#more of a colour study thing tbh

[ayceofcard]

do you think there was a specific moment where one couldn't recognize the beloved they were arguing with

(scene redraw) i've been getting my friend into star wars & we were on rots the other day. naturally, i made it my mission to inflict them with as much emotional damage as possible :)

[captainuranium543]

Ft headcanons nobody wanted part 2

-natsu will occasionally get genuinely jealous over his friends owning appliances for heating. Why should they need those things when they have him, if they just call him over her do a way better job then any of those stupid gadgets. He finds out gray owns a hair dryer and immediately becomes a jealous ex girlfriend. He confronts Lucy in her apartment one night acting so serious he she doesn't even get mad that he broke in, then just goes "care to explain this?" And puts a lighter on the table.

- Wendy is very very quiet. Creepily so. Not elaborating but I think you can imagine the kinds of situations this leads to.

- Mira's eyes glow in the dark and it creeps everyone the fuck out

- erza has the worst hoarding problem. Her dorm room is entirely piled floor to ceiling with boxes of meticulously organized random items she refuses to throw out for some reason

young Mira: "alright this is ridiculous why do you even have this"

Young erza: "say what you want but when you need 746 packets of Mcnolias sweet and sour sauce and find your supply baron I'll be laughing"

- levy is one of the few members of the guild who actively sought it out to join. Before fairy tail she was an orphan and a student studying magic. She left to join fairy tail to learn more about magic in general from real world experience.

- laki will sometimes build creepily realistic wooden statues of her guild mates and leave them around in inconspicuous places so when you find them they scare the shit out of you. Sometimes she hides them too well and it takes years to discover them.

- Lucy has actually written several unpublished novels and the only other person who's ever seen them is levy. Lucy thinks their crap but levy carefully annotates every single one.

- laxus used to occasionally be forced to go on jobs with erza and Mira when they were young both to help and to make sure they didn't kill each other and he hated it.

- I think I might have said this before but I firmly believe levy, Lucy, freed and jellal later on all form a book club because they love reading, the problem is they all have vastly different tastes in book so they can never decide what to read each week and usually just end up playing Scrabble and talking shit about their various teammates

"please guys trust me this one's good"

"I am NOT reading Colleen Hoover Lucy and that's final"

- this one's based on city hero but I personally believe erza and Erik find a shocking common ground over motorcycles. Erza likes vehicles in general and Erik took up bike racing as a hobby, since discovering this is the longest they've been able to be in the same room together without someone throwing a punch.

- Wendy visits lamia scale regularly still to hang out with chelia. she usually brings romeo and they all go out to do whatever dumb kid stuff they want. (Tbh I just like her having friends her own age)

-lucy sometimes randomly lets her rich girl's heritage show in random conversation and it's always jarring. You'll be having a normal chill convo with her and then she'll look you dead in the eyes and ask you what colour your personal carriage was growing up.

- Natsu is genuinely a really good cook he just has a terrible taste so nobody wants to eat his food. For reference he only ever cooks his food because he enjoys doing it to him it tastes fine either way.

- if you had asked the fairy tail guild who the scariest guild member was in early season 1 the answers would have been erza, guildarts, laxus etc all the usual suspects. Once season 2 starts however the answer is unanimous. It's juvia. Juvia is fucking terrifying when she gets mad. You don't realize how scary water can be until it's filling your lungs and as your vision blurs until all you can see is her merciless stare.

- Mira and freed can drink blood for demon reasons. gray can too after getting devil slayer but he thinks its gross. Surprisingly so can gajeel because of the high iron content.

- gray the type of guy who's bed has only the smallest thinnest blanket on his bed and usually it's on the ground cuz he gets too hot

- meanwhile erza is the type of girl to have so many pillows, blankets and plushies on her bed you wonder how she fucking sleeps in it. Mf has a NEST.

- Lucy isn't even surprised anymore when she finds people in her house, she doesn't know how they keep getting in and honestly she doesn't care anymore she's to tired to deal with it.

- freed plays a lot of really fucking weird instruments. Idk it just seems like something he would do.

- bixlow can speak most languages and it's always really surprising when he randomly says smth like "oh yea I can speak ancient nirvid no prob" like that's totally normal

- if laxus and freed ever did get together (in my heart it's cannon) evergreen and bixlow would be their biggest haters. Yea they love them and they're happy for them but also EW. GROSS. GET A ROOM.

[agirlwithglam]

📚 It girl's guide to school 📚

hiii girls! this is part of the big Guide to being the It Girl. this section will be all about school, studying and academics. i'll teach you how to tackle school, get the highest grades effortlessly, and look chic and gorgeous doing it! the rest of the ultimate it girl series is linked! 🎀

guide to getting good grades:

LISTEN IN CLASS. one of the best tips ever. if you would actually listen to what your teachers teaching in class, you’d get to spend a lot less time studying.

ask if you need help! these teachers are qualified for the job, they’re meant to be good at it. so if you don’t understand something, don’t be afraid to ask. and if you’re really too much of a chicken, ask once the class is over or email the teacher. but honestly? half the kids probably aren’t even listening tbh so u do ur thing!

participate in class. actually participating in class will help you so much in recalling the information. it’s a great way to actively revise. you don’t have to be a teachers pet or anything, but if you know the answer, put yourself out there. anyone who judges you simply judges themselves and their inability to speak up.

change up your environment so that you're still interested and excited to learn! you could go to a coffee shop, set up a mini picnic in the woods, go to a library, etc.

use alter egos!! i will never stop recommending this because it really is an amazing tip. either you can create your own alter ego who loves to study and gets high grades, or you could pretend you're rory gilmore or hermione granger!

revision/ study techniques:

feynman technique: teach it to someone else/ to plushies. try not to look at your notes too much, pretend ur a teacher.

use practice questions/ practice exams! trust me this can be so helpful! try and find past exams and go over them in exam conditions so you can see what u missed later. or, you can get all the info and ask an AI like chatgpt to write questions based on it and go through them!

BLURTING! love this method! basically, you write all the information you know about the topic on one page (optional: set a time limit) and then go over it with a different colour pen and add in what you missed. do this a couple times until you haven't missed anything! - you can do this by creating a mind-map, or literally just scribbling down everything you know.

SQ3R method: survey/ skim over the text, question- make questions on it, read- begin reading to find the answers to the questions, recite- summarise the words in a section in your own words, review- quiz yourself on what you just learnt

organise/ prioritise what you need to study using the traffic light method. first, identify the topics, then highlight them according to these 3 colors: red- struggling a lot/ no idea , yellow- okay ish, need to work on it a bit tho , green- good understanding & confident on the topic.

make associations. this is especially helpful for when you need to memorise things. the thing you need to memorise- link it to stuff that you already know.

⭐️ use mnemonics, songs, raps to remember! a couple years back, my science teacher made us create a rap on osmosis (a biology term). and not even kidding, i still remember the simple definition of what it does because of that rap! so create songs or rap and maybe even make a whole music video on it! trust me, not only is it so fun but it really does help keep the information in your mind!

more resources:

huge big list of studying and school

another big study masterpost

100 reasons to study

how to be a whole new student this year

ACE your exams -by me!

study icons:

as i mentioned earlier, channelling the energy of a character who already studies and gets good grades is an amazing way of getting yourself motivated! here are some of my favs & tips to study like them! (p.s i've also added links to the names for a more in depth guide on each person!)

♡ rory gilmore

she loves studying- develop that mindset! have a passion for learning more.

"i can go from 0 to studying in less than 60 seconds"

switch between different subjects when you get bored

ask someone to test you with flashcards

♡ elle woods:

study while you exercise- take care of ur body too!

"what, like its hard?"- i love her sm for this!! if anyone else can do something, of course you can do it too!

be ambitious + have strong source of motivation

get into study groups

♡ paris geller

have the discipline and ambition to do the things that will get you to where you want.

"i want to win, and i'm going to win." - love this, she's sure of herself and confident in her abilities.

prioritise & use to do lists

start early to be the top of your class!

♡ blair waldorf

honestly its so fun to embody her energy of high value, cares about her education, so confident and takes no sh*t from others!

"anything you can do, i can do better"

always have a plan

have flash cards, take notes

♡ hermione granger

always participate in class!

read more about the material. + learn more!

teach others & help them study

finish the hw/ work quickly and do the extra credit!

stylish in school 101:

SURVIVING SCHOOL AIR: here are some tips to staying/ looking pretty and refreshed all day at school bc u and i both know the horrors of school air 🙀 :)

DRINK WATER. stay hydrated - very important. always drink water. this keeps your lips hydrated, face hydrated, and just makes you look a lil less dead.

lip gloss/ lip balm to reapply throughout the day, esp for my girlies with chapped lips! i keep lip balm in my pocket so its always there when needed, but you can also keep it in your locker/ bag/ pencil case.

perfume. you can keep it in your locker/ bag/ pencil case to spray whenever needed and smell sweet and amazing the entire day <3

stop touching your face!! your hands have so much crusty dust and bacteria that can give pimples on your face.

keep hair away from your face. leave it out if you want, but try to make sure it doesn't touch your face too much- it also has tons of crusty musty dusty germs

keep a hairbrush in your locker. listen, i know how messy hair can get during school so keeping it in school is SO helpful to maintain the tidyness and cleanliness

waterproof makeup - if you wear makeup.

sunscreen!! keep. applying. SUNSCREENN!! i'm not going to elaborate further on this point.

ACCESSORISING YOUR UNIFORM!!

this is for the girlies who have a school uniform! i understand it can be so annoying so to have more fun and feel more confident, ACCESSORIZEE everything as much as you're allowed! here are some ideas!

♡ necklesses

♡ bracelets

♡ bows in your hair

♡ bows in your bag

♡ bows everywhere basically 🎀

♡ decorate your ipad/ pencilcase with stickers

♡ headbands

♡ rings

♡ cute earrings

♡ cute watch

♡ nails

♡ a cute clip!

the ultimate it girl series

xoxo, vanilla!

[bazookaboi]

AUTISM CREATURE RANT [PART II]

(I may continue this hunting strategy part because I wrote this a while ago and I may add or redo a few more things later).

HUNTING STRATEGY:

Featured in the image above: An Autismus niveus niveus pouncing upon its prey.

TBH-A1 is an expert at detecting even the slightest sign of movement around it, even in stormy weather. Its big eyes, facial disk, sense of smell, and numerous whiskers allow for excellent capture of stimuli. Here’s how:

Eyes: These big, dark, front-facing sensory organs receive as much available light in the area as they can, allowing for excellent night vision. This is partly because TBH-A1’s eyes posses a large amount of photoreceptive cells, equivalent to rod cells back on our planet, and also due to their large size in general, which allows for more light to be detected. They also posses a thin, reflective membrane in their eyes akin to a tapetum lucidum.

Facial Disk: although not visible due to its coat, the TBH-A1’s ears are positioned near its eyes. The facial disk helps gather sound like a mini-satellite dish of sorts, helping channel sound waves towards the ears. It’s much like when you cup your hands against your ears to hear better.

Sense of smell: The TBH-A1’s olfactory receptors can pick up on the most minute details about their prey and environment. This is useful for detecting sent trails left by other fauna in its habitat. Since potential prey is much less prevalent in this icy region, this is very useful for tracking them over long distances; wasting less time and energy searching for them. Avoiding larger predators is also easier.

Whiskers: These long, specialised feather/hairs also help gather information about its environment. They are equipped with multiple nerve endings and are very sensitive to stimuli like touch, temperature and vibrations in the air. With these, detection of potential threats or potential prey is more effective due to the small vibrations that they cause when moving.

A side effect that this excellent detection of stimuli poses is that the TBH-A1 may get overwhelmed if there is too much of it. This will evidently stress it out. This is dangerous for the TBH-A1 because it is vulnerable in this state, and can get injured or killed more easily. In fact, some prey in its area have developed the ability to make noises that are specifically designed to deter an attacking TBH-A1. This is one of the reasons why it has developed to quietly stalk and kill its prey quickly…

Although it is constantly travelling to find a fresh meal, The TBH-A1 is an ambush predator. When it spots potential prey, it will first start to carefully assess the scene; studying the prey item with undivided attention. TBH-A1 determines its size, its smell, its age, estimating how much energy would be needed to take it down to see if it’s worth wasting… etc. Then, if the TBH-A1 decides that the prey item is worth its time, it will move in for the kill. It moves closer very slowly, crouched low to the ground, pausing if the prey’s vision drifts near where it resides. It’s lightly-coloured pelt camouflages perfectly with the snow around it, and it’s wide, fluffy, snowshoe-like feet muffle its already soft steps. TBH-A1 will usually choose a path contrary to the wind direction to avoid the detection of its sent. Every moment it makes is carefully calculated. Once close enough, it will pounce in a burst of speed, not letting the startled prey item know what hit them before it’s too late. Its serrated retractable claws extend, hooking onto the prey with ease, and before the unlucky victim can utter a sound, the TBH-A1 delivers a killing blow by sinking it’s sharp, cusped maxillary and mandibular frontal plates (it’s equivalent of incisors and canines) into the prey’s neck, and ripping its throat out with the help of strong neck muscles.

It will then proceed to eat its prey.

[not-poignant]

Potentially an odd question, but is there a specific site or method you use for research for your writings? Researching medical/legal/similar procedures is the bane of my existence because I can never seem to find an explanation I understand well enough to then write about.

I recently caught up to Stain, and while reading it struck me how you put a lot of detail into a wide variety of topics (the medical part of Alex’s injury at the start, therapy, Alex’s eye examination, Sebastian talking about his boss trying to underpay him, among other topics) (HUGE kudos about that by the way, it adds another layer of realism) and it feels like there’s no way one person can have firsthand experience/knowledge in ALL these things unless you’ve lived an extremely varied life.

I was just hoping you might have some pointers about how to go about researching basically anything because I feel like I’ve GOT to be missing something.

No worries if you can’t/don’t want to/don’t have an answer, I just thought shooting an ask your way is worth a shot haha.

Hi anon,

Researching is its own skillset, like writing or editing, there's no one specific site to go to, to make it easier, it's more like...taking the time to learn the constellation of ever-changing sites, books, and more in order to best learn how to learn. Because that's really what it is about: Learning how to learn.

On learning how to learn (I should say, I'm not very good at teaching, so some of this stuff might not be helpful to you, please ignore it if it isn't!):

But I do have some things that I do which might help. And some that might not.

The first thing that won't really help is I have led a varied life in a way that is convenient for the content I write, lol. The medical part of Alex's injury - I've been badly injured. The eye examination - I have astigmatism and was diagnosed late and blamed for my own eyesight issues which I didn't realise were eyesight issues. I've seen over 19 therapists in over 25 years. I've talked to bosses about pay and I've had lots of friends that have too.

Tbh the things I've had to research the most in Stardew Valley have been:

The intersection of astigmatism/myopia/dyslexia treatment and the best order in which these things should happen.

Stardew Valley - literally the calendar, the schedule, liked gifts, disliked gifts, favourite meals etc. Some I know off by heart, others I don't really remember at all.

The best way to clean a house (though my mother was a professional cleaner for most of my childhood, I just wanted to revise and see if anything had changed since then)

Cleaning standards for home laboratories

The colours that sweetpea flowers come in etc.

It's always random stuff. And to be honest, a lot of this doesn't happen in much detail in the story. The colour of sweetpea flowers was for the bouquet, and I think it was one line. The best way to clean a house has accounted for very little actual writing.

Now for actual helpful stuff:

Wikipedia is your friend. My browser search bar goes straight to Wikipedia, not google. It's amazing how much Wikipedia will explain a ton of different things these days. It's true some concepts might be hard to understand, you might need to spend more time Wiki-ing / googling / using a dictionary to start understanding those concepts.

When it comes to writing trauma, for example, I've read upwards of 20+ academic books (i.e. the kind psychologists study at university or after university in postgrad) about trauma. I wouldn't expect other people to go that deep, but other folks aren't writing trauma like I am in every single story, and it's a special interest of mine. But it kind oh illustrates that I'm not going to a single site about something.

But you could get a deeper understanding by just looking at the PTSD and C-PTSD and trauma articles on Wikipedia, and slowly reading them.

The second is that medical sites can also be your friend.

The third is that Reddit is amazing for lived experiences, with a grain of salt that some people are lying for clout. But 'what treatments helped best with your dyslexia reddit' as a search phrase is going to be way more helpful than whatever AI bullshit the google search line will give you otherwise. Deep diving into reddit threads can be super helpful for stuff that I used to find out previously on personal blogs (it's amazing how much 'what's life on an oil rig like blog' used to turn up a ton of lived experiences from firsthand encounters for example). I don't use my Reddit account for anything other than research, lmao. It's a hidden gem for lived experience and human interpretation of complex issues. It can be especially helpful for legal / economic matters, but honestly, I mostly just handwave legal stuff with caveats/disclaimers. You can do an undergraduate degree in law, and a lawyer is still going to painstakingly point out all the ways you're wrong about something. It's just better to tell the lawyers in advance that you know you can't compete with their knowledge base lmao.

(Though it can be worth looking up regional differences, because if I see another Australian writing Australian legal procedures into US law (or vice versa) I will scream - like no, Aussies, we do not have BOLOs here, we have KL04, LOTBKF and BOLF depending on your state).

A good way to start learning how to learn is to actually start outside of your stories and start with things you already love. Plug your favourite movie into Wikipedia and learn about how it was made, or what the production was like. And when you find something mildly interesting, say, about film lighting, open up those Wiki articles or plug 'film lighting process for (insert movie here)' on google, and have a look at some of the results. Learn how to learn, how to go deeper, what seems to be helpful, and what isn't. Consider making a list of articles you really enjoy - I love a website that aggregates all the different odours and flavours in the world and their chemical compounds which has been incredibly helpful for Palmarosa. The website is a bit hard to navigate, but if you plug something like 'spearmint' into the search, it'll help.

If you don't already have it, put Wikipedia on your phone. It's free / ad-free. I have my own personal server on Discord that I use to house a lot of resources (for everything, from my business, to health records, to writing resources). If you use Discord already, I highly recommend the 'private server' as a great way to aggregate everything together.

If the article formatting of online articles doesn't feel good, you can do text-to-speech, or use the little 'reader' symbol to make it more reader-friendly.

Books are also not to be underestimated for how helpful they can be (I find too many people are website focused these days, but actually, not everything can be found on websites, a lot of the best niche knowledge is still in books when it's not in lived experience tellings). Find out about your local and online libraries. A lot of people (especially younger folks) don't realise just how much information they can get access to, for free. Librarians themselves are gifts from god, who will literally help you find the books you need for whatever subject you want to learn more about, and if they don't know, they will often personally take it upon themselves to look further for you. 'I want to learn more about German composers' is - for many librarians - a very exciting question that they will want to help you with.

Outside of that, niche websites (like the odours one I mentioned), sometimes just finding sites where asking research questions gets answered. For example the free blogging site (with no ads), Dreamwidth, has a community called little_details where you can ask your niche question and people will answer and say what their expertise is in that subject. It's incredible and active enough to be super helpful. In some cases it's completely changed the course of a story.

Over time you'll also learn what's less helpful. Some articles are clearly ChatGPT written or written for ads and not accurate - so if you can get the same information corroborated at multiple sources, that will help.

And don't forget the value of just listening to people online and irl regarding their experiences. As a writer, I feel like an 'experience collector.' I like asking friends, strangers, family, etc. all kinds of questions because I think a part of my brain is always aware that something they're sharing could be a vitally grounding element in a story and it's also just interesting and people like sharing about their lives. Whether I'm asking my roommate about the process of getting a government evaluation approved, my architect friend about drug use in Australian architecture, or a friend from Bali what sort of foods he grew up with and what his comfort meal was when he felt sick, etc. Writers collect experiences, not just their own, but those of others. The greatest tools a writer can have in their toolbelt are knowing how to listen, learning how to learn (and how to love learning), and knowing what the right questions are.

None of those things can be gained with one or two websites. But they can be gained with time and curiosity, and well, that helps with your whole entire life, and not just writing. :D

[lichtecht]

tag game

i was tagged by @transratsactivist, thank you for that :)

Last Song: ich glaub es war "HERZ ZURÜCK" von Ikkimel?

Favorite Color: i like a lot of colours, it depends on context and it changes. in general, i gravitate towards purple, pink and blue

Last Book: i actually started a list to keep track of all the books i started cause there are 12 at this point 😭 most actively i am listening to the audiobooks for "this is how you lose the time war", "a study in scarlet" and "the ballad of songbirds and snakes". i also started a reread of "herr der diebe".

Last Movie: challengers

Last TV Show: im not really watching anything currently

Favorite Flavor: of what? theres a lot of different foods

Tea or Coffee: i dont like either tbh

Currently Working On: getting more in contact with the world? as for creative projects, im kind of constantly working on my sketchbook, and i wanna make a zine for an album i like

Last Thing I Googled: uhhh that would give away my location im afraid! the last thing before that was "alimony definition"

Relationship Status: i dont wanna answer that one

Looking Forward To: my birthday tomorrow :]

Current Obsession(s): cant hink of anything im obsessed with really….. im enjoying the spring weather. theres flowers everywhere

tagging @poisonivyonthewalls @gloomth-and-wanderings @michameinmicha @is-this-taken-too-questionmark @chrisoels @cnka @profoundlyconfusedbeing @watercolor-rainclouds (only if you want to, of course)

[yllene]

I have a question. Hope it’s not rude!!

Do you have any recommendations for someone with dyscalculia and knitting? as dumb as it sounds, I really want to get into it. I have tried a few times but I mess up the simplest of rows and usually it ties back to the fact (or so I think!!) that I struggle with counting :( Feel like a bit of a dumdum tbh.

Are there any methods a baby knitter may not be aware of that could help?

Thank you for your question! I am not super confident on this subject, but I will try my best to write down a few tips. I did study a bit of special education a long time ago so I should know a bit about this tho. I asked my former spec ed classmate for help as well.

What first comes to mind is picking a pattern that doesn’t require much counting, or a pattern where the fit doesn’t matter. For example, with a long, narrow scarf it doesn’t matter much if it ends up being 30 or 33 centimeters wide, so that could be a good place to start if you are new to knitting.

But I am sure you want to create more exciting things than just long scarves.

Casting on the right number of stitches can be tricky for anyone. When casting on a specific number of stitches it helps to use markers. Cast on 10 stitches, place a marker, cast on 10 stitches more and so on. The markers can be removed later.

There are a few tools that could be useful to try. Row counters and gauge rulers may be useful. Use lifelines. And use markers.

Identify which parts of the pattern that require counting, and which parts can be measured for example by trying the piece on. If you are making mittens, then you may need to count the number of stitches to cast on, but the rest of the mitten can be knitted based on how it sits on the hand. Mittens and socks require a quite small number of stitches, and if you are using dpns the stitches are naturally distibuted on four needles which could make counting easier.

Learning to ”read the knitting” may also help. I am not sure if this is also something that is more difficult with dyscalculia. Reading the knitting can mean for example seeing wether the next stitch on your left needle is a purl stitch or a knit stitch. Another example would be if you are doing decreases, being able to see if the row before was a decrease row or a plain row by how the stitches look. And reading the knitting is not something you need to do with your eyes. It might even be easier to read the knitting using your fingers, feeling the stitches.

Using two or more colours could actually make counting easier, because the different coloured stitches are easier to see. The same goes for texture stitches I think, since they make the stitches look and feel different from each other.

If anybody has experience with knitting and dyscalculia, or useful tips please do share!

I wish you find a way to knit that works for you Anon❤️

[sandsorghum]

wc: 1.1k (more drabble than fic tbh)

tags: Virgin Higuruma | Friends to Lovers (?)

a/n: Really just an excuse for me to spew unhinged thoughts about FirstTimeHiguruma...Suggestive but nothing really explicit. Kinda told in his POV. Dunno if I'll ever develop this into a full story but enjoy...whatever this is??

Maybe...maybe he's in his mid20s, 2nd year of law school. Is a little insecure and defensive because he's got a bit of that internalised misogyny. Just a smidge. What's the big deal anyway, why are people so obsessed with sex - those conversations aren't worth his time. Don't his peers have better things to brag about or bond over?

Keeps his head down and mostly to himself. Ignores the couples snogging under the shade of sycamore trees as he cuts across the quad, averts his eyes from insufficiently surreptitious fingers skimming up thighs in coffee shops - Even the damn library isn't a place of refuge; with people sneaking off to the dimly lit, dusty sections where the obscure maritime law tomes are shelved but no apparently he's the one committing an invasion of privacy when he just wanted to look up the applications filed at the Tribunal for the Hoshinmaru case (2007, Japan V. Russian Federation) and not get an eyeful of folks sticking hands down pants.

So one day the two of you are hanging out in his room and somehow the topic comes up and he goes on an amusingly/impressively feminist rant about virginity just being a sexist myth and concept contrived to make (women's) chastity a commodified fetish as if they were prized chattel and why would he want to acknowledge any part of that antiquated invention and he has better things to do and why are you looking at him like that when you both have a Commercial Law exam to mug for, isn't that why you showed up in the first place?

And umm do you want his jacket, seems like you'd be chilly in that loose hanging top - it's slipped a little off your shoulder by the way - and why are you stalking- walking towards him like that and hangonhangonhangonhey-

Now see what you've done! You made him trip backwards on his bed and you're still leaning in way too close and since when did you start wearing lip gloss - wait you aren't? And that's just the natural shade of your mouth? oh ok cool cool cool fine goodtoknow - huh? why's it good for him to know? No- no reason- no he hasn't been wondering all evening - and wait why are you dropping to your knees now, come on, stop, you're taking this joke way too far like always - can't you tell it's humiliating for the both of you - huh? Did you just say you've always found him cute? The adjective ascribed to marsupials? You're associating it with him??

You like seeing his cheeks this colour? It reminds you of his frostbitten face when the two of you were the last to leave the library last winter semester, trekking across the field with just his nose peeking out from the higgly-piggedly stacked layers of his scarf, still trying to crack jokes to make you laugh and it had worked because you remember the sting of your chapped lips long after he walked you back to your room?

And well that's um...quite a vivid portrait of him, he doesn't really have that type of memory - No, he didn't mean that - of course he remembers the first evening you and him met and quickly became study buddies, pals, friends - definitely friends - and uuuhhhh are you sure this is something friends do?

Because now you have both hands resting on his parted thighs, your head nestled on his knee, how can you look so comfortable like this, with your cheek nuzzling lightly into his lap, moving a little further and further up to the throbbing, pounding pitch in his pants with every passing minute that he doesn't push you away or tell you to stop, he's never ached like this before, not even in his hormone-swamped dreams of the cloying feverish adolescence he thought he'd left behind years ago, and he thought he'd given into those futile impulses often enough not to be controlled by them, but no, the stifling denim swelling rises faster and faster the more desperately he tries to fight it, till the tented fabric is just about sweeping your cheek and hell, you shouldn't look so pleased with yourself, having this effect on him just by looking up at him through dark lashes and a darker gaze, but something's midnight-bright in them, like starlight in the pitch of winter

Like that night you'd both clambered up to the roof, abandoning the cacophony of the house party below, precariously perched with a couple beers and a quarter of the vodka you'd snagged on impulse, and you'd clung so tight to him, scuffling on the shingles, burying your squeaks and breathy giggles into his nape, shushing his chastisements midway as you passed the swig of the bottle directly from your mouth to his, and he remembers this, a careless question he's pondered more often than he'd like to admit, how he'd been unable to distinguish if the lingering scorch was from the distilled juniper or your lips, puffing little white clouds in this cloudless, snow-crisped evening, with you pressed into his body heat, teetering on the ledge and looking up at the spray of diamonds embroidered into the velvet of night, pointing out patterns in the celestial tapestry, both of you feigning expertise in astronomy before bursting into laughter at the blatant fibs when one of you, he can't recall which of you, gestures at a cluster of seven stars and declares it "the Big Slipper" and who knows what other snarky quips and idle half-truths you exchanged that night, he only recollects your confession that you were actually pretty terrified of heights, the admission crystal clear in his memory because he remembers the evidence, remembers the way your pulse was embedded in his bones, the way his blood was thrumming with the wild thudding of your heartbeat until he wrapped his arms securely around you, your ribs rising and falling slowly into sync with his and some other memory splinters its way to the surface now, crackling through his subconscious, how the air froze in his lungs for no reason, no reason at all, when his eyes settled on you looking up, again with your lips looking a little chapped, enraptured by the stars above, murmuring how you wished this night with him could last forever...

And of course it didn't, winter thawed into spring, which crept into summer, which slouched into autumn, after hundreds of highlighted paragraphs on mens rea and thousands of annotations on procedural processes, after so many shots of espresso long past closing time at the on-campus coffee shop where he was a part-time barista, fuel you'd always insisted on paying for, although he'd raided innumerable cans of redbull from your dorm free of charge, and you said you didn't really like their taste anyway so then why did you always happen to have a full six-pack stocked in your fridge?

Just another mystery he's never given much mind, with all the case studies the both of yall have had to cram in your heads instead, and after losing count of the stacks of flashcards blurring in your hand and the smirks you'd flashed him every time you scored a few points higher than him on a pop quiz, and now you're here, in his room, on your knees, having pulled the Milky Way galaxy into your gaze, dragging a comet up through his belly, pillars of fire erupting in his lungs as he witnesses the moonrise of your mouth, soft lips curving crescent sharp around a question, a question just for him, both the sincere desire - the hunger - in your eyes and lilt in your tone makes his pulse leap to his throat, makes his blood plummet south as you ask, just this once, if he trusts you to make him feel good too?

And he's trembling, as is the answer on his tongue, only the familiarity of your audacity grounding him somehow, because you're asking it with that smile, the smile which has been wrapped and squeezing around his head, for longer than you could possibly know...

© sandsorghum. 2025

[tbhimnoteasyonmyself]

Who is White?

If it is not I, your friendly neighbourhood non-binary deranged literature major, once again to tell you about stuff that the voices™︎ have prompted me.

This time, let's talk about the elephant in the room, the odd one out: Mr. White, a.k.a the fandom's babyboy.

(me as Fluke in this GIF, walking in ready to dissect this bitch)

So, what do we factually know about this man?

From what we're directly told in the show:

He's Tee's boyfriend, at least, since 12th grade, meaning they have been together for about 3 years, maybe 4 (depending on when exactly we are in terms of time in the present and when exactly during 12th grade they started dating).

He's younger than the rest of them, according to Por and Top in episode 1.

He studied at a different school from the main gang AND from Phee (yes, despite the embroidery having a similar colour, the writings where the institution's name should be are nothing alike, thus, not from the same place)

He cares a lot about his appearance (he does skincare when Por is literally dying downstairs and he sees a rash on his body while under the effect of New's absynthe - idk if it's absynthe or not but my friends and I have been calling it that since we saw them drink the green drinks so it's absynthe for me and there's that).

He's generally a very respectful person (he always speaks formally and nicely to everyone, even when people are hostile to him, like Tee or Fluke).

His fear doesn't seem to paralyze him in high-pressure situations (he strikes people with a tripod twice to save himself and others when he thinks they're in danger).

Another source could be the Yearbook, which, now, we have to be a bit more skeptical about because, as seen in New's case, it's not 100% accurate. One can argue that it is accurate because the yearbook would have Tan's info, since that's who he's living as and no one knows any better than that, including the institutions and, sure, yeah, fair. But while we don't know that White is hiding anything from us as well, we can't be sure of it. So, take the following with a grain of salt:

(translated with Google Translate)

His legal name is Watcharin Siriphan

He was born on the 25th of February 2005 (which confirms what Por and Top say)

His blood type is A (which according to the Blood Type Personality Theory means he is shy, stubborn, a perfectionist, polite and hard-working, apparently. tbh this thing is super shifty, no source seems to agree on the meaning of each type and, of course, it's a pseudoscience and all, so... yeah. take it as you will)

He's studying Software Engineering

He likes cakes

He dislikes cockroaches

He plays games and programs in his free time

So... We don't know much. He's the most generic person ever. Like... I too, and half the world's population, like cake, dislike cockroaches and like to play games. It's not exactly very special. Which is exactly why he is so intriguing. After all, we had 5 whole episodes so far, which were just the backstory of the people we see together in the mansion in the present. We've seen their personalities, their qualities and flaws, what they did and what they didn't do. We've been given a reason as to why they're here. Not just in the more direct sense of "they agreed to come here for Jin's goodbye party" but of why exactly they needed to be put all together in these conditions for this story. All except White. White is just... Barely an afterthought. We're shown when he comes into this story for the group (when he becomes Tee's boyfriend), but we're not given a reason so far as to why the narrative wants him there.

Because, sure, IRL people sometimes end up in random places and things can be pretty meaningless but this is a work of fiction. One that, evidently, has been greatly focused on details (Non's framed apple picture and Phee eating an apple alone, for example, or the correlation between the group and the colour blue). So why would it just throw us a character that is, seemingly, irrelevant to the story?

And to this, there are 2 possibilities my friends: either White is a narrative tool to get to the audience or White is not who we think he is. So let's explore it, shall we?

White = Narrative Tool

Let's start by assuming, possibly the most likely outcome, that White is exactly just a guy who ended up there due to his connection to Tee. Why would this narrative need that character?

Glad you asked. Because he's the only person who's 100% innocent. If he's just some guy who, as we've seen, keeps being respectful and nice and trying to always do the right thing, then he's got nothing to do with the others who, in different degrees are all guilty of something. He's the odd one out.

Because, yes, this is not a show of villains (at least, not in which concerns the main characters). They're all morally grey. But they have some drop of black that makes them grey.

Por is arrogant and a liar and selfish.

Tee is aggressive and manipulative and a control freak.

Top is an overall asshole and a coward.

These 3 actively bully Non. Por steals his work. Tee and Top blame him for shit he didn't do which puts him in the situation where he owns Por and they spy on him. Tee manipulates him into mafia money laundry and threatens him.

Fluke is selfish and refuses to take action even when he knows it's the right thing to do.

Jin doesn't have the capability to realize that the peaceful passive way with which he normally carries himself with won't solve the issue. Plus he's overly emotional. And a bit selfish too.

They didn't help Non when it was their moral obligation to do so. And Jin records him being abused by their teacher and possibly posts it online (though that's still up for debate).

Phee is too stubborn and also overly emotional and even overly empathic.

New is obsessive and vengeful.

Phee never really helps Non because all the ways he offers Non help are the wrong ones. He almost tries to control him. And he fails. And then he tells him awful things and breaks up with him in a terribly vulnerable moment for Non. And even when he regrets it and tries to bring justice to him, he fucks Jin because he wanted to and tries to cover it up as if it was part of the plan. Sure, they were broken up, technically, but Phee himself seems to have had "take-backies" over that breaking up. So, in his mind, at least, it's fair to say he cheats on him, which is very hypocritical after how he reacts to Non being abused. And New... He tries to help sincerely because he feels guilty but he only makes things worse. Nothing is solved and their father curses them both before committing public suicide at their mom's funeral.

Non (which may be even more relevant if he's still alive) is overly independent and uncommunicative.

He doesn't tell Jin he has a boyfriend when it's clear Jin's trying to make a move on him, event though Non's not interested. He hides very important things from Phee. He commits fraud (understandably, but yeah). And yeah, he's justified in his rage and attack but... Does he ever think of how his actions affect other such as Jin, for example, who, in his eyes, is innocent? Not really.

So, amidst a sea of grey characters, White is, funnily enough: white. He's just good. He's done nothing wrong. And the narrative needs him because, when the others die, we'll feel (to different degrees, sure, but still, we will) that there's a reason. Even if we like the characters, those deaths will make sense. But what happens when an innocent man dies? What happens when you kill the man who wasn't even supposed to be there (he joined the trip at the last minute)?

"Oh but White won't die!", I hear you say. "The innocent people never die in slashers!! Only the people who did the killer wrong do!" And that's exactly where I have to disagree.

As @syrena-del-mar says in this post: "DFF is more than just a 90s slasher film imitation". It "sits at a novel intersection of genre: horror slasher on the one hand and BL on the other hand" as @brifrischu puts it here and, for that, it bends expectations and rules and subverts what are natural tropes and events of the slasher archetype. White dying is the sort of thing this narrative, and our inventive genius Sammon, would do. Because... Do you really think they're giving us grey characters instead of black ones because we're supposed not to question this revenge? Because we're supposed to be happy about this? No. Of course not. That would be dumb. If we're meant to 100% side with the killer, then why give us likeable characters as the targets? Because, and this is as much speculation as it is reading the room, we're not.

This story, I don't know how it will end, but regardless I'm pretty confident it's supposed to tell us something important about cycles of violence: that they're neverending until someone chooses peace instead. That aggression and bloodshed and revenge... They won't bring time back, they won't undo the mistakes we make, they won't restore that which is lost, they won't make the grief go away... That they won't make us feel better. More even: that they will only hurt more people, create more injustice and prompt more revenge. And, thus, perpetuate the cycle.

So what's White's role? Being the final drop into our collective cup of realization (and perhaps the characters' as well) that this revenge mission is pointless and won't solve anything. White's role is to die.

"Oh, but uncle Dang was also innocent! Is his death not enough??", I hear you ask. And well... Maybe, maybe not. I think, honestly, his death is too impersonal for us to feel too deeply about it. Like, sure, yes, it is the death of an innocent, but it's a distant innocent. It doesn't make our blood boil because we don't know shit about that man. But, for all we don't know of White's past, we've seen him cry, we've seen him scared, we've seen him fight for his life, we've seen him be a good boyfriend and a good friend. He might just be some dude but we like him. He's the fandom's babyboy, as I said. It is more impactful and it tells the story better.

But this is just a hypothesis. And it might not convince you. And that's fair. So, because I'm a persistent obnoxious fucker with a little too much free time, I'm bringing you a second theory. For this one, though... You might need a little tinfoil hat... Be prepared.

White ≠ Who He Says He Is

So, if you think just having a character be hollow and pure good in a show of very fleshed-out and grey characters is weird, even if he might be narratively relevant, then we can only assume there's something important to White's character we don't know about yet. (I'm adding this in retrospective because I forgot but this idea came to me partially from @yellingaboutkp and their great analysis of horns in the show that you can find here)

But what could that be? We've seemingly seen all the flashbacks we needed from everyone, White doesn't seem very relevant to anyone's storyline but Tee's but... We'd assume if there was something directly connected to Tee's actions and White that we needed to see, we would've. Admittedly, the next episode seems to be on its way to tell us what Tee knows about what happened to Non and Keng while they were captured by the mafia and he could be there but I think, honestly, that it goes deeper than that. And here's why: because there's a person who's even more of an odd one out then White: whoever Perth's character is.

Now, he would've been completely unsuspicious if it wasn't for one thing: Perth's presence in the promotion of this series. He's just... Always there, somehow? Like, his character has only really appeared last episode massaging Tee's uncle but he's constantly talking about this series. Plus, his name is very well credited. AND, the absolute cherry on top, his character appears in THIS poster:

Now, yeah, I understand Marketing and Publicity (it's part of my Master's, you don't have to explain it to me). So, I know this could very well just be a strategy to sell the series. After all, Perth did get a lot of attention after The Hidden Character, I know, I know. It's also a way to put his name out there for other future roles, kinda like a soft launch. Plus, this is the show that killed Us's character first when he was one of the most popular actors in the cast. HOWEVER, I'd argue that, considering the previously mentioned attention to detail, they would not have given one of their rising stars a role in this series if it wasn't important. Like... No other background character without lines (so far) was given an important actor to play it. So pardon me, but I don't buy it. Perth's character's gotta matter somehow. And, back to what I was saying, I think the next episode will be exactly where.

See, I made a poll here on the hellsite asking what y'all think happened to Non. It's this one. And it shows that, overwhelmingly, we all think Non is alive BECAUSE he was helped by the man himself:

Now, if we're assuming Perth's character's the one that's gonna help Non (and possibly Keng or maybe not, idk and it really doesn't matter for now), we've gotta assume he's a possible suspect for the murderer. And even more so under this optic that Non is alive. Who more than a person whose whole reality seemed to be the mafia and who might've escaped it would be okay with murdering people? Right? Or, on the contrary, that he took a liking to Non and is trying to prevent him from further digging himself a hole in life and is trying to save him from himself.

"Okay, Dante, but, even if that's true, where does White fit in all this?" Glad. You. Asked.

You see, I didn't watch The Hidden Character (and those who did apparently recommend it stays that way). I didn't know any of these people before except those who were in Kinnporsche. And you know what that led me to? Curiously enough, dear reader: confusing Fuaiz with Perth. So, yeah, you know where this is going... White and Perth's character might be related. Brothers, probably.

"All because you think they look alike?" Well, if you ignore the way I just explained how it would tie some very loose ends... Yeah, kinda. BUT, in my defence, it makes a lot of genetic sense.

See, no other characters in the show really look this much alike. Believe me, I tested it.

For this purpose, I tried many different sites but the one that seemed to give me the most reliable results was FaceShape. Most characters got no more than 10%, some even got 0% (e.g. New and Perth's Character). And you wanna know how much White and Perth's character got? Nearly 50%.

For comparison reasons, New and Non who are CANONICALLY brothers, got about 30%.

BUT, if this is not convincing enough, my sister and I (who share EXACTLY the same 2 parents) got lower than them.

(pls ignore the picture, I was trynna make it as accurate as possible so I took a front pic with a neutral expression. also, my sister is censored for privacy reasons)

Now... Will I claim this is irrefutable proof? No. Not at all, but think about it: if White and Perth are related that might maybe explain how Tee and White met. It might also explain that really weird scene in the pre-release trailer (albeit all scenes in that are rather odd) where White-

Yes, thank you, Obi-Wan. And Anakin Tee is looking up at him, as if White has more power than Tee does. Because then, it could probably mean that White knows something and is probably there to do something. What exactly? Idk, man. He could be there to ensure the group remains clueless/confused or that they remain where they need to be for things to work... Or he could be there to try and prevent stuff from happening much to the likeness of what I stated for Perth's character's case.

"Oh, but if he knows something, wouldn't he know what happened to Non? Why would he be curious to watch the recording??"

Well, not necessarily. We know Non is not communicative and that he doesn't typically share his problems with anyone (the exception being Keng, obviously, but then again, the exception confirms the rule). And sure, Keng might be more talkative but idk if he would say something if Non asked him not to. I have a feeling he probably wouldn't (since he has that weird thing JJ mentioned about how he "loves Non" and, therefore, even if he's an abuser, he doesn't perceive himself that way and wouldn't do something he actively thinks would hurt Non). So, while Perth's character would know what happened to Non while he was being held by Tee's uncle and even some things about why he is there, he probably wouldn't know the rest.

But then why would he date Tee? Well, this is a narrative so... Foils are something that can happen. Having White and his relationship with Tee be a parallel to that of Phee and Jin is not weird and, in fact, has happened in the very first episode when both couples arrive at the room where the singles are, in pairs. Therefore, it wouldn't be weird to think of White as someone who maybe also fell in love with the guy that was supposed to be a means to an end or, alternatively, and perhaps more interestingly, have White NOT be in love with him and actually succeed, unlike Phee. Thus, drawing the comparison that, while Tee and White are in a relationship, White didn't fall in love and, inversely, while Phee and Jin aren't in a relationship, Phee did fall in love.

And this would mean that all we've seen of White's fear might, in fact, be an act to throw suspicion off of him. Or even more justified because he knows exactly what's lurking in the woods... After all, why would he suddenly join Jin's goodbye party if he's not a friend of Jin's? What reason better than to tag along your boyfriend's getaway with his friends if not to protect him from the terrible consequences of his actions?

But I get it. It's an extremely convoluted theory and, in all honesty, maybe makes the show more dull and boring if it's true because... Why would they repeat this "secret brother" twist? Or the dating with second intentions trope? It could be a narrative parallel, yes, but I can also definitely see how people could point that out as uncreative or lazy writing.

Either way: these thoughts were circling around my head and, before the next episode confirms or destroys them, I wanted to get them out into the world for y'all to, maybe, hopefully, join in on the hype for it, as it's less than 24h 'till it airs. Hope in that I was successful, at the very least.

Anyway... As usual feel free to (politely) argue with me, tell me I'm wrong, tell me I missed this and that, add to it, etc... Because if there's one thing I currently love more than DFF itself, it's definitely the fandom and I want us to make the most of it!!

I'll see y'all tomorrow when we're freaking out about episode 10!!!

All the love! 💜💜💜

[specialagentartemis]

As someone who doesn't really like grimdark -- my biggest annoyance in 'historical style' fantasy writing (y'know, the standard medieval fantasy, or other eras) is that everything is trying so hard to be Game of Thrones, and it's just like 'please stop'. Not everything has to be about the conception of society being a terrible place full of violence and violence being the only answer and everything is dirty and everyone is mean, and so on so forth that GRRM and his fans like to posit as 'historically accurate'.

People have always been people, whatever era they lived in. They liked colourful things, they wrote shopping lists and asked their parents to remember them to their siblings and friends, they cared about keeping up appearances, they found joy in the lives they lived and the things around them, they cursed poor candelight and cats smudging their ink, they left behind marks that mean we know even now that they existed, and they sang and told stories as they worked.

Yeah, sure, wars happened, plagues happened, they didn't have the modcons and knowledge we do now, but that doesn't change that they were people doing what people do.

... I think this is why I like Pratchett, honestly. He acknowledges the way that people will be people, even down to the faults that come of it, but he also acknowledges the funnier side of things, and even the brighter, more hopeful, more optimistic side of things.

But yeah, this is why I can't be having with grimdark.

Undeniably! I don't disagree with you that there's a lot more to life and history than suffering. That's important.

I admit I don't read a whole lot of medieval-esque fantasy. I actually really loved A Song of Ice and Fire for some of the most compelling character writing and political intrigue I've read in fantasy, but it's not my go-to genre. What books are doing it in a grimdark way? I guess I would hardly be surprised if there's that kind of trend-chasing in medievalesque historicalesque second-world fantasy, but I've often found descriptions of being "grimdark" to boil down to "I didn't like it" more than naming a consistent set of traits tbh.

I'm an archaeologist, haha; I definitely know the feeling of connecting with humanity across the centuries and millennia, looking and something and thinking, oh, wow! I do that, or I've seen that, or that's just like us... I study 700 year old pottery, and there's something special about holding a pot that was clearly made by a child, because it looks basically the same as the pinch-pots I made in elementary school art class. It's something that I definitely think people writing in very different times and cultures could stand to remember more, that people inhabited these lives. Making characters feel like real people who really live in this world is a perennial pitfall of second-world sff. That's for sure.

But people being people doesn't just mean being nice and funny and quirky. Like, very often it does mean being selfish or prejudiced or suspicious of people unlike them. Generosity is ubiquitous in humans vultures, and so is violence.

I love Terry Pratchett! I love Discworld! He definitely has one of the sharpest, most sympathetic satirical eyes for modern life, and I love Discworld for that. But the Discworld books are also comedies, and not the be-all end-all of fantasy. I dunno. I kind of get tired, sometimes, of the "people are inherently good actually" discourse of tumblr. I don't believe that. I don't believe people are inherently bad either; I don't believe people are inherently anything other than prone to ingroup/outgroup thinking tbh.

I'm definitely not saying you have to like grimdark fantasy. I don't think anyone has to like any genre. I try not to moralize liking genres. I get a lot of value out of books that feel to me like they're acknowledging that sometimes things really are that bad and sometimes people are mean and you gotta deal with it. I'm not always in the mood for that. Certainly I have plenty of faves that aren't depressing as well (I do love Discworld! I blog about The Murderbot Diaries a Lot!) I'm interested in books that make an attempt to portray the best, most utopian society the author can imagine. I just... also, for example, read Ninefox Gambit at the height of the pandemic when no one knew what was going on and no one knew when there would be a vaccine and there were protests every day being met with police brutality and I was throwing up nearly everything I ate out of anxiety, and the violence and the war and the heavy imperial dystopianness of it calmed my brain down a lot during that time. Because "react badly to plagues" and "violence" are also what people do, and at that time, it resonated to see someone agreeing.

[not-xpr-art]

Inside no 9 - Series 8 painting studies ~

Penultimate series!! We're nearly at the end guys!

The angle for the Mother's Ruin painting was less of a struggle than I thought it'd be tbh! It helps that it's really dark lol

I KNEW the Paraskavedekatriaphobia (which I still can't say lol... it's like that really long Welsh town name... I can do the start and the end, but everything in the middle confuses me lol) one was gonna be a nightmare to paint and it was lol but I do love how it turned out in the end!

Another thing I think I mentioned on bsky was how I really enjoyed painting those severed fingers in a jar lmao... Thank you inside no 9 for letting me live out my 'drawing weird shit' dreams pfft

Also MAJOR spoiler for 3 by 3 I know but there really wasn't any other shot from that one that I could feasibly use for it was there?

Doesn't really look like it but The Last Weekend one was really hard to paint lol... I didn't fuss that much over the other times I painted them face on but this was such an iconic shot that I really wanted to do justice so I hope I achieved that!

In general I also just love how rich the colours were in this series tbh! I feel like a lot of the earlier series are a lot more muted whereas this one has a lot of fun theatrical lighting tbh!

Only one series left eep! I really appreciate everyone for still enjoying this series even after all these posts pfft <3

[copia]

Get to Know Your Mutuals! tagged by @circle--of--confusion, tysm!! <3 (sorry it took me a while to do this)

what's the origin of your username? ...hehe (this one is obvious but my main is the name of a mediocre torchwood episode)

OTP(s) + shipname: not big into shipping tbh - for ghost i'll pick a ghoul who serves my nefarious purposes with the papa of the hour lmao

favourite colour: blue :3

song stuck in my head: do i have to say it (satanized!!!!!!!!)

weirdest habit/trait: i've got autism so weird traits are my diagnosis :/ i really enjoy getting piercings or blood tests/vaccinations which is apparently odd, and i'm so un-squeamish that it worries my mother

hobbies: besides yapping on the internet and looking at copia images (and writing/editing) i play piano and do muay thai! both are kind of difficult to access atm (there's only one piano on campus and my gym takes an hour to get to). i occasionally do western boxing too and have sailed a lot (dinghies & the odd yacht) but that's an impossibility with my current financial/academic situation

if you work, what's your profession? full time student atm, studying biomed engineering (electronics). i'm in my final year and am struggling. planning a potential career change to vet med but that'll have to be after a bit of work (& probably getting more lab experience)

if you could have any job you wish what would you have? vet!!! i'm back to where I was at 5 years old with that one. bad work experience put me off pursuing it straight out of school but i was an idiot 16 year old when i made that decision, and also didn't see a future for myself. i can see one now and i know what's right for it :D i'll be applying for accelerated grad courses next year if they'll accept my biomed (cough electronic cough engineering) degree for that

something you're good at: maths

something you hate: embedded programming and machine learning and signal processing and matlab and eagle pcb design oh my god dont get me started

something you collect: i don't collect anything but i do own 3 copies of the three musketeers. and i'll reach 4 i'm not messing around

something you forget: not much, not even nights out. i have autism

your love language: idk what counts as a love language tbh. i like being helpful or giving people things or generally doing something that makes them happy. but ig that's just what love is as a whole

favourite movies/shows: hannibal!!

favourite food: was rømmegrøt when i could still eat/access it but my current fav is laoganma chilli in oil ... laoganma BELOVED (my housemate gave me a cushion with laoganma printed on it with the corresponding maritime letter flags because she knows me very well)

favourite animal: my cat tommy (16yrs in these photos. isn't he stunning)

what were you like as a child? autistic

favourite subject in school: english!

least favourite subject: german, because it wasn't taught well (like any mfl in uk state schools from my experience) and nobody took it seriously

what's your best character trait? this one got me thinking because idk. but i think i'm very non-judgemental. got the mindset 'all people are people' to an extreme

what's your worst character trait? i can get quite jealous, and not to be tmi but the emotional dysregulation is bad. won't elaborate 😭

if you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be? also a bit tmi but i'd love for my father to be a real one sometimes

if you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? the set of great-grandparents on my mother's side who i never got to meet :') they were my mum's real parents and i think i would have loved them

tagging (no pressure as per usual and i'm sorry if anyone here has already been tagged!)-- @unsettlingcreature @watertankafternoon @vpyre @delullu @lilspacewolfie @dolceterzo @sadistic-cardinal :3

[covetyou]

ty @perotovar for the tag you cutie pie. I love silly little questions (I'm procrastinating making dinner and writing, so I'd love anything more than those things rn tbh)

me yapping below, if you'd like to know silly little answers to some questions

Do you make your bed?: a vague attempt at flapping my sheets is made most days, but it's never neatly made.

Favorite number?: 7! I can't tell you why it just has always been that way. when I found out my sun sign is in my 7th house I had an "of course 😌" moment even though I don't really even know what that means but it feels right.

What's your job?: books! and data!

If you could go back to school, would you?: there was a time I seriously considered a masters so I could go more ham with using corpora to study trends in language, but I didn't. now I literally work with data and databases and analysis of that data, and books have words in them so 🤷‍♀️

Can you parallel park?: I don't know what I'm capable of (I got my full license a little over a decade ago and can legally go buy a car and drive it all by myself even though honestly I have no clue if I can even drive any more and I'd probably be a major hazard. I've never driven a car with a full license, not as a learner)

Do you think aliens are real?: with how impossibly massive the universe is? duh. as long as they stay away though pls and thank you.

Can you drive a manual car?: I am licensed to, though once again, who knows what I am capable of (this sounds like a threat and maybe it is)

What's your guilty pleasure?: no guilty pleasures here!

Tattoos?: none! I've thought of various ideas for them for years and years and never committed to anything because I am so painfully indecisive. I will probably get one soon though, it is perfect but the idea makes me devastatingly sad. (a little print of my dogs paw on the top of my right foot - she always stands on it and always leaves a little indent and I'd like to walk with her forever)

Favorite color?: pink or yellow

Do you like puzzles?: fuck yes! we have one on the go called pumpkin patch right now. I'm very tempted by a colourful mushroom one too.

Any phobias?: yes, and I'm not typing it out because that makes me feel Worse™ and feeds into my OCD in ways I do not need at any time, let alone at nighttime.

Favorite childhood sport?: I hated team sports as a kid and still do now. I played rugby for a little while when I was 15, and liked when we did tennis or hockey during PE, but outside of that sport was not for me. turns out I'm a solo exercise bitch though.

Do you talk to yourself?: I am fortunate enough to have a dog who I can direct most of my chronic yapping towards, so I look less insane and feel less compelled to talk to myself. I do do the standard "what the fuck am I doing" and the like when I enter a room and immediately forget why I went there in the first place

no clue who has done this or not but @milla-frenchy @jolapeno @strang3lov3 @beefrobeefcal

and, finally, puppy tax for getting this far

[unusuallysubtext]

If you're still doing the Sherlock life thing, I'd love it if you could sort me :D

I'd prefer to be in a romantic relationship with a man

My love language is mainly physical touch and words of affirmation. I usually wear comfy clothes that have a funky pattern or something I just find cool (kinda like street style). I have short brown hair that I usually just leave messy because I can't be bothered to sort it out lmao.

I spend my days usually just hanging out with people I care about, or playing games on my phone. I enjoy logic puzzles and I'm good with numbers (I have a streak of over 1200 on sudoku). I study History and Philosophy because I've always been interested in those sorts of topics and I love discussing these things with people and seeing their different points of views and opinions on topics.

I love doing crafts in my spare time as well, I crochet, I draw, I can paint decently well, and I love sewing. I usually make little trinkets, sew clothes or draw bugs or skeletons or smth, anything I like the look of tbh.

I hope this is enough information, thank you do much :D

Sherlock Holmes

Sherlock first saw you when you were being escorted far away from the scene of a presumed murder

You protested and explained that you were simply trying to draw a replica of the skeleton found seatbelted inside a Prius, but to no avail

On his way out of the crime scene, Sherlock approached you as you sat on the curb kicking rocks, drawing what you could from memory

It was at that point that you accompanied Sherlock Holmes and John Watson to every single case, working on sketches

Your eye could capture details that a camera couldn't, defining characteristics that Sherlock could later read on

One night, late after a case, you sat on the sofa of 221b with a progressing crochet project when Sherlock flopped down next to you, legs outstretched over your lap

Although you were caught by surprise, the two of you spent the next few hours simply hanging out

You spoke of various philosophers and history, knowledge of which Sherlock possessed none

He listened intently to you, understanding why your sketches were so much more lively and telling than a clean shot of photography

Together, you made a great team, seeing things from one another's logic

You were chill, automatically rubbing off on Sherlock and keeping him in check, and soon enough, simply chatting on the sofa late at night turned to laying next to each other and even falling asleep

The first time John came down and saw Sherlock asleep at nine-thirty in the morning, he was jumping with joy (silently), ever grateful the detective had found someone willing to match his freak, as the young people say

He secretly enjoys your comfortable, baggy street-style clothing, a fresh change in his everyday dark block colour polyester/cotton blend button-ups that hug his figure, whether it's (trying to) try it on or simply keeping it with him

And if you're with him, there is no doubt he will hold you close, arms wrapped around you at night, or simply sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the sofa ❤️

-

hope you liked it, anon! tagging @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @that-ace-idiot @the-girl-who-simps-too-much

Your Sherlock Life asks are still open!

[kiivg]

This ain't really a question, but just more of declaration of love 😭

Every 2 to 3 business weeks or so I'll look at the #sketchbook tags on your blog and just stare at it in awe 😭 The crosshatching is done so well I know exactly what I'm looking at ,, and the speedpaints too... Sigh. Your art style is so good, the lines are clean and clear, the colouring minimal but impactful. I'd recognise your art anywhere 😭😭❤️

Safe to say I'm currently doing a study on my favourite Tumblr artist's art style and it's such a blast to study yours!! Thank you for sharing them with us ❤️❤️

With love,

Pessimystified

.BROOOOO 😭😭😭😭😭😭 TYSM 🫶💕🫶😭🫶😭😭💕.

.I actually feel really good about my traditional stuff and about how much more confidence I have in drawing now since I only use ink, I’ve got like three sketchbook weeks I haven’t posted yet because two are like ‘ehhh can I post these’ and I’ve just finished the third 👌 Am gonna queue them up tho so….

.But this is actually the first sketchbook in years that I’ve actually made decent progress through, and I’m putting that down to a) it actually being constricted individual studies as opposed to ideas, and b) not being done in pencil because that medium for some reason just annoys me lmao 🤷‍♂️ like I’m decent at it but it’s just ????? to me. Oh and it’s breaking, and the spine binding thing ripped in half earlier this month (properly this time) WHICH IS GOOD I do love a wrecked book tbh 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ I don’t know if you can see the bodged mounting tape fix I attempted last time 😳👌.

.if u ever post that study tho lemme kno girl 👀👀.

[bishovapls]

Hold On - Part 2: Widow's don't have feelings...do they?

Pairing: Yelena Belova & Kate Bishop

Chapter Summary: Kate and Yelena head to the Bartons' farm, but things aren't as simple as they hoped. Yelena starts to feel something she can't quite name while Kate’s emotions are all over the place, a storm she can’t seem to control. It’s messy, raw, and neither of them know how to handle it. Meanwhile, Laura’s watching them like a hawk, when she notices something could be brewing between Kate and Yelena.

Warnings: mentions of previous suicide attempt, Red Room abuse (mention of punishments but barely), so much crying it is actually painful (and dramatic tbh), Alcohol use.

A/N: This chapter is like 95% Yelena's POV, hope you’re not mad about that! And seriously, it’s way more angsty than I intended. I didn’t mean for them to spend most of the chapter in tears, but here we are. Word count: 16k

P.S: So, according to Google Maps, it takes about 16 hours to drive from New York to Iowa. So I had them drive for 16 hours, so if that's totally wrong, blame Google Maps, I'm just a Brit who has no clue about America!

Part 2 begins below the cut, you can also find the fic on AO3. I also have a masterlist.

Part 1 here.

The road stretched out before them, the city lights fading in the distance as Yelena and Kate finally got on their way. They had taken one of Eleanor’s many cars, a sleek, expensive thing that Kate barely even recognised. Yelena had chosen it for the space, it was big enough that they wouldn’t feel cramped, and wouldn’t be forced into close quarters for hours on end, especially when Lucky joined them on the way back.

Yelena had taken the first shift driving, a decision that made sense since Kate was still battling the worst hangover of her life. But what Kate hadn’t noticed was the exhaustion shadowing Yelena’s features. She hadn’t slept. Yelena didn't bring it up either, well not after the brief mention this morning. Yelena had survived on days without sleep, she wasn't about to let one night slow her down, even if she wasn't as young and resilient as she used to be. Kate was already a mess, and Yelena wasn’t about to add to that.

Kate slumped against the passenger seat, arms crossed over her stomach as if she could physically hold herself together. Every bump in the road, every sudden stop, every slight turn sent another fresh wave of nausea rolling through her. It didn’t matter that she had eaten, that she had chugged water, that she had taken a shower in an attempt to reset, nothing helped. She felt like death. Worse than death. And judging by the way Yelena kept sneaking glances at her, Kate knew she looked as awful as she felt.

Music played softly through the speakers, a quiet attempt to fill the silence between them, but Yelena wasn’t stupid. She could see how miserable Kate was, see the way her face had lost all colour, the way her body tensed every time the car shifted slightly. With a sigh, she reached forward and turned the volume down even further before glancing over at her properly. 

“Kate Bishop,” she said, voice softer than usual. “Why don’t you close your eyes and sleep?”

Kate shook her head instantly which was a big mistake. The movement sent her stomach flipping violently, her headache pulsing harder in response, and she swallowed thickly against the nausea. “I’m fine,” she said through gritted teeth, blinking rapidly to keep herself from throwing up.

Yelena didn’t buy that for a second. She studied Kate for a moment longer, her sharp eyes scanning the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers clenched around her stomach. And then, just as casually, she asked, “Are you scared of having a nightmare?”

Kate’s head snapped up, her whole body stiffening. Shit. I can’t let her know I have nightmares. She already probably thinks I’m pathetic.

The thought was instant, automatic. She didn’t want Yelena to see her as any weaker than she already felt. She had already embarrassed herself enough, first on the rooftop, then with her drunken confessions, then waking up to find Yelena had babysat her all night. If Yelena knew how often she woke up gasping for breath, her heart hammering in her chest, her mind tangled in memories she couldn’t escape, she would never let Kate live it down.

“I don’t have nightmares,” Kate said smoothly, keeping her voice as even as possible. And to her own surprise, it actually sounded convincing.

But Yelena wasn’t stupid. “Kate, you had one last night,” she pointed out, her brows pulling together in concern. It was only now, watching Kate’s confusion, that she realised she must have forgotten. A fresh wave of worry crashed over her. How much had Kate actually drank last night? Yelena’s mind immediately began sifting through why her memory had so many gaps.

Kate, meanwhile, kept her expression neutral. She could not let Yelena see the panic bubbling up inside her. “Oh, did I?” she said, she was actually surprised that she had a nightmare and didn't remember.

“Huh. Never had them before. Must’ve been the alcohol.” She delivered the lie so smoothly, so calmly, that even Yelena, who had spent years reading people, picking apart their weaknesses didn’t immediately catch it. She should have. But she was distracted and tired, and part of her wanted to believe Kate wasn’t waking up in terror every night.

“Oh.” Yelena hummed slightly, processing that. “Well, that is good, then.” She shifted, her grip relaxing on the steering wheel just a little. “So in that case, why won’t you sleep?”

Kate smirked slightly to herself. She had never been a particularly good liar, but Yelena was distracted by the road, clearly exhausted, and Kate knew she wasn’t picking up on the subtle cracks in her story. It felt like a small victory.

“I will eventually,” Kate said, leaning her head back against the seat, sighing. “I’m just… not particularly tired. I just feel like crap.” The last part, at least, wasn’t a lie.

By the tenth hour of driving, Yelena was exhausted. Her hands were steady on the wheel, but her body ached from sitting so long, and her mind was beginning to blur at the edges. She had been running on sheer willpower for hours now, determined to get them as far as possible before stopping.

Kate, despite all her earlier efforts to stay awake, had eventually given in, slumping against the passenger seat, her head tilted toward the window, her breathing slow and even. Yelena had watched her out of the corner of her eye, taking small moments to glance over whenever the road stretched empty ahead of them.

Pulling off the highway and into a rest stop, Yelena shifted the car into park and exhaled, rolling her neck to ease the stiffness settling in. She took a moment to stretch before turning her attention to Kate, still curled into herself, still lost in whatever dreams her exhausted mind had drifted into.

But Yelena knew they had been driving too long for Kate to sleep through this. If she didn’t wake her now, she would definitely regret it later.

With a sigh, she reached over and gently shook Kate’s arm. “Kate Bishop,” she murmured, her voice softer than usual, almost careful. “Wake up, we are at a rest stop. Come, we will eat, da? (yes)”

Kate groaned softly, blinking sluggishly as she surfaced from sleep, her brain taking a long moment to catch up. She stared at Yelena in groggy confusion, like she hadn’t fully processed the words yet. For a brief second, Yelena thought she might just go back to sleep, but then, slowly, Kate gave a small nod, rubbing at her eyes before dragging herself upright.

Yelena smirked as she watched Kate fumble with the seatbelt, her movements still clumsy from sleep. “Very graceful,” she teased lightly.

Kate shot her a half-hearted glare, but it lacked any real bite. She pushed open the door and stepped out onto the pavement, only to stumble slightly as her legs caught up with her. Yelena reached out instinctively, gripping her elbow before she could face-plant onto the concrete. Kate mumbled something under her breath, clearly annoyed at her own lack of coordination, but she didn’t pull away from Yelena’s steady hold as they started toward the diner attached to the rest stop.

The inside was exactly what Yelena expected, small, slightly worn-down, the kind of place that hadn’t changed in decades. The smell of coffee and greasy food filled the air, and the faint sound of an old jukebox hummed from the corner.

Kate slumped into the nearest booth, her head still heavy from sleep, her body still weighed down by exhaustion. She squinted at the menu, blinking rapidly, trying to force her eyes to focus long enough to actually read it. But her brain was not cooperating.

Yelena watched her struggle for a few moments before Kate let out a resigned sigh and shut the menu entirely. “I’m just gonna assume they have burgers and fries. And Coffee. That seems safe.”

Yelena let out an amused huff. “They do, I am ordering the same.”

Kate gave her a tired half-smile before dropping her head onto the table with a quiet groan. Yelena just smirked, shaking her head fondly as she waved over the waitress. She had a feeling they were going to need a lot of coffee.

---

By the time they got back to the car, Kate felt marginally more human. Two cups of coffee had worked their way through her system, cutting through the lingering fog of exhaustion, and the food had settled in her stomach enough to keep her from feeling like she might keel over. She had used the restroom, stretched out her stiff limbs, and, despite Yelena’s amused sighs, had spent an ungodly amount of time deliberating over which road trip snacks were essential.

Eventually, Yelena had just left her to it while she filled the tank, shaking her head as Kate stood in the gas station aisle, looking as if she were making a life-or-death decision between different brands of gummy worms.

Now, as they made their way back to the car, Kate tossed the bag of snacks into the footwell before turning to Yelena, holding out a hand expectantly. “Okay, give me the keys. I’ll drive the rest of the way.”

She did look better, the colour had returned to her face, and she no longer looked like she was one pothole away from throwing up all over the dashboard. But still, Yelena didn’t even entertain the idea of switching seats.

“No, it is okay,” Yelena said easily, slipping into the driver’s seat without hesitation. “I am happy to continue. We have around six hours left, give or take.”

Kate frowned at her, arms crossing over her chest. “Yelena, you can’t drive the whole way. That isn’t fair. You must be tired.”

Yelena laughed at that, the sound rich with amusement as she shot Kate a knowing look. “Oh, Kate Bishop,” she said with a smirk, her accent thickening ever so slightly. “I have stayed awake for much longer, and then killed many men. I think I can handle it.”

She said it so casually, so matter-of-factly, as if she hadn’t just dropped a bomb on Kate regarding her past. Kate felt her stomach twist slightly, the weight of Yelena’s words settling in. She had always known the Widows had endured things that were beyond her understanding, that the Red Room had been cruel. But she had never really looked into it, never fully considered the depth of what they experienced. 

“Are you sure?” Kate asked, her voice softer this time, more sincere. “I genuinely don’t mind, Yelena.”

Yelena didn’t even bother answering. Instead, she simply started the engine and glanced over, waiting for Kate to get in.

Kate rolled her eyes, muttering, “You are so stubborn.”

Yelena grinned, throwing the car into drive. “Da (yes), I have been told this.” She chuckled, clearly pleased with herself.

With an exaggerated sigh, Kate climbed into the passenger seat, pulling the seatbelt across her chest before shooting Yelena one last pointed look. “Fine. But if you start nodding off, I will take over.”

Yelena smirked, eyes fixed on the road as she pulled out of the gas station. “We will see, Kate Bishop.”

Yelena did not, in fact, nod off at any point during the journey. If anything, she seemed perfectly at ease behind the wheel, her energy never once faltering despite the long hours. And, to Kate’s surprise, the trip ended up being fun.

With the worst of her hangover finally behind her, Kate could actually enjoy the ride. Yelena cranked up the music, and before long, they were singing along to every song that came on, regardless of whether they actually knew the lyrics.

Kate didn’t even care that Yelena had an unfair advantage, her deep, sultry voice somehow made even the most ridiculous pop songs sound effortlessly cool. Meanwhile, Kate was all dramatic flair, belting the lyrics at full volume, adding unnecessary vocal runs and exaggerated air guitar. It had Yelena laughing so hard she nearly swerved off the road more than once.

Eventually, after much begging and exaggerated pouting, Yelena relinquished control of the music and Kate immediately put on ‘You Belong With Me’. The second it started, she was all in, singing at the top of her lungs, providing her own drum solos on the dashboard, bouncing in her seat like the car was her personal stage.

Yelena loved watching it, absolutely adored seeing Kate so carefree and happy. It was infectious, the way she threw herself into the moment without a single ounce of hesitation despite the sadness running through her. Yelena felt warm, content, even pleasantly buzzed from the sheer energy radiating off Kate. But the sensation unsettled her, that unfamiliar, creeping feeling of something deeper tugging at her chest.

And in true Yelena fashion, she deflected. “Kate Bishop,” she said suddenly, her voice serious despite the chaos. “Who sings this song?”

Kate, mid-drum solo, glanced at her, frowning in confusion. “Taylor Swift?” she answered, momentarily thrown by the idea that Yelena might somehow not know that.

Deadpan, Yelena nodded. “Well, maybe it should stay that way.”

For a second, Kate just stared at her, completely stunned. Then Yelena burst out laughing, her whole body shaking with amusement. “Your face!” she wheezed between laughs, gripping the wheel tightly as she struggled to keep her composure.

Kate’s jaw dropped in betrayal. “How the hell do you even know that dumb joke?” she grumbled, though she couldn’t fully hide the small smile tugging at her lips.

“I have my ways,” Yelena smirked, still catching her breath. “But it was funny, no?”

“I hate you,” Kate muttered, crossing her arms.

“Ha! No, you don’t,” Yelena shot back smugly. “Besides, I am helping you fetch your dog.”

“I can and I do,” Kate huffed, turning her gaze dramatically toward the window.

“Aw, don’t be like that, Kate Bishop. That really hurts my feelings,” Yelena teased, fake-pouting in a way that immediately melted Kate’s defences.

With a sigh, Kate rolled her eyes and relented. “I don’t hate you,” she admitted, then immediately perked up. “But we are restarting the song because you made me miss the best part.”

And with that, she pressed play again, throwing herself back into the song like nothing had happened.

And when they weren’t singing, they talked, about everything and nothing, slipping between sarcasm and sincerity as easily as breathing. The car became its own little world, filled with laughter and the kind of effortless back-and-forth neither of them had to think too hard about.

It had been another four hours before Kate began to get antsy again, the familiar gnaw of hunger making itself known. She stretched in her seat, letting out a dramatic sigh. “You know, I think I might actually die if we don’t stop for food soon.”

Yelena scoffed, shaking her head. “You are so dramatic, Kate Bishop.” Without taking her eyes off the road, she leaned over, effortlessly popping open the glove compartment with one hand. Kate barely had a second to react before a handful of snacks were unceremoniously tossed into her lap.

“Here,” Yelena said, her tone exasperated but laced with amusement. “Eat the snacks you spent forever choosing.”

Kate blinked down at the pile, momentarily caught off guard, while Yelena smirked, settling back into her seat. “I am doing all the work here,” she added, hands steady on the wheel as the car sped down the highway. “You are just sitting pretty.”

Kate turned toward her, grinning. “Oh, so you think I’m pretty?” she teased, eyebrow arched, fully expecting to fluster Yelena. She knew it was just a saying, but still, a part of her wanted to see if she could get a reaction.

For a split second, she thought she saw the faintest hint of pink on Yelena’s cheeks, but just as quickly, it was gone, like it had never been there at all. Then Yelena scoffed, her voice perfectly even. “Do not flatter yourself, it is just an expression. It means you are enjoying yourself while I do all the hard work.”

Kate wasn’t sure why that stung. It was stupid, she shouldn’t have cared, shouldn’t have expected anything else, but a small, irrational part of her had wanted Yelena to at least humor her. To play along. But she swallowed the disappointment down, covering it with a smirk.

“A. That was rude. I’ll have you know I’ve been called pretty by some very attractive women in my time,” she said, flicking her hair over her shoulder for dramatic effect.

Yelena’s jaw tensed, her grip on the steering wheel tightening ever so slightly, though she didn’t immediately know why. Something about Kate casually talking about other women sent an unfamiliar twist through her stomach. But before she could even begin to unpack it, Kate kept going.

“And B. I offered to drive, but you were being a stubborn ass.”

Yelena scoffed. “Kate, I do not trust your driving skills. I would like to get to the Bartons in one piece. I have important plans.”

Kate narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “What kind of plans?”

Yelena’s smirk only widened as she tapped the side of her nose, her voice dropping into something almost sinister. “You will see,” she said smoothly. “Let’s just say Clint might want to start sleeping with one eye open.”

The way she said it, so casual yet so menacing sent a dramatic shiver down Kate’s spine. “Yelena,” she said slowly, half-amused, half-concerned. “What the hell are you planning?”

Yelena simply chuckled, eyes fixed on the road, looking far too pleased with herself. “Don’t worry about it, Kate Bishop,” she purred. “It will be…fun.”

Kate did worry about it. But she also kind of couldn’t wait to find out.

The truth was, Yelena had no real plans to mess with Clint, at least, not in his own home, not around his kids, and definitely not in a way that would upset Kate. But teasing about it made her feel better, gave her something to hold onto, a distraction from the lingering resentment that still sat heavy in her chest. Because no matter how much she tried to move past it, a part of her still couldn't forgive him for letting Natasha make that jump.

As the journey stretched on, they slipped back into their effortless rhythm, singing, talking, and trading playful jabs. Yelena’s relentless teasing was a constant, but Kate didn’t mind. More importantly, for once, she wasn’t overthinking. Her mind wasn’t tangled in the usual web of dark thoughts, wasn’t weighed down by exhaustion or self-loathing. 

Instead, she just felt light. She felt happy. The contrast from the night before was almost jarring, she had stood on that rooftop convinced she would never feel this way again, convinced she had reached the end of whatever fight she had left in her. And yet, here she was, laughing, really laughing, in a car with an ex-assassin who had, somehow, become one of the most important people in her life in seconds.

She knew this wouldn’t last. She knew the weight would creep back in eventually, that the shadows in her mind weren’t gone, just momentarily pushed aside. But maybe that was okay. Maybe, for now, all she had to do was follow through on the promise she had made, even if she had been drunk when she made it.

She would try. Because right now, trying felt good.

---

By the time they finally pulled up to the Barton farm the night stretched dark and endless above them, the crisp air biting at their skin as they sat in the now-parked car, momentarily suspended in the stillness. The long drive had taken its toll, and Yelena, despite her seemingly endless stamina, could finally feel the fatigue settling into her bones. She had been running on autopilot for the past few hours, and while she didn’t need sleep right now, she had to admit, it would be nice.

Kate, on the other hand, was buzzing. All traces of her earlier hangover had disappeared, replaced by a restless, excited energy that had her practically vibrating in her seat. Whether it was from the anticipation of seeing Lucky or the residual adrenaline of having a genuinely good time for the first time in what felt like forever, Yelena wasn’t entirely sure. But Kate was practically bouncing, barely waiting for the car to be fully stopped before throwing off her seatbelt and hopping out onto the gravel driveway.

Yelena sighed, rubbing a hand over her face before forcing herself out of the car, moving slower, more measured. The cold hit her immediately, seeping through her jacket, but she ignored it, stretching out her stiff limbs as Kate had already started toward the house.

Before they could even reach the front door, it swung open.

“Kate!” Lila barreled straight into her, arms wrapping around her waist in a forceful hug that nearly knocked Kate back a step. Kate barely had time to react before she was hugging her back, laughing as she lifted Lila off the ground slightly. “Hey! You miss me or something?”

“Duh!” Lila scoffed, squeezing her tighter before pulling away.

The second Kate had room to breathe again, Clint stepped forward, clapping a hand on her shoulder before pulling her into a hug as well. It was warm and familiar, something that Kate hadn’t realised she needed until she was in it.

But before she could fully enjoy the moment, a blur of golden fur came bounding toward her. Kate barely had time to brace herself before Lucky launched into her, paws pressing against her chest as he tackled her to the ground. She hit the dirt with a startled laugh, immediately met with an onslaught of sloppy kisses as Lucky wagged his tail furiously, jumping over her, whining happily, licking every inch of her face he could reach.

“Oh my God, Lucky! I missed you too, bud, okay, I get it—” Kate gasped between laughs, trying to push him back just enough to breathe, but Lucky was determined to smother her with love.

And then, suddenly, she was crying. She hadn’t planned on crying, hadn’t expected it, but the second she felt Lucky’s familiar warmth, the overwhelming affection in every wag of his tail, the pure joy of being reunited the tears just came.

Yelena stood back, watching the entire scene unfold with an unreadable expression. It was… nice, she supposed. Seeing the way she lit up as Lucky practically tried to crawl into her lap, whining and nudging his head against her like he never wanted to let her go. The way Clint and his daughter embraced her so easily, so fully, like she belonged here.

But Yelena? Yelena did not belong here. She could feel it in the way her muscles stayed taut, in the way her fingers twitched toward her weapons despite the clear lack of danger.

This was Clint Barton’s home. The man she had blamed for Natasha’s death. The man she had nearly killed. The man she had hunted down only a couple of weeks ago.

They were friends now, sure and logically, she knew that Clint wasn’t the type to hold grudges. That he had welcomed her into this space because he cared and wanted to. But standing here, on his property, at his home, the place where his family slept? It felt like a trap. 

Her training screamed at her to stay alert, to never let her guard down, to anticipate the betrayal before it happened. And Clint being Clint, noticed. He had spent enough time studying Natasha and her moods to know when a widow was not okay. 

His sharp eyes flickered toward her, tracking the stiffness in her shoulders, the way her stance hadn’t fully relaxed.

“Yelena,” he said, his voice steady but kind, the same tone he always used when he knew someone was about to bolt. “You don’t have to be so tense. You’re welcome here. Just as much as Kate.”

Yelena barely reacted, her expression carefully blank. But she heard him. Clint gave her a small smile before adding, “You’re my best friend’s sister. She’d want me to treat you like family.”

Yelena’s stomach twisted. She knew he meant it. She knew Natasha would have wanted that. But being wanted, being welcomed, those were still foreign concepts. She had spent so long as a weapon, as a ghost, slipping through the cracks of the world without ever truly being part of it.

And yet, as Clint gestured toward the open door, as the warmth of the house spilled out onto the porch, as Kate finally looked up from the ground, teary-eyed and grinning and smiled at her like she actually wanted her here Yelena decided that maybe she could try. Maybe it was time to be part of something more, because she sure as hell didn’t want to spend the rest of her life alone. 

Once inside, the warmth of the Barton home wrapped around them, a stark contrast to the biting cold of the night outside. The house smelled familiar, like pine and something subtly spiced, maybe cinnamon, something comforting. It was lived in, full of life, full of family. Kate exhaled softly beside her, already feeling at ease, but Yelena felt like she had just stepped into enemy territory.

Clint took their bags and coats before gesturing for them to follow. Kate already knew where she was going, heading toward her usual guest room on the first floor with the ease of someone who belonged there. Yelena hesitated for just a second before forcing herself forward, keeping her expression neutral as Clint led her further into the house and up the stairs.

Then he stopped in front of a door and Yelena’s stomach twisted before he even spoke. “Now, if this is too much, just tell me…” Clint started, shifting slightly, rubbing the back of his neck in a way that told her he wasn’t entirely sure how this was going to go. “But I figured, since you’re here, you might want to be close to her.”

Yelena’s breath hitched and Clint pushed open the door, stepping aside as she looked past him into the dimly lit room. “This was Nat’s room,” he said gently. “We haven’t changed it since…”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to. Yelena’s feet refused to move at first, like crossing the threshold would be crossing some kind of line, some boundary she hadn’t prepared herself for.

But then she stepped inside. The air felt thicker in here. Not suffocating, but heavy, weighted with something unspoken, something lingering. The scent of fresh linens and lemon-scented cleaner filled the space, but underneath it, barely there, was something familiar.

Something that made her chest ache.

It was Natasha. It had faded, of course, it had been a long time and scent was always the first thing to disappear, but it was still there, somehow woven into the very fabric of the space a mixture of leather and the floral undertone of her perfume. She could almost see her sister here, curled up in the chair by the window as she read. Could picture her tossing a knife absentmindedly between her hands while she listened to music, her legs kicked up onto the bed like she owned the place.

For a split second, Yelena let herself imagine that if she turned around, Natasha would be standing there, arms crossed, giving her one of those dry, knowing smirks. But she wasn’t and she never would be again. Yelena’s throat tightened, her hands curling into fists at her sides as she tried to keep it together.

Clint cleared his throat, trying to fill the silence. “We, uh…we did change the sheets. Cleaned it up a little before you got here,” he added, almost awkwardly, like he was unsure if she wanted him to leave it untouched or not. “Wanted it to be fresh… you know, since it has been a while.”

She barely heard him. Because there was too much inside her chest, too much grief cramming itself into a space that was already full. And before she could stop it, before she could shove it back down where it belonged, a small, broken sound slipped from her lips.

A whimper.

She clenched her jaw immediately, but it was too late, the crack had already formed. Clint didn’t say anything. Didn’t react beyond a quiet shift in his stance. Clint of course knew better, he knew Yelena would hate herself for that small act of weakness so he ignored it. He just waited.

Yelena swallowed hard, forcing down the sharp, aching lump in her throat before managing, in a voice that barely sounded like her own, “Thank you, Barton.” It was all she could get out.

Clint nodded, and for a second, he looked like he wanted to say something else, something meaningful, something real, but instead, he just reached out and clapped a hand gently on her shoulder. “I’ll leave you to it,” he said, his voice steady, offering her an out. “Kate’s probably already eating me out of house and home.” He smirked slightly, trying to lighten the weight in the room. “You can come down and eat or you can stay, it's your choice.”

Yelena could only manage a stiff nod, her throat too tight to force out any more words. Clint held her gaze for a moment longer, something unspoken passing between them, understanding, maybe, or an attempt at comfort but he didn’t linger. He just gave her a small, knowing nod of his own before stepping back, pulling the door closed behind him with a quiet click.

And then she was alone. Alone in Natasha’s room. The stillness settled over Yelena immediately, thick and suffocating, pressing into her chest like a weight she hadn’t been prepared to carry. She drew in a shaky breath, the first real breath she’d allowed herself since stepping inside, but the air felt thick in her lungs. It hurt. It always hurt.

It was the kind of pain that settled deep, not sharp but aching, curling itself around her ribs and squeezing tight. Because Natasha was here, in the walls, in the air, in the faintest traces of a scent that had almost faded. She was in the memories lingering in every untouched object, in the worn edges of the bookshelf, in the creases of the blankets.

But she was also gone.

Yelena’s hands clenched into fists at her sides as she stood in the centre of the room, her breath coming too fast, too shallow. She searched desperately for something…anything to hold onto, but the reality crashed into her with brutal force. Natasha wasn’t coming back. No matter how many times she tried to pretend otherwise, no matter how tightly she shut her eyes and wished, she would never hear her sister’s voice again.

Her boots felt too heavy, suffocating, so she kicked them off without thinking, moving towards the bed in a daze. She hesitated before sitting, as if the action itself was something sacred, something she wasn’t sure she deserved. But then her knees buckled, and she let herself sink onto the mattress, pulling the covers over her head as she curled in on herself. Her arms wrapped tightly around the pillow, gripping it like a lifeline, and before she even realised it, hot tears were slipping down her cheeks, dampening the fabric.

Yelena cried quietly, always quietly. It was a habit ingrained in her from the Red Room, where weakness was not tolerated, where tears were met with punishment. She had learned early on that crying meant failure, meant vulnerability, meant something that could be exploited. So, she had stopped. For years, she had let the pain settle into her bones instead, silent and unseen. She had learned to bury it, to turn it into something she could live with. 

Until Natasha died.

After the Blip, after she came back to a world without her sister, the tears had returned, unwelcome and unrelenting. She had cried more in those months than she had in her entire life, sobbing into hotel pillows, breaking down in empty apartments. And she had hated it. Hated the way it made her feel weak, how it stripped away every ounce of control she had spent years perfecting.

She knew, logically, that it was okay to cry. That it was human. That she would never judge anyone else for it. But when it was her, when the tears were her own, it felt different. It felt pathetic. 

And yet, she couldn’t stop. Not here. Not now.

She cried for Natasha. She cried for the sister she would never get back, for the bond they’d shared that had been ripped away. She cried for the years she’d wasted in the Red Room, the years she could have spent with Natasha but never would. And she cried for herself, because, despite everything, she was still here. Still alive. Still holding on to a life that felt so empty without the one person who had been her anchor.

The tears fell for what felt like an eternity, each quiet sob wracking her body, her chest tight with the weight of her grief. She couldn’t stop them, couldn’t silence the ache that consumed her. Her breath hitched in uneven bursts, and she allowed herself to feel the weight of everything she’d been carrying. But eventually, exhaustion set in, her body too tired to keep fighting.

Her sobs quieted, the tears slowing to a trickle, leaving silent tracks on her cheeks. She curled further into herself, the pillow still clutched to her chest, and in the heavy stillness of the room, she finally drifted off to sleep. Her breathing slowed, the tears drying on her face as the world outside faded away, leaving only a haunting emptiness behind her closed eyelids.

---

The next morning, Yelena woke with the remnants of last night’s grief still simmering under the surface, but there was something different today. The weight in her chest hadn’t entirely gone away, the ache of missing Natasha still lingered, but it was quieter now, not quite as suffocating. The tears from the night before had cleared the heaviness, leaving behind a rawness that was easier to breathe through.

She had slept surprisingly well, though. The room, heavy with memories, had pressed in on her as she drifted off, but exhaustion had finally taken hold, and she had slept through the night undisturbed. It wasn’t peaceful, but it was the closest to peace she’d gotten in a long while.

As always, she woke precisely at 5:00 a.m. Her internal clock was as sharp as a blade, a rhythm ingrained into her from years of training, from the missions, from the endless days in the Red Room. No alarm needed. Her body had never learned how to sleep longer than it was told to. She couldn’t stay in bed, no matter how much she wished for the comfort of more sleep. It wasn’t a choice; it was just the way it worked.

But there was something new today. A quiet calm, a stillness in the house that she hadn’t expected to feel. It was strange, this peacefulness that hung in the air, but it gave her a sense of… grounding. Her main thought was on Kate. Kate was safe. At least for now. Safe from herself, safe from the darker impulses she battled, safe in a house full of people who cared for her. Yelena knew Kate wouldn’t do anything drastic here, not with Clint and Laura around, not with the kids, not with this strange warmth that radiated from the Bartons’ home.

Yelena rubbed a hand across her face, the coolness of her palm briefly grounding her, reminding her that there was still time, still moments of clarity between the swirling emotions. She moved to the ensuite bathroom, splashing cold water on her face, letting the chill cut through the remnants of sleep, clearing away the fog that hadn’t quite lifted.

For the first time in a long time, with no widow to save or contract to complete, no immediate crisis to navigate, Yelena found herself with time to simply exist. No immediate pressure, no distractions, just… space. She considered it for a moment, then decided she needed to do something; a run. The cool morning air would help her reset, help clear her head before the day really began. She wasn’t broken anymore, but the edges still felt sharp. Maybe this run would soften them, even if just for a little while.

But as she quietly made her way downstairs, she realised she wasn’t the only one awake. At first, it was just the soft murmur of voices, faint and distant, filtering up from the kitchen.  What caught Yelena’s attention, however, was the distinct sound of Kate’s voice. Her voice was quiet, but Yelena could tell Kate was tired. The other voice, the one that followed, Yelena recognised instantly, it belonged to Laura.

Curious, Yelena slowed her steps, moving towards the kitchen as silently as she could manage. She peered around the corner, watching the scene unfold before her. Kate sat at the kitchen island, her shoulders slightly hunched as she leaned over a steaming mug of coffee. Across from her, Laura stood, relaxed but attentive, leaning against the counter with her own cup in hand.

It was a quiet moment, a peaceful moment, but what struck Yelena most was the sight of Kate awake at this hour. She had expected Kate to be exhausted, still recovering from everything that had happened and the long day yesterday. The fact that Kate was here, awake and talking in the early morning, was almost more shocking than anything else. She was supposed to be dead to the world, and yet here she was, present, holding a conversation like everything was normal.

Yelena paused, just out of view. For a brief second, she felt a twinge of hesitation, like she wasn’t sure if she should interrupt. She didn’t quite understand why she hesitated, it wasn’t like she was unwelcome, not exactly. But there was something in the way Kate was talking to Laura, something in the air that made Yelena feel like an outsider. Maybe it was just the quiet, the softness of it all, or maybe it was the simple fact that she was still trying to figure out where she fit in this world.

For a moment, Yelena remained still, her eyes trained on Kate as she sat across from Laura, her voice soft and steady. But her moment of hesitation was interrupted when Laura’s voice cut through the stillness, her sharp eyes catching Yelena’s presence despite her best efforts to remain unnoticed.

“Good morning, honey. Would you like some coffee?” Laura asked, a warm, genuine smile spreading across her face.

Yelena blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the sudden recognition. She hadn’t expected to be seen so easily. She’d thought she had managed to stay hidden, blending into the background. But here Laura was, already aware of her presence. 

Before Yelena could even formulate a response, Laura added, her tone teasing but light, “You’re just like your sister. Natasha used to sneak around the house like this too. I’m trained to spot a snooping Widow,” she chuckled, a warm, knowing sound.

Yelena was stunned, her mouth opening slightly in disbelief. She hadn’t expected this. Laura was teasing her, and all Yelena could do was laugh, though she was still processing the fact that she’d been caught in the act of snooping. She hadn’t recovered from the surprise when Laura finished making her coffee and walked toward her with a cup in hand.

“I’m sure you’re aware, but I’m Laura,” she said gently, her smile still soft. “You’re Yelena, I know already. Now go sit.” She nudged Yelena toward the kitchen, her hand guiding her forward with a quiet firmness that left no room for argument.

Yelena obeyed without hesitation, making her way to the kitchen island where Kate was already seated. She sat down next to her, feeling the warmth of the space and the odd comfort of being part of something.

“Morning, Kate Bishop,” Yelena muttered, her voice still a little uncertain as she tried to settle into the normality of it all.

Kate glanced up at her, her tired eyes twinkling with something softer than Yelena was used to seeing. “Morning, Yelena... I don’t know your last name,” Kate said, a laugh escaping her lips. It was light, almost teasing, and yet, it held no malice.

"Belova," Yelena responded, her voice light, offering Kate a gentle smile. “Yelena Belova,” she added, the words slipping from her lips with an ease that surprised even her.

Kate couldn’t help herself, a chuckle escaping her as she leaned back slightly, grinning. "Alright, James Bond," she teased, her voice full of mischief.

Laura joined in, her soft laughter blending with Kate’s. Yelena feigned annoyance, raising an eyebrow, though the playful glint in her eyes betrayed her. “Ugh, I give you a personal piece of information and you tease me? Forget it, you’ve lost surname privileges,” she huffed dramatically, crossing her arms over her chest as if she were truly offended.

Kate, however, was unfazed, her grin widening. “Too late, Belova. I know it now,” she said with a wink, clearly enjoying the teasing far more than Yelena would have preferred.

Laura glanced between them, her smile soft and knowing, as though she could see something. “You want breakfast, Belova? Yelena Belova?” she teased, the words light and teasing, yet there was something comforting in her tone.

Yelena pouted, a playful frown tugging at her lips. “You’re both being very rude,” she muttered, but there was no real bite behind it, just a sense of something genuine forming between them.

Despite the teasing, despite the way they were poking fun at her, Yelena felt something shift inside her. It wasn’t something she was used to, this kind of camaraderie, this lightness but she liked it. For a brief moment, she felt like she could actually relax. Let her guard down just a little.

“Aww, don’t pout, we’re sorry,” Kate said, her voice dripping with sweetness as she leaned forward, her eyes wide and pleading. “Now, ask for some pancakes because I want some, and she won’t just make them for me, pleeeaaseee,” she begged, giving Yelena her best puppy-dog eyes.

Yelena crossed her arms, rolling her eyes. "You are such a child," she muttered, but the corners of her lips twitched upward despite herself.

Kate grinned, not backing down. “You know you can’t resist. Just think, pancakes, fluffy and golden, covered in syrup, and I’ll even let you have the first one. What do you say?” Her voice was practically sing-song, and she bounced slightly in her seat, almost in a little dance of excitement.

Yelena raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a reluctant smirk. "Laura is not your personal pancake slave, Kate. You have two hands, use them."

Laura, who had been silently observing the exchange from behind the counter, shook her head and chuckled to herself. She couldn’t help but enjoy watching Yelena’s battle with Kate’s antics.

Kate leaned in closer, her desperation increasing. “But I don’t want to! Laura makes amazing pancakes! The best! And you—” She paused for effect, putting a hand on Yelena’s arm, “—you are so good at persuading people to do things. Please, Yelena, I’m starving here!”

Yelena scoffed, a slight smile tugging at her lips despite her best effort to look annoyed. “My skills are for important spy work, not pancakes, Kate.”

“But this is important, Yelena!” Kate wailed dramatically. “I’m so hungry, you don’t understand!”

At this point, Laura’s quiet laughter couldn’t be held back anymore. She turned to Yelena, clearly enjoying the show, and said, “Yelena, you have to learn, if Kate wants something, she will usually get it. Just give in.”

Yelena groaned in mock defeat, rubbing her temples. “Fine, fine.” She turned towards Laura with a resigned expression. “Laura, please, can you make Kate pancakes so she shuts up?”

Laura raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Of course I can. Now Kate, stop whining.” She busied herself pulling out ingredients, clearly entertained by the dynamic unfolding before her.

Kate, instantly thrilled by her victory, launched herself at Yelena in a quick, almost startled hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!” she shouted, her voice muffled by Yelena’s shoulder as she practically squeezed the life out of her.

Yelena froze for a moment, stiffening at the unexpected contact. It wasn’t that she minded the hug, it was just...unexpected. A small shiver ran down her spine as she awkwardly patted Kate’s back, trying to placate her. “Get off, Bishop. It’s Laura you should be thanking, not me.”

Kate released her and quickly spun around to thank Laura, but Yelena stayed where she was, feeling her stomach do a small, uncomfortable flip. The brief contact had stirred something inside her, something that felt a little too much for her to ignore. The same feeling that keeps appearing whenever she is around Kate. 

As the conversation shifted and Kate and Laura began talking about something completely unrelated, Yelena sat there for a moment, her eyes slightly unfocused, trying to quell the sudden rush of thoughts swirling in her head. It is nothing. Just the weird feeling of being too close to someone, that’s all. She had been around people her whole life, sure, but something about Kate was different.

Her fingers tapped nervously on the edge of the counter, the rhythmic sound barely cutting through the buzz of her thoughts. She tried to focus, to push away the confusion creeping in from every direction. The pancakes were coming, and she wasn’t about to let a simple hug mess with her focus.

Right? 

Wrong.

The longer she sat there, watching Kate chatter away with Laura, the more she felt something tightening in her chest. It was subtle at first, just a little flutter of unease, but soon it became undeniable. The way Kate’s smile lit up her face, the way she laughed easily, how effortlessly she moved through the space. Yelena couldn’t look away, and the more she tried to shake it off, the more that feeling gnawed at her insides.

She didn’t understand it. Didn’t know what to do with it. But she felt… flustered. Heat was rising in her chest, spreading to her face, almost like a fever. But it wasn’t a fever. Not physically. It was something else. Something she didn’t know how to name, but that made her feel… uncomfortable. Wrong. Weak.

Yelena was lost in her own thoughts, a whirlpool of confusion that pulled her deeper the more she tried to understand what was happening inside her. She didn't understand what she was feeling, or why. She tried to piece it together by going over the last few days. The image of Kate on that rooftop, her hollow eyes, the way she stood so close to the edge, so dangerously close to ending it all. 

Even though Yelena hadn’t really known Kate at the time, there was something inside her, a quiet, inexplicable pull that made her want, no, need, to be near her. That was why she was there, after all. But now, thinking about it, it scared her. It was terrifying to want to be close to someone who, in that moment, had nearly died in the same way Natasha had. Someone who could so easily slip away, leaving her behind…and still could.

That similarity had hit her hard in the moment, but she’d been so focused on Kate, on making sure she didn’t make that jump, that she didn’t let herself process it fully. Now, it was crashing over her, the grief from last night’s quiet in Natasha’s room, the grief that still lingered like a weight on her chest, mixing with the fear of almost losing Kate. It felt like she was drowning. 

But what is this feeling? Yelena couldn’t put a name to it, couldn’t quite grasp what it meant. Her first instinct was to call it fear. The fear that she would lose Kate, just like she’d lost Natasha. But Yelena knew fear. She had felt it, understood it, and this wasn’t fear. This... this was something else. It was warm, like a soft pulse beneath her skin, something that made her stomach flutter, something that felt strange and wrong in its own right. She couldn’t figure it out, couldn’t make sense of it, but what she did know was that she needed to get away from it. She needed to run from this, from everything that was suffocating her, clouding her mind, twisting her thoughts into confusion. The pressure was too much. She just needed to escape.

Yelena stood up abruptly, knocking the chair back with a loud scrape. Her heart was hammering in her chest, the sensation suddenly too much to bear. She didn’t know what to do. She had to move. Leave.

“I, uh... I don’t feel well,” she blurted out, the words tumbling out without any real thought behind them. She almost didn’t recognise the sound of her own voice, too soft, too unsure. She moved quickly, her legs shaky as she rushed toward the door, not sparing Kate or Laura a glance. Not even waiting for a response.

She didn’t even realise that she’d made it back to Natasha’s old room until the door closed behind her. The familiar space, now quiet and still, seemed to settle her, at least physically. The heat in her skin faded, but the confusion didn’t.

Her hands shook slightly as she pressed them against her face, trying to steady herself. She breathed in deeply, trying to rid herself of the tightness in her chest. She exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling up in her throat, a bitterness she couldn’t shake. What the hell is wrong with me?

But it was the not-knowing that hurt the most. She couldn’t even begin to describe what she was feeling. Is this what weakness feels like? She didn’t have the answers, and the uncertainty made her feel even more lost. She wasn’t used to feeling like this. She had trained herself to ignore anything that made her soft. But now? It was all tangled up in her chest, in her stomach, and no amount of training could fix that.

Frustrated with herself and desperate to clear her mind, Yelena knew she needed to stick to her original plan,her run. The run she was meant to be on before everything had been interrupted by breakfast, Kate, and those stupid, confusing feelings that she couldn’t even begin to name. But as much as she told herself to just push through, she couldn’t bring herself to go back downstairs. She wasn’t ready to face Kate again, not yet, not after everything that had happened. Instead, she slipped quietly out of the window, the cool morning air rushing to meet her like an old, familiar friend. She needed the solitude, the space to sort through her thoughts, to put some distance between herself and whatever the hell was going on inside her right now.

She ran, pushing herself harder than usual, the rhythmic pounding of her feet against the earth becoming a way to silence the questions spinning in her mind. The exhaustion in her body felt like relief, each step carrying her farther from the house, from the confusing moment in the kitchen.

Time seemed to stretch. She ran for a while, letting the landscape change as she moved, the soft morning light shifting to brighter afternoon hues. Finally, she came to a clearing, a breathtaking sight that made her pause for a moment. The area was serene, with a small waterfall cascading down the rocks nearby, its sound calming and natural. A little campfire area had been set up ready to be lit, and there was natural cover that offered shelter from the open sky.

Yelena slowed, finally allowing herself a moment to rest. She sank down onto the ground, her body grateful for the brief reprieve as she drew deep, steadying breaths, the weight of her exertion pressing down on her muscles. For a moment, the frantic pace of her thoughts eased, the clarity she’d been craving seeping in. Yet, as her mind quieted, she couldn’t ignore the harsh truth that hung over her, she still had to get back. 

A part of her longed to leave, to return to the world of missions, of saving the widows, where things were simpler. There, she didn’t have to grapple with these strange, unfamiliar feelings that tugged at her chest. The mission was clear, plan, gear up, execute, and move on. There was no space for emotions in that life, no room for complications. 

But then the other part of her, the part that refused to break promises, reminded her that she’d made a vow to Kate. She wasn’t one to go back on her word. So, despite the chaos in her mind, she pushed herself to her feet, her resolve hardening. She wasn’t going to quit, not now, not when she had made a promise. With that, she began to run again, every step taking her further away from doubt, even as her thoughts remained a tangled mess.

----

Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, Kate watched as Yelena quickly exited the room, her departure leaving a confusing silence in her wake. Kate stared after her, unsure of what had just happened. Her thoughts spiralled but nothing made sense. The panic set in quickly, a wave of heat rushing to her face. She dropped her head into her hands, desperate to make sense of it all.

Laura watched the whole thing unfold, a soft, understanding smile playing at the corners of her lips as Kate mentally spiralled. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Laura spoke up, her voice calm and reassuring. “Honey, stop stressing. If she’s anything like Nat, she’ll be triggered by random things, and it’s hard to know what will set her off.”

Kate lifted her head, her mind racing as she processed the words. She looked at Laura, a mixture of frustration and uncertainty on her face. “But if I don’t know what I did, how am I supposed to avoid it next time?” Kate’s voice was almost desperate, the fear of not knowing weighing on her heavily.

Laura shrugged, a knowing look in her eyes. “Look, it takes a long time for a Widow to open up. But, Yelena seems less closed off than Nat was, she will let you in when she is ready.”

Kate nodded slowly, grateful for that small piece of reassurance, but the anxiety still simmered beneath the surface. “I mean, that’s a positive. The thing is, I literally know nothing about her. And she comes, and she saves me, and…”

Before Kate could finish, Laura cut her off, her concern suddenly shifting into something more immediate, more pressing. “Saved you from what? Did someone come after you when you got home? Are you safe? Do we need to send Clint back out there?” Laura’s voice was laced with panic, her questions coming in quick succession as her motherly instinct kicked in.

Kate’s eyes widened in shock. She had assumed Yelena had told Clint what had happened, and that Laura would know, but it was clear she hadn’t. She cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. “Uh… no, no one came after me. I’m safe,” she said, avoiding eye contact, the weight of the truth still sitting uncomfortably in her chest.

Laura looked at her carefully, her concern deepening. “Then what did she save you from?” Her tone was gentle, yet there was something in it that suggested she already had an inkling, even if she didn’t fully know.

Kate sighed heavily, her shoulders sagging with the weight of the confession she knew she needed to make. “I… I was gonna do something dumb,” she said quietly, still avoiding Laura’s gaze. “She was there, and it’s fine now.”

Laura’s expression hardened slightly, her motherly instincts kicking in full force. “Katherine Elizabeth Bishop,” she said, her tone shifting to one Kate knew all too well. “Tell me right now what this ‘dumb’ thing was, because with you, that could literally mean anything.”

Kate winced at her full name, but the words rushed out before she could stop them. “I was gonna jump, okay? From the penthouse roof. It’s why I left Lucky here,” she admitted, her voice cracking as tears began to fall.

The words hit Laura like a physical blow. Her heart shattered for Kate as she pulled the younger woman into a tight hug, wrapping her arms around her in an effort to shield her from everything she had been carrying. Kate just cried, unable to speak, her tears soaking into Laura’s shoulder.

“Oh, honey, why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you talk to me? You know I’m here for you!” Laura’s voice trembled as she held Kate tighter. “I knew it. I told Clint it was strange that you were leaving Lucky here. That you stopped responding to your texts! I told him! I’m so sorry we let you leave. We should never have let you go!”

Laura’s tears fell freely now, her heart aching for Kate. Despite only knowing her for a short time, Laura had come to see Kate as one of her own. The thought of her suffering in silence, of not being able to be there for her tore at Laura’s heart.

Kate clung to Laura, her body trembling as the tears continued to flow, her sobs raw and unrestrained. “I’m sorry,” she wailed, her voice choked with emotion. “I just... I couldn’t take it anymore, Laura.” Her heart pounded in her chest, every sob a painful reminder of how close she had come to ending it all. The weight of everything she had kept hidden felt like it was finally being released, but it didn’t make the pain any easier to bear.

For a moment, Laura held her tighter, her own tears falling as she whispered comforting words, but then a noise from upstairs broke the moment. It was faint, but unmistakable, someone else was awake. Kate’s head snapped up at the sound, and she glanced at the clock on the wall. It was now 6:30 a.m., and she knew that Clint and the others would likely be up soon. The thought of facing them, of pretending everything was okay, made her stomach twist. She had spent the morning pushing everything down, hiding behind her jokes, and her well-crafted persona, but after admitting what happened to Laura she couldn’t fact it, so like Yelena, she ran. 

She quickly pulled away from Laura, wiping frantically at her face, trying to get a grip on herself. “I’m gonna go shower,” she said, her voice shaky but determined. She turned and moved swiftly towards the door, not waiting for a response.

“Kate!” Laura called after her, but Kate didn’t stop. She couldn’t. She couldn’t face anyone right now, not when everything inside her felt like it was falling apart.

Before Laura could say another word, Kate was already gone, her footsteps echoing in the hallway as she fled the room, the weight of everything she had just shared still pressing on her chest.

Kate silently thanked whatever god was looking out for her that Clint had made every room in the house with its own ensuite. The small blessing was the only thing that kept her going as she stood under the shower. The soothing rhythm of the water did nothing to help; her mood had crashed harder than she ever expected. 

The fleeting peace she'd felt earlier was now gone, replaced by a heaviness that clung to her chest. She felt drained, broken, as though the weight of everything she’d been carrying had suddenly caught up with her. She wanted to go back to bed, bury herself under the covers, and never face another day, but she knew that wasn’t an option.

She dragged herself out of the shower, barely registering the movements as she changed into comfortable clothes. She collapsed onto the bed, hoping sleep would come and offer her an escape, but her mind wouldn’t stop racing. The thoughts swirled around her head like a whirlpool, and no matter how hard she tried to push them away, one name kept resurfacing: Yelena.

She must have lay there for over an hour, staring at the ceiling, wrestling with herself until she finally gave up. With a sigh, she got up, her feet carrying her upstairs, toward the floor where Yelena was staying. She wasn’t sure what she was hoping for, but her gut told her she couldn’t just leave things the way they were.

Kate knocked softly at Yelena’s door, the sound tentative but full of hope, waiting for some response, any response but there was nothing. Just silence. It was unnerving, an oppressive quietness that seemed to settle into her chest, making her feel as though she was suffocating. She pressed her ear to the door, but there was no sound. Nothing to tell her that Yelena was even there.

“Yelena, please speak to me,” Kate said, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with desperation. She knocked again, louder this time, hoping to break the stillness. Still, there was nothing. Not a creak of movement, not a rustle of fabric, nothing.

Her frustration built, like an insistent pressure in her chest. “I’m gonna come in if you don’t respond this time,” she said, her voice firm but still trembling at the edges, betraying the worry that had taken root in her. She knocked again, her knuckles sounding too loud in the stillness of the hallway. No answer.

With a sigh, Kate’s patience slipped away, replaced by fear and an overwhelming sense of helplessness. She didn’t wait any longer. Taking a deep breath, her hand reached for the doorknob, gripping it with a mixture of hope and dread. She turned it slowly, the faint click of the door echoing in her ears as her heart began to race.

The door opened, and Kate stepped inside, her breath catching in her throat when she saw the empty room. A cold rush of panic flooded through her, the room felt wrong, empty in a way that sent a chill down her spine. There was no sign of Yelena. But then, her eyes landed on the open window, the sight so jarring, her chest constricting.

Her heart pounded in her ears, her body frozen in place for a moment, as if the world had just tilted on its axis. The feeling of being abandoned, of being left alone, crashed down on her with brutal force. Her breath hitched in her throat as the tears she had been holding back started to fall, her knees buckling beneath her as the overwhelming pain of loss consumed her.

She left me.

The thought echoed in her head, over and over, relentless. Yelena had promised, promised she wouldn’t leave, and yet here she was… gone. The one person who had made her feel like she wasn’t invisible, who had kept her grounded, had disappeared without a word. The ache in her chest grew, a suffocating weight that threatened to swallow her whole.

Kate collapsed to the floor, her sobs shaking her entire body, her chest tightening as the tears poured uncontrollably. She wept with the rawness of someone who had just been torn apart. She cried until her body could no longer keep up, until exhaustion robbed her of the energy to do anything but surrender to the numbness. The tears slowed, and in the eerie quiet that followed, Kate curled up on the cold floor as sleep claimed her.

Outside, Yelena moved like a shadow, silently making her way back to the house. She climbed the side of the building with practised ease, her mind still swirling with confusion and emotions she couldn’t comprehend. She had gone for a run, a desperate attempt to escape the storm inside her, but now, something felt wrong. She could feel it.

Slipping back through the window she had left from earlier, Yelena’s heart stopped when she saw Kate. Her form was crumpled on the floor, curled in on herself like she was trying to make herself smaller, her face a swollen mess of sorrow. Dry tear tracks stained her cheeks, the evidence of the pain she was carrying. The sight of her like that shattered Yelena’s heart, the weight of helplessness pressing down on her chest like a vice. 

Without a second thought, Yelena rushed to Kate’s side, her hands trembling as she gently lifted her into her arms. “Kate? Kate?” she called out, her voice laced with panic. She held Kate close, trying to steady herself as much as she was trying to steady Kate, her heartbeat erratic in her chest.

Kate blinked slowly, her eyes struggling to focus, the fog of sleep and pain clouding her vision. It took a moment before she recognised Yelena, her voice barely a whisper. “Lena?” she asked, thick with tears and confusion, her voice cracked and hoarse.

Yelena’s chest tightened at the new nickname, but the worry in her eyes took over any other feeling. “Kate, what happened? Why did you cry? Why are you on the floor?” Her voice was soft now, a whisper of concern as she gently ran her hand through Kate’s tangled hair.

Kate’s tears flowed again. “You left... you promised you wouldn’t,” she sobbed, her body trembling violently against Yelena’s chest, the words breaking her heart into pieces.

Yelena felt her heart splinter at the sound of Kate’s pain. Her own voice cracked as she whispered, “I went for a run,” her words tinged with guilt. “I told you I am not leaving, Kate”. She tightened her hold on Kate, as though the simple act of holding her would shield Kate from the fear, the confusion, the hurt that was flooding both of them. “I’m here,” Yelena continued, her voice shaking. “I’m not going anywhere. I swear.”

Kate’s sobs only intensified, and Yelena could feel her heart breaking even further. The vulnerability in Kate’s voice, the hurt, was almost too much to bear. Yelena held her even tighter, trying to offer what little comfort she could. “I made a promise, and I intend to keep it, Kate Bishop,” she said softly, leaning down to kiss the side of Kate’s head.

It was an instinctual move, one Yelena didn’t think about before doing it. The warmth of the gesture didn’t make her panic as she expected. Instead, something inside her softened, a quiet peace flowing through her, and she was surprised at how right it felt.

Kate didn’t react immediately, but she did snuggle closer, her body seeking warmth and reassurance. Yelena didn’t pull away, letting Kate come to her in the way she needed. After a moment, Kate spoke, her voice trembling. “I saw the window... I thought... thought you left. What did I do wrong, Lena?”

Yelena was taken aback, the words catching in her throat. She didn’t know how to answer, how to make this better. All she could say was, “You did nothing wrong.” Her words were simple but heavy with sincerity.

“Then why did you leave?” Kate asked, the vulnerability in her voice almost too much for Yelena to handle.

Yelena closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “I... I don’t know. I just... felt odd…I am not used to feeling….well anything…I needed space,” she admitted, her voice small, the words tasting strange as they left her mouth.

Kate looked up at her, her expression soft, genuine. “Well, what got you feeling odd? Is it something I did? Is there something I can do to avoid that in the future?”

Yelena shook her head, her smile small but warm. “You are too kind for your own good, Little Hawk. It was nothing, please stop worrying, okay?” she said gently, brushing a strand of hair from Kate’s forehead.

Kate smiled, a teasing glint returning to her eyes. “Little Hawk?” she asked, the words almost a playful challenge.

Yelena blushed slightly, trying to play it off, her voice nonchalant. “Mhm, you’re the baby Hawkeye, no? Little Hawk sounds better,” she said, though the softness in her tone betrayed her.

Kate laughed, a soft huff of amusement escaping her lips. “I will have you know, I’m just Hawkeye. He gave me the name fair and square,” she said, her voice a mix of pride and teasing.

Yelena chuckled, shaking her head. “Maybe so, and to everyone else, you can be Hawkeye, but you’re Little Hawk to me. Deal?” she said before she even realised what she had said.

Kate blinked, the words lingering in the air, and for a brief moment, neither of them spoke. Then, Kate’s smile softened, the playful teasing fading into something warmer. “Deal,” she said, her voice steady and sure, but with a quiet understanding that hung between them.

They sat there on the floor in silence, the weight of the moment hanging between them. Kate had nestled herself against Yelena, her body curled up on top of hers, resting against her chest. For a long time, neither of them said anything, just the sound of steady breathing filling the space, as though neither of them wanted to break the fragile comfort that had settled around them. Yelena could feel Kate’s warmth against her, the soft rhythm of her breath, and it made her heart ache in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

Finally, Yelena broke the silence, her voice gentle but with a hint of teasing. “Come on, Bishop. This floor is not comfortable,” she said, shifting slightly as she began to nudge Kate upwards.

Kate huffed, clearly not eager to move, but she couldn’t help the small grin that tugged at her lips. “I mean, I was comfortable,” she grumbled, but despite her protests, she shifted herself off Yelena’s chest.

Yelena couldn’t help but chuckle softly. “I’m sorry to ruin your comfort, Your Majesty, but there are perfectly good beds to sleep in.” She gestured offhandedly towards her own bed, her tone light, but there was something unspoken in the way she said it, as though the suggestion lingered in the air longer than necessary.

Kate smirked, her eyes narrowing with playful curiosity. “Are you offering to sleep with me, Miss Belova?” she teased, her voice laced with mock innocence.

Yelena laughed, the sound bubbling out of her more freely than she had expected. “You wish,” she replied, a wink escaping her lips before she could stop herself. But even as she said it, her body betrayed her. She felt a warmth spread across her chest at the thought, a fleeting surge of heat that she quickly pushed down. 

Kate, however, seemed oblivious to the way her words had made Yelena’s pulse quicken. She just chuckled, an easy smile on her face, and got to her feet. Yelena watched her, trying to pretend that the heat in her cheeks wasn’t noticeable, trying to focus on the easy banter between them instead of the strange fluttering feeling that still lingered in her chest.

---

Rather than actually going to bed, they both made their way downstairs. By now, it was already nearly noon, and breakfast had long passed. The kids were still home, enjoying their holiday break from school, Nathaniel, Lila, and Cooper were sprawled out in the living room, their attention fully absorbed in a game of Mario Kart on the Switch. Clint and Laura were sitting at the kitchen island, watching the kids with relaxed expressions, enjoying the chaos of it all. The open-plan layout of the house allowed them to keep an eye on everything from their spot at the counter, and the casual hum of family life filled the space.

Kate and Yelena moved past the kids, Kate's need for a coffee driving them towards the kitchen. She was running on fumes, emotionally and physically drained, and the only thing that could help her function right now was the promise of something warm and caffeinated.

As they entered the kitchen, Laura and Clint looked up, greeting them with friendly smiles. Clint’s gaze lingered on Kate for a moment longer than necessary, and she felt a small pang in her chest. He gave her a look, one that was full of understanding, of quiet concern. It was a look that told her he knew something had been wrong, knew that she had been crying.

Kate quickly shifted her gaze to Laura, and the brief exchange between them was enough to reassure Kate. Laura gave a subtle shake of her head, her silent message clear: I haven’t told Clint anything yet.

Kate exhaled quietly, relieved, but she wasn’t sure why. There was no reason to hide it from Clint, but for some reason, she wasn’t ready for him to know. Not yet.

Clint broke the silence with a casual smile, leaning back slightly. “What’s up, kiddo?” His voice was light, but his eyes narrowed slightly as he observed the subtle back-and-forth between Kate and Laura.

Kate shrugged, trying to mask the rawness in her voice with a playful tone. “Uh, not much, old man. How’s your morning?” She smiled at him, the hoarseness of her voice still betraying her, but the light in her eyes was back, brighter than before. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

“All good!” Clint said with a lighthearted smile, but he lingered on Kate, his gaze softening with concern. “Did you sleep well? How are the nightmares?” he asked gently, his voice quieter now, as though he was trying to navigate around something delicate.

For fuck’s sake, Kate thought to herself. She had purposefully lied to Yelena, telling her she didn’t have nightmares so that Yelena wouldn’t think she was weak. And now Clint had just exposed her secret, pulling it out into the open without warning.

“Nightmares, Kate Bishop?” Yelena’s voice cut through the moment, her eyebrow raised as she shot Kate a knowing look. “What happened to you not having them?” she teased because of course Yelena would call her out like that.

Kate couldn’t meet her gaze, feeling her face flush with embarrassment. “I… uh… fine. Yes, I have them,” she mumbled, her voice dropping. “I just didn’t want you to think I was weak or childish or whatever.”

Yelena’s eyes softened slightly, but she didn’t back away from her teasing. “You are not the only one who has nightmares, Kate,” she said, her tone unreadable. Kate wasn’t sure if that was a hint that Yelena had them too, or if she was simply trying to comfort her, trying to make her feel less alone in it.

Clint chimed in, his voice steady, the concern still present but softened by the years of experience in this family. “Exactly, kiddo. No need to be embarrassed.”

Kate huffed, feeling the heat in her cheeks. She shrugged it off, trying to downplay the vulnerability that still hung in the air. “Yeah, whatever. I had a nightmare, but I got up and Laura was awake, and we had coffee, and it was fine,” she said, her tone dismissive but with a touch of forced lightness.

“Laura is the best at comforting after nightmares,” Clint said with a proud smile, his eyes shining as he looked over at his wife.

Laura smiled back, the easy warmth in her expression unmistakable. “Had a lot of practice. Between you, Nat, and the kids? It was pretty much never-ending,” she joked lightly, her voice full of affection.

But Yelena’s attention snapped to her at that. “Natasha had nightmares?” she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, the question more vulnerable than she intended. This was yet another thing about her sister that she didn't know and that hurt more than she could even explain. 

Clint nodded, his face softening as he glanced at Yelena. “When she first got out of the Red Room, the nightmares were bad, yeah. She would scream, cry, sometimes even wake up not knowing where she was.” He took a slow breath, his gaze flicking to Yelena, almost as if he was reading her. “But it got better over time. I know she still had them from time to time, even later on, but she wasn’t plagued by them like she was.”

Yelena nodded, her face carefully controlled, but something flickered in her eyes, something Kate couldn’t quite place. Kate glanced at her, trying to read the expression on her face, but it was no use. Yelena’s mask was firmly in place.

“Well, I hope mine go away,” Kate said, her voice a little shakier than she intended as she tried to lighten the mood. “Being afraid to sleep isn’t fun. I’m fucking tired,” she added with a half-laugh, hoping the joke would ease the tension, even if just a little.

Her attempt to deflect with humour wasn’t completely successful, but at least it gave the conversation a shift. Everyone in the room seemed to understand her need to downplay it, even if it was clear the subject still weighed heavily on her.

Kate and Yelena spent the rest of the afternoon talking with Clint and Laura, the conversation shifting between lighter topics as everyone tried to get to know Yelena better. Yelena, though still unsure about who she truly was, did her best to answer their questions honestly, even when the answers didn’t come easily. The more they spoke, the more questions shifted to others, and Yelena found herself learning about Kate in return. She loved hearing the stories, the little details about Kate’s life, and it seemed Kate enjoyed sharing them just as much.

Kate’s smile slowly returned, her usual spark reigniting, as if the weight she had been carrying had finally lifted, even if just for a little while. Her energy was higher now, brighter, and she seemed more like herself, relaxed, happy, content. The warmth was back in her eyes, and there was a playful glint to her that had been absent earlier. She wasn’t carrying the same heaviness anymore, at least not in this moment.

Yelena, for her part, seemed to have pushed aside whatever internal turmoil she was dealing with, choosing to ignore it in favour of the back-and-forth banter she had with Kate. They fell back into their usual rhythm, teasing each other, making jokes. Yelena frequently took jabs at Clint, who would roll his eyes in mock indignation, but Kate would howl with laughter at each one, even if the joke was borderline ridiculous. Yelena’s deadpan delivery only made it more amusing to her.

Laura watched the two of them, her expression a mixture of amusement and knowing. There was a subtle, unspoken connection between Kate and Yelena, something that seemed to pulse between them every time their eyes met. Every so often, they would get lost in one another, their focus drifting, as if the rest of the world faded away for just a second. Then, as if snapped back to reality, they would redirect their attention to Clint and Laura, but the undercurrent of something deeper still lingered in the air, unnoticed by either of them.

Laura raised an eyebrow as she glanced between them, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She had seen this before, this quiet, budding connection and she wasn’t blind to the way the two of them seemed to fit together, even if neither of them had fully realised it yet.

---

The hours passed quickly, and before long, dinner was served. Afterwards, Lila insisted that Kate take her outside to practice archery. Kate agreed eagerly, happy to have something active to focus on. Clint joined them, and the three of them, with Lucky tagging along to chase after the arrows, headed outside, the excitement palpable. Nathaniel and Cooper, however, were content to return to their video games, leaving the rest of the house filled with a more peaceful energy.

But Laura had other plans. With a quiet purpose behind her calm demeanour, she pulled Yelena aside, her smile warm but with an edge of something unreadable. "Can we speak?" she asked, her voice soft but firm.

Yelena's heart skipped a beat. Her mind raced, trying to figure out what this conversation could be about. There was a hint of unease that she couldn't shake, a flutter in her chest that she couldn't quite place. She schooled her expression, hiding the rush of emotions threatening to show. With a stiff nod, she followed Laura into the next room, her footsteps more hesitant than she cared to admit.

"What's up?" Yelena asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but her gaze lingered on Laura’s for a moment longer than she intended, a silent challenge hiding in the depths of her eyes.

Laura didn’t answer right away. She simply smiled, that soft, knowing smile that always made Yelena feel like she was being seen in ways she wasn’t prepared for. "Nothing’s up, honey," Laura replied, her voice smooth, but with a quiet weight beneath it. "I just thought we could have a little chat."

Yelena's pulse quickened, but she didn't show it. Instead, she watched as Laura moved toward a cabinet, opening it with the ease of someone who had done this a thousand times. Laura pulled out a bottle of fancy Russian vodka, the label nearly identical to the ones Yelena had seen back home. She poured two glasses with a practised hand, the liquid glinting in the soft light.

Yelena raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued, and a tiny knot of anxiety settled in her stomach. "Why are you trying to get me drunk, Mama Barton?" she teased, her voice light, but the undercurrent of tension was still there, no matter how much she tried to mask it. The nickname had started as a tease earlier in the day but it felt right, and Laura seemed to like it too, so it stuck. But right now, Yelena wasn’t sure how much of this conversation was lighthearted and how much of it was serious.

Laura chuckled, the sound airy and warm. "I’m not trying to get you drunk, I just thought it might help with the next question I’m going to ask." Her smile widened, her eyes sparkling with a glint that sent an unexpected shiver down Yelena’s spine. There was something else there, something that made Yelena instinctively brace herself.

She didn’t have time to respond before Laura handed her the drink, and she threw it back in one go, bracing herself for whatever was coming next. She took a breath once she had swallowed before muttering, "go on…" her voice steady but betraying the nerves she was trying to mask.

Laura chuckled softly, mirroring Yelena's movements as she took a sip from her glass, the familiar warmth of the vodka momentarily grounding them both. But then, just as quickly, the atmosphere shifted. The smile remained on Laura’s lips, but something more serious crept into her gaze, a quiet intensity that immediately put Yelena on edge.

"Do you have feelings for Kate?" Laura’s question hung in the air like an anchor, settling heavily between them, demanding an answer that Yelena wasn’t ready to give.

Yelena froze, the glass almost slipping from her hand as Laura’s words slammed into her with the force of a punch. It was like the room around her tilted, spinning out of control, the air thick with the weight of her unspoken thoughts. Her mind went blank for a moment, scrambling to latch onto something, anything, to say in response. She wanted to say something, anything, but all she could do was stare at Laura, her heart pounding in her chest.

Do I have feelings for Kate? The thought hit her like a tonne of bricks. She certainly felt something when she was around Kate, the ache in her chest, the flutter in her stomach, the warmth that spread through her veins whenever their eyes met. But were those the feelings?

No. Those kinds of feelings had been trained out of her, buried deep in the dark corners of her mind. Widows weren’t allowed to feel, to love. They couldn’t form bonds, not in the way others could. Those things were weaknesses, things that could get you killed. Love was a distant memory, something that felt like a story told by someone else.

Or was it?

The question lingered, refusing to be shaken off. Could I have feelings for Kate? Could a widow feel something like love? All those moments, the worry, the care, the protectiveness, the way her heart twisted whenever Kate was in pain. It made sense, the strange pull she felt, the desire to be near Kate, to be part of her life. The doubt gnawed at her, the uncertainty curling up inside her like a snake in the grass. She wasn’t sure if she was afraid of the answer or afraid of what it might mean.

But the silence between them stretched on, and Laura was waiting, watching her closely, her expression soft but expectant. Yelena’s mind raced, but her mouth couldn’t form the words. She wasn’t sure she was ready to face what that answer might be.

"I... uh... no, what makes you think that?" Yelena stuttered out, the words tumbling from her mouth in a way that felt utterly foreign to her, like she was suddenly stripped of the composure that had always come so easily.

Laura smiled knowingly, a gentle curve to her lips, as if she’d been waiting for this moment all along. "Well, first you spend days going to her penthouse to find her. Then, when you do, you save her from... well, you know," she said, her voice soft, but with an underlying weight to it. She paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts before continuing, her eyes never leaving Yelena. "Then you go out of your way to come here, and I know that was big for you. And finally, I see you, sneaking glances, your eyes warming from that cold stare you put on, softening when you look at her. There is something, Yelena. I know there is."

Despite the warmth that seemed to burn in her chest whenever Kate was near, and the copious evidence that she did in fact feel for Kate, Yelena forced herself to suppress it. 

"No, Laura," she said firmly, her voice surprisingly steady. The words felt wrong on her tongue, but she forced them out, determined to convince herself. "I am incapable of those sorts of feelings. They were trained out of us. She is my friend."

The words came out with more conviction than she felt, a defence mechanism, but even as she said them, a part of her, a small, oh-so-frightened part questioned whether she was lying to herself. 

Laura smiled softly, her eyes filled with something akin to wistfulness. “Wow, every time you speak, you’re more and more like Nat. I know you two weren’t blood, but you’re definitely sisters,” she said with a warmth in her voice that Yelena wasn’t used to hearing.

Yelena looked at her, confused. “What do you mean?” she asked, her tone uncertain, the words hanging between them like an unfamiliar weight.

Laura sighed, her smile fading as she leaned back slightly, her posture shifting, as though the weight of the words she was about to say was heavy on her shoulders. She stared ahead for a moment, taking a deep breath before speaking, as though gathering herself. "Well, Natasha..." She paused, her voice softening, taking on a reflective tone. "She loved someone. A woman named Wanda."

There was a faint tremor in Laura's voice as she spoke the name, as though the memory of it pained her. "Wanda definitely felt the same, at least at first," she continued, her words deliberate, but her eyes now glistening with the remnants of old memories. She swallowed before pushing forward, the story spilling out even though it clearly hurt. "But Nat convinced herself for so long that it wasn’t love. She told herself it was just admiration for Wanda’s power, that it was... just friendship." Laura let out a shaky breath, her hand brushing her forehead as she tried to steady herself.

Her gaze shifted, focusing on Yelena, and her expression softened with understanding. "Like you, Yelena. She thought she was incapable of love, romance, of anything like that." There was a quiet sadness in her eyes as she spoke, and her voice cracked with the weight of knowing Natasha’s struggle. "But when she finally realised the truth, it was way too late."

Yelena froze. This was yet another thing that she did not know about her sister. The more she learned the more she realised she had known so little about her sister, so little about the life she had led before she died for her. She wished she had known more, had the time to ask the right questions. She wished she could have understood her better.

“What happened? Why was it too late?” Yelena asked, her voice thick with emotion, the pain she felt in the moment almost too much to bear.

Laura took a slow breath, her eyes misting as she recalled the painful memory. “It was years, Yelena. Wanda moved on. The Avengers split up, and Wanda went with Vision. By the time they finally saw each other again, Nat was determined to tell her the truth, to admit it all. But then Wanda was blipped…” Laura paused, her throat tightening as she fought to hold back the tears. “And then, of course, to bring all of us who were blipped back, Natasha died. She never got the chance.”

Yelena stood there, her chest tight with grief and the weight of the information she had just learned. Natasha had died with that regret, with that unspoken truth between her and Wanda. She didn’t get to fix it. Yelena’s eyes burned as the tears threatened to spill, but she held them back, forcing her voice to stay steady, though it cracked when she spoke.

“I hate her,” Yelena whispered, her voice barely audible. “I hate her for being so selfish, for leaving us all. But I love her for being so brave. I wish she didn’t have to die for us.”

A single tear slid down Yelena’s cheek, the weight of it impossible to stop. She had lost Natasha, and now she was realising how much she had never known about her, how much she would never get the chance to understand. The loss, the regret, the missed moments, it was all too much to carry in this moment.

“Oh, honey, I know,” Laura said, her voice thick with her own sorrow. “I feel the same. She was my best friend.” Laura’s tone softened as she reached out, her hand gently resting on Yelena’s arm. “But you need to take her mistake and learn from it, Yelena. Don’t hide from it. Let yourself feel. Go with it. Because the Red Room didn’t take that away from you, and you don’t want it to end up too late, okay?”

Yelena looked at Laura, her chest tightening as the weight of her emotions pressed down on her. For a moment, she was frozen, the rawness of it all making it hard to breathe. The tears she’d been fighting began to spill, but this time she didn’t try to hold them back. She let them fall, her body trembling with the release. Laura’s words settled in her heart, their impact subtle yet profound. 

“I don’t even know where to start, Laura,” Yelena admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, thick with emotion. Her words felt heavy as they left her lips, the fear and uncertainty that had been growing inside of her now spilling out. She was used to being strong, composed, detached, but here, in this moment, she didn’t know how to be any of that.

Laura nodded, her eyes softening as she listened. “Honestly, just be there. From what I can see, Kate feels the same, but with her current mental state… I don’t actually know what’s going through her mind,” Laura confessed, her voice quiet, almost like she was thinking aloud.

Yelena felt a pang of something unfamiliar at Laura’s words. The idea that Kate might feel the same, that there was a chance of something more between them was both a comfort and a terror. Yelena had built walls so high she didn’t know how to let them down. But with Kate? There was a pull she couldn’t ignore, a need to be close, to protect her, to be part of her life in a way that went beyond anything she understood.

"I don’t think I’m right for her, not in that way, for sure," Yelena said, her voice shaking with uncertainty. "We’re not even there yet, and I made her cry earlier…" Her words were barely a whisper, filled with self-doubt. The thought of hurting Kate, of making her feel alone again, twisted something deep inside Yelena.

“Why? What did you do?” Laura’s voice was a little sterner this time, the concern in her eyes shifting to something more protective, but still, there was an understanding there.

Yelena flinched slightly at the sharpness in Laura’s voice, but the guilt she felt was enough to make her answer. “She must’ve come to find me after I left the kitchen. But I had gone for a run… I came back, and she was curled up on Natasha’s floor, asleep, but she’d been crying,” Yelena said, her voice breaking on the last words. She hated that she had hurt Kate, hated that she hadn’t been there when Kate needed her.

Laura’s expression softened immediately. She didn’t say anything for a moment, just absorbed what Yelena had said, her gaze understanding yet full of concern. “She was upset you left?” she asked, her voice gentle.

Yelena nodded, her throat tight as the weight of the situation pressed down on her. “She said I promised I wouldn’t leave, and I did,” Yelena admitted, the words tasting bitter in her mouth. The promise she’d made, the one she hadn’t kept, echoed in her mind like a constant reminder of how fragile this all was.

“Well, that tells me she wants you around," Laura said, her tone lightening slightly, but there was something deeper in her words. "She feels safe and happy with you. I don’t think that’s a reason to not try this,” she said gently, her eyes filled with a quiet hope.

Yelena’s breath hitched in her chest as she let out a long, heavy sigh. The weight of everything she had been feeling was suffocating, and it was like her chest couldn’t handle it anymore. The uncertainty, the fear, the confusion, it was all tangled together in a knot that she couldn’t untangle. She was scared, the fear of not knowing how to navigate something so foreign to her, something so vulnerable.

“I don’t want to make her worse,” Yelena whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. She swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her own words as they hung in the air, raw and unfiltered. “I don’t know how to do relationships... I don’t even understand my feelings, not until you said what it was, and then it just clicked. I hadn’t even figured it out before that. I’ve been trying to understand it... That’s why I had to run earlier.”

Her words felt like they left her body in a rush, as though once she started, she couldn’t stop herself. She wasn’t used to being so vulnerable, but something about being here, with Laura, made her feel like she could finally let her guard down. It was unsettling in a way, but there was a deep sense of safety in it too.

Laura stayed quiet for a moment, watching Yelena carefully. She could see the cracks in her usual armour, the way her eyes flickered with something vulnerable that Yelena wasn’t used to showing.

Finally, Laura spoke, her voice gentle but firm, the kind of calm assurance that could steady anyone in the midst of their storm. “Yelena, it’s okay to be scared,” she said, her eyes soft with understanding. “None of us have all the answers. You don’t have to figure everything out right now. You’ve been through things that most people could never imagine, and it’s okay if you don’t have all the pieces to this puzzle yet.”

She took a step closer, her expression warm and unwavering. “But not everyone has a bond as easy as you and Kate. That connection between you two? It was practically formed in minutes. Please, for the love of God, just try. And if it fails, you let me know, and we’ll look after you both. Deal?”

Yelena looked at her, her heart thumping in her chest. There was a quiet understanding between them now, one that felt fragile but real. Laura wasn’t asking for perfection, just for Yelena to try, to take a chance on something that could make such a huge difference. The pressure in her chest eased slightly, but the uncertainty still lingered.

Yelena smiled faintly, feeling a warmth she hadn’t allowed herself to feel ever. “Deal,” she said, her voice steady even if her heart was still a bit uncertain. The promise felt small, but in that moment, it was enough.

---

Well! They’re so painfully clueless it’s almost embarrassing, but hey, we’ve finally got some kindling on that slow burn huh?

In the next chapter, Yelena might finally make her move, with a little help from Mama Barton, of course. There will be some conversations, and who knows? The fire could finally start burning...just a little.

Part 3 will be linked here when posted.