LEANING BACK AGAINST THE KITCHEN COUNTER; Elbows Resting Behind Her. Posture Relaxes But Only A Little.

@strcys liked this for a small thing

                       “    what   makes   you   think    i   have   any   knowledge   of   his    current    whereabouts   ??   but   be   my   guest.   ” brows furrow as she leans back into her seat as green eyes watch the other.

Jodie Comer being photographed for Variety (September 2019)

hello everyone !! it's been so nice to be welcomed back so. warmly. While I work on updating Eliza's blog here are just some key points for now:

Origins & Backstory

Created in Soviet labs underground Russia during the 1980s as part of a KGB experiment.

Infused with a symbiote organism, she is a symbiote-hybrid.

Originally trained and used as a spy and assassin for the Soviet Union.

Accidentally triggered a symbiote apocalypse during her teenage years, leading to the collapse of her original world.

During the apocalypse, she fell in love with her worlds Bucky Barnes, and the two had a daughter together.

Bucky and their daughter eventually died during a raid.

Over 90 years of survival, she engineered a dimension-hopping device to escape her ruined reality.

Abilities:

Shapeshifting thanks to her symbiote Eliza can alter appearance, form weapons, mimic others.

Bulletproof and stab-proof — her symbiote forms a protective armour layer.

Skilled marksmanship - prefers to use guns over her symbiote

Possesses enhanced strength, speed, reflexes, and endurance.

Can regenerate from injuries at an accelerated rate.

Does not age like a normal human, giving her near-immortality.

Current Mission

Uses her gadget to travel between universes, hunting down symbiote experiments the government has hidden.

Her goal is to eliminate threats before another apocalypse can begin in another reality.

Often works alone, operating in the shadows, sometimes collaborating when a mission demands it.

「   RP MEME :  RANDOM DIALOGUE 2.0   」     * change pronouns as needed. based on this generator. 

‘ how about i take you home? ’

‘ who do you fight for? ’

‘ you can relax. we’re safe here.’ 

‘ are you threatening me? ’

‘ i told you to leave me out of this. ’

‘ i guess it runs in the family, huh? ’

‘ you’re leaving already? ’

‘ that sounds dangerous. i’m in!’ 

‘ what do you wish for? ’

‘ you look like you just saw a ghost.’ 

‘ don’t look at me like that. ’

‘ we can just sit here. we don’t have to talk.’ 

‘ you can’t get rid of me that easy. ’

‘ do you want something for the pain? ’

‘ can i have some cash? ’

‘ i know you’re dangerous, but i also know you won’t hurt me.’ 

‘ that’s quite a scratch you’ve got there.’ 

‘ when was the last time you slept? ’

‘ i know who you are. i know what you’ve done. ’

‘ you’re being followed. pretend you know me.’ 

‘ you never should’ve left. ’

‘ i think i’m getting sick. ’

‘ snap out of it! ’

‘ yes i killed them, but i did it for you.’ 

‘ don’t treat me like a child. ’

‘ how does it feel to be in love? ’

‘ surprised to run into you here. ’

‘ how many people have you killed? ’

‘ i didn’t want to come, but i need your help. ’

‘ i know i’m not the person you want, but i’m here. ’

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.

@untaimed liked this for a small thing

NOSE SCRUNCHES WHEN THE OTHER COMES IN; Eliza couldn't help but get the feeling that Laura was looking for her. Perhaps the events that unfolded some 45 minutes ago and the two unconscious men on the roof of the bar might have something to do with it. Still, Eliza was determined to finish her beer first.

She grips the neck of the bottle she was nursing, peeling it from the sticky surface below ❛ whats with the long face ?? ❜ smile falters some as she turns in her seat to face the other

NAMES YELIZA GOES BY

Yeliza/Eliza

The Hybrid ( specifically during her time under the KGB )

Mayhem

April ( for certain muses and this must be discussed before )

Yelizaveta Voronstova

Changeling ( specifically norman osborn )

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. “

private,  indie,  selective,  Y E L I Z A V E T A V O R O N T S O V A,,, M A Y H E M  “ the  reason  i  tell  that  story  is  that  history  mustn’t  forget  that  i’m  the  bad  guy”  of  marvel  comics  earth  982  &&  616.  heavily  headcanon  based  with  some  mcu  influences.  W E B B E D  B Y  Y A M ,   mid-20s ,  she/they.   A  S T U D Y  O N:   loss  of  innocent  ,  ptsd  &&  the  darkness  within

*   ━━━━━━━━━━━━ @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.