Yeliza Is 120 Years Old Please Stop Asking Her If She Has Rizz

*   ━━━━━━━━━━━━ @freakarus: Send me a 🚶 and I’ll introduce you to an NPC in my muse’s life.

Yelizavetas' Husband: Bucky Barnes of Earth: 982

Yeliza’s Bucky wasn’t built for the world that came after. He wasn’t a soldier. He never held a rifle in some muddy trench. He never got stitched into history with blood. In her universe, he was just a boy who grew up in Brooklyn in the eighties, soft around the edges, stubborn where it mattered. The kind of kid who stayed up too late reading sci-fi books and dreaming about other galaxies instead of wars. Before the world fell apart, he taught astrophysics at the university — filled lecture halls with stories about black holes and collapsing stars, about the universe folding in on itself like paper. He loved it. Loved learning, loved teaching. Loved imagining something bigger than all of this.

He wasn't supposed to survive an apocalypse. But he tried anyway.

When the sky turned black and the cities burned, he held onto Yeliza like a lifeline. Held onto Mila even tighter. He wasn't a fighter, but he fought anyway — not because he was good at it, but because there was no other choice. He taught Mila the names of the stars even when the smoke covered the sky. Told her they were still up there, still burning, even when they couldn’t see them.

He died the same way he lived — trying to protect the people he loved. Yeliza never blamed him. He wasn’t meant to be a weapon. He was meant to be a teacher, a father, a man who kept the memory of the stars alive even after the world forgot them.

The person I reblogged this from is awesome as fuck.

please consider yeliza kissing your muse 👀👉👈

yeliza: yeah ... sex is cool, but have you ever fucked the system ???

In and out of stasis until she was 21. Between helping train widows in the red room and her own assignments/assassinations and upgrades. Really does something to a girl.

I often think about how the KGB controlled Eliza, and it wasn’t easy. She was dangerous even when she was young — incredibly smart && unpredictable if they didn’t keep her in check. So, they put an inhibitor in the base of her spine, hidden so deep you’d need surgery to even find it. If she ever tried to mess with it, it would hit her with electric shocks bad enough to drop her instantly.

And that still wasn’t enough for them. When they sent her out on missions, she wore a stealth suit — all tactical and black, with a mask akin to the winter soldier’s. But the real kicker was the earpiece within the mask. they built in a micro sonic cannon, and if she ever disobeyed, they could trigger it remotely and knock her out before she even knew what was happening.

but the thing is, she didn’t often need controlling. Eliza grew up inside four walls. She was trained to be loyal to Russia before she even knew what loyalty meant. These were more precautions a means to control the beast within.

A KISS TO THE TEMPLE, FAMILIAR AND GENTLE; practiced she doesn’t lean into it. Doesn’t soften. Just sits there — spine straight, eyes fixed on the page in front of her, slender fingers hover near the corner, unmoving. Not flipping the page. Not yet.

“ You cancelled without asking me. ” not an accusation — a notation. Voice flat. Cool. Observational. Like she’s logging the moment for later dissection. Like she’s been logging a lot of things lately.

Chin lifts slow as brow arches in that way that says she’s already caught the shift and she’s just waiting to see if he’s going to lie about it.

“ thought we didn’t change plans. Not unless there was a reason. ”

Her gaze drops — not to his face, but to his hands. Just his hands. The way they move over the desk — too smooth. Too deliberate. Like choreography, not habit. Silence stretches in the space between them. She lets it. Lets it breathe. Sees how he fills it.

“ you cooking for me, or keeping me inside ?? ” A thread pulled — light on the surface, but the weight is there. Tucked just beneath the delivery. Not a joke. Not really. Just testing the water for cracks in the reflection.

Her fingers drum once — just once — against the side of her leg. A quiet slip. The kind of tell she’d normally scold herself for. Sharp inhale, composure rethreaded, neat and sharp.

Then, softer than the rest, like it wasn’t meant to cut but it still might, “ ... you always move like that when you’re lying ”

smiles and footsteps alike are another part of the new batch of things to be choreographed around james's wife. he cranes his head down as he stands behind her chair , hand resting just at the crook of her neck as he presses a kiss to her temple. soft. from here he can sense the air of suspicion that has only grown stronger since he'd returned from the inner circle.

“ you hurt me , “ a teasing lilt juxtaposes the sharpness of her own blade. he pulls away and circles her chair to face her now , resting his weight against the desk. eyes flicker , scan , over open folders. names. dates. recent whereabouts. one hand closes a folder , nudging it neatly into a stack of papers opposite him. “ i know it's sunday — our day — but i was thinking we could stay in tonight , let me cook dinner for us. “ words leave evenly as he casts a sideglance to may as if to watch her reaction.

but that was the catch , wasn't it ? that she could just as easily read james as he could read her. “ i cancelled our dance date with tom an‘ louise. promised them a raincheck an‘ a drink. “

ALIEN: ROMULUS fede alvarez, 2024

KILLING EVE (2018) — “I’ll Deal With Him Later” (S01E02)