Open RP Post!

[krasnaya_vdova]

• Leave me a starter, an idea, a picture, whatever you like! Give me as much or as little detail as you like and I'll work something out!
• No brainwashing or related themes without prior discussion, but otherwise have at! I can work her into any canonpoint.
• M/F for shipping, open to anything for friendship.
• Open to anyone, whether or not we've played before, crosscanon, whatever. Give me things!
• Open to smut, but if you're gonna have sexy references in the top level label the subject line pls.
• Hit me up on Plurk (natalia_vdova) or Dicord (natalia_vdova#0150) or PM if you want to plot something.

Comments

text;

[backalleywars]

Hypothetically speaking, you could teach someone to fight?

text;

[krasnaya_vdova]

Steve.

Yes, hypothetically speaking, I could teach someone to fight.

Don't say you're asking for a friend.

For Bucky

[krasnaya_vdova]

hey, are you still awake?

[Hopefully the text doesn't wake him if he wasn't. She knows how fitful sleep can be after everything.]

[jamesbbarnes]

I'm awake.

What are you doing up?

[ Lucky for Ava, Bucky hardly slept at all because of the nightmares and just in general flashbacks. ]

[stephanierogers]

Are you still awake?

[krasnaya_vdova]

Yeah, but why are you?

[Ava has nightmares so her sleep is pretty erratic, to put it nicely. Steph seems to handle things better so-- color her a little curious.]

For Steve!

[krasnaya_vdova]

[It's been a good day. One of those rare days where they make plans and there isn't a crisis that develops halfway through lunch that has them suiting up so they can meet Natasha on the quinjet. They actually manage to spend the day in autumn sweaters, picking apples, Ava's scarf covering half her face, mostly rosy cheeks and twinkling blue eyes.

For all that she threw herself into anything that involved helping people, saving people, she adored moments like this. A quiet day where she could forget everything else. Just getting to be around him, to laugh and smile and feel the warmth that he made curl in her chest, the way her slender arms curled around him. She still couldn't believe it some times, even if they'd been officially dating for well over a year. He just still made her heart skip in a way she hadn't thought anyone would ever again.

Since they back to his apartment, she'd made cider and they've been talking about plans for the perhaps slightly too-big pumpkin they'd picked out. And then there's Tony's Halloween party that they're under no circumstances allowed to miss -- it's a hard direction to ignore when it comes from both Tony and Pepper. And even if she still isn't fond of big parties, Ava's always been fond of Halloween.

The community center always had spare costumes to borrow, and there was this strange camaraderie of clusters of city kids running around door to door, trying to get as much candy as they could before the hour got too late. And the YMCA usually had come kind of event, with apple bobbing and small treats. It was always just one of the few holidays where she actually felt like something more than an outsider, missing that thing everyone else had: people that cared.

Except that now she has that. Not just in Steve, but in the Avengers, in the people that have become almost more family than friends.] Hmm, or I could go as one of your USO girls.

[She's teasing, although there's a shine to her face at the way her lips curl, a sly smile as she watches his face. She still thinks they should get him in a uniform. A girl's allowed to have dreams. But thinking of dreams, she can't help letting her attention wander to the ring she has hidden. He'd almost caught her when she'd forgotten to take it off her bedside table when he'd been over, but she thought she recovered in time. She hadn't really figured out exactly how she wanted to ask him, but in her head, it had been something charming, memorable, only a little extravagant...

But there's something about the moment. About homemade apple cider, cookies in the shapes of pumpkins and ghosts, and fake cobwebs stretched to cover the widows. Most of all, sharing it with him. And it just has to be tonight because everything feels so right.

It only takes a little covert fiddling to slip the ring into the palm of her hand. She just... needs to figure out the right words.] Hey- Steve?

[Probably not the most promising start. She hasn't felt this awkward around him since their first date that didn't begin or end with punching people.]

[stevegrogers]

[ Happiness curled around him and the easy smile on his face felt rare and fragile but also a relief from the constant expectations and stress. For once, they managed an entire day without the emergence of danger or threats to earth. It seemed they finally had a moment to breathe and they took full advantage of it with fall like activities. The apples were sitting on the counter, gleaming with a promise of apple pies, caramel apples and all kinds of other things. Steve couldn't wait to actually celebrate things for once. The large pumpkin they picked out loomed on the table, ready to become some kind of design.

Munching on some cookies, shaped in bats, ghosts and pumpkins, he looked up when Ava began talking about the Halloween party again. He didn't really enjoy parties but having Ava there for support would help plenty with keeping him calmer. ]

But you'd have to do the song all night, think of that.

[ With a grin, he popped another bite of cookie into his mouth. Shaking his head, he walked over to grab for the homemade apple cider to pour them both a glass. ]

We need to do some more decorating.

[ Turning on his heel, he offered a lopsided grin. ] What? Do I have cookie crumbs all over me? I'm thinking we could make mummy hot dogs and witches brew for dinner. That sound good to you?

[jamesbbarnes]

I keep thinking about running my mouth all over you.

[krasnaya_vdova]

You're very distracting, you know.
Now I can't stop thinking about it either.

[She's a little flushed, but thankfully no one's looking.]

For Tony!

[krasnaya_vdova]

[It's been long months since she walked out on Natasha, smiled something thin and brittle and told her that whatever this was between them, whatever quantum connection they had, working together wasn't good for anyone. She even gave her back the red Harley Natasha had bought her for her 18th, like she was trying to break anything she might have to hold onto.

If not for the fact that things had gone a bit crazy in the States not too long after she'd walked away, she might not have so seamlessly faded into the background. As it is, she lives out in the cold. She didn't entirely keep her head down, but she was a flicker that most people weren't looking for, traveling the world but never staying. A young woman with bright red hair and glowing blue eyes that helped people where she could. Sometimes it was small time bullies. Sometimes it was actual villains. She didn't realize she was making a name for herself, leaving behind people who told stories.

Ava had been looking for answers; Russia, France, Brazil, and a dozen other places. High-tech computer systems and long buried bunkers with paper files. But as far as she could tell, there were no answers to find. Who she was, what she was, the secrets they'd pulled from her- all of it seemed to have vanished in smoke. And what scraps she had found had only left her with more questions. Honestly, she's almost glad when there happens to be a villain to fight, when she gets to put on the costume and wrest power in her fingertips.

It's cathartic, a good way to not think about the fact that Sana's in a coma in a SHIELD facility because no one knows how to fix her. That Ava couldn't protect her, just like she couldn't save Alexei, and she hasn't been back to see her mostly out of guilt. It's easier to run. Pretend if she never stops that she wont ever have to face the ghosts that lean over her shoulders. Or deal with the fact that she pulled a gun on Natasha expecting the woman to put a bullet in her head to save the world. She doesn't even admit to herself that she misses the people that were almost her friends, that treated her like she mattered. People that had cared enough to check in on her, try to tell her that finding you had powers, being different didn't make you a bad person.

Tonight, things go a little left of plan. Usually, the formula is beat up the bad guy and get out before anyone shows up. Tonight she ends up pinned down keeping civilians safe so she can't get to the source. She's debating the options- none of which she likes- and then the Avengers show up. Ava doesn't run, tempting as the idea might be. She stays and fights. Problem is that when it's all over, she's left standing next to Tony and that red and gold armor. Belligerent is a good word for her general attitude toward anyone connected to Natasha these days, but she just isn't up to picking a fight so soon after finishing one.]

Think there's any place open for coffee?

[She's got nothing. Maybe he can do better.]

For Bucky

[krasnaya_vdova]

[The idea of traveling with someone else isn't an idea she's been particularly comfortable with, but for some reason it's not as bad with Bucky. Her powers aren't quite as much of a threat as they were back when she was still at the SHIELD Academy, she has more control, but it's not always perfect control. Not when she had nightmares, anyway. It means that she sleeps as infrequently as she can manage, and that when she does it's fitful. But sometimes it happens anyway.

They're in a safehouse, quiet, out in the industrial district, the sort of place where people don't look twice. She sleeps mostly quietly, low, indistinct murmurs, slight tosses of her head, occasional jerks of her shoulders. When she wakes, it's with a start, a moment where she's all glowing blue eyes that can't see the room around her. The dream was full of screaming, fingers on a gun, triggers in her head and faces, and she's fighting to catch her breath. It was close-- too close. That way she can all but feel the power humming under her skin. When she sits up it's fast and sudden, eyes scanning the room like she's looking for a threat, an attacker, something to fight.

But it's just him. Bucky. He's awake, almost like he's watching over her, and it's enough. Pulls her from the things that haunt her.

She breathes then, rakes fingers through her red hair, strands sticking to her left cheek as she tries to control herself. Get her heart rate down before she turns their little bolthole into a fire hazard. Sometimes, she wonders if he realizes just how dangerous she is. If even she does. She's not safe. Too many questions, not enough answers.]

...You're awake.

[She's not quite back to herself, and that statement is soft, maybe a little lonely, maybe glad for it. That she's not alone as she slips from under the blanket to grab a bottle of water.]

[disassembling]

[He was better traveling on his own as well, keeping the nightmares to himself and making faster headway towards a set goal in mind. However, even he admitted that being able to sleep and know there was another pair of sensitive ears listening allowed him to relax marginally. Ava was a good traveling companion, seemingly as wary of moving along with him as he was with her. He just happened to have so many more years of experience hiding what he was feeling that he could allow his unease to never reach the surface.

He also slept decidedly less than she did. It wasn't because he had to, but more that he felt that he had spent eighty percent of the last seventy years sleeping in cryo that it seemed a waste of time to continue to do so now.

Her nightmares were also far more obvious than his; he had long ago been trained and manipulated into stillness, to never making a sound even while he was settled in sleep. His mind might torment him with fragments of memory or whatever other bloated grotesque tales it wanted to spin, but he didn't move a muscle or make a sound while it happening. Ava was different; her nightmares were, in their own way, honest. It was clear that she had powers and they could come to the surface when her mind was being tormented by her dreams. He wondered how much of her dreams were her own and how much where forced upon her by the memories she carried as Natalia.

When she suddenly sat up from the dream, he was sitting against a wall of their current safe house, turning his head from looking out of the grimy window to regard her. The moonlight bathed him, making his metal arm hot white and the rest of him stark obvious. His fingers stopped tapping against his raised knee, and his eyes tracked her motions as she rose and wandered off to their supplies, always packed and ready to go if they needed to make a quick and clean escape.]

So are you. Would you like to talk about that?

[At times, conversation really wasn't their thing. Ava earned more honest conversation than the facade he played otherwise for the public. He might be damaged, but he was highly trained and highly effective.]

[jamesbbarnes]

If I disappeared suddenly could you find me?

[krasnaya_vdova]

I like to think so.

Am I going to have to find out?

[There's a touch of worry there, concern that edges around the question. But she doesn't tell him not to, either.]

For Rumlow!

[krasnaya_vdova]

[Ava's not supposed to be here. Unfortunately, that never really seems to stop her from slipping out and finding her way to Rumlow.

She has her room, the door with 7B printed on the outside that's been her personalized prison cell ever since she got handed over to SHIELD. But those locks don't really hold her. She's good, good enough at what she does, what she was trained to do, that slipping out is more a question of time and effort than ability. She slips out of her room like a shadow and finds her way to his.

Ava's breathing in the scent of him, the way that it's heavy on the air that fills the space, and it's comforting, not that she ever admits to that part. She could have just knocked, but where was the fun in that? It was part of why she did this, in honesty. She got so bored and Rumlow was always interesting. Maybe not in a way that was safe, or even sane half the time, but he made her blood hum in her veins, put her whole body on edge. And that feeling, just being around him, was almost addictive. And he smelled good. Something primal, her tongue flicking against her lips so she could taste it on the air, even if she tried to make sure it wasn't obvious when she was looking up at him, thunder in her brown eyes.

When she'd been trained with the Russians, they'd taught her how to modulate her scent, conceal it. Which is what she's doing now, so she doesn't immediately give herself away. So he doesn't scent her the second she steps foot into his space. Instead, she slips through the dark and the shadows, and she waits. It's a familiar game. She steals a beer, adding insult to injury. Alcohol doesn't make the list of things they give her with her rations, so who can really blame her? Rumlow, for one. She knows he wont be amused, but that in and of itself sparks a warmth of embers in her chest. Her smile is crooked, red hair loose over her shoulders, a contrast against the black they put her in, but it's hard to see in the dark.]

[ukase]

[Rumlow was a lifer, as they were called. His path had been set out for him from the day he had been conceived, a new asset of HYDRA made by HYDRA. Some would say that he never stood a chance under the forceful hand of his father and the calm assurances of his mother that he was exactly where he was supposed to be. Small for his age group, he had been picked for an experimental program first utilized by Colonel Karpov in Russia.

As developing children with moldable personalities and no good or bad to them, they were given small doses of the super soldier serum from the age of six to twelve when puberty set in. Educated, exercised, trained and allowed to live relatively normal lives, the differences became stark as they grew up. All of them became alphas, many of the boys were vicious beyond control and the girls were cunning as they were cruel. Most didn't last to their fifteenth birthday, put down as the rabid animals that they had become.

Brock Rumlow was not in their number. Like a handful of others, he had the right combination of disposition, strengths but more than that, he had self control. He was also one of the more resilient of the children who matured, able to heal from massive damage and walk it off. Like his mother said, he was exactly where he was supposed to be, and so he was allowed to continue.

It was why he had been paired off when he was twenty-one to a young operative that had been shipped over from Russia. He hadn't been keen to bond, feeling it would be a distraction from his mission, but Ava wasn't flat or stupid like some of the others he had met. She was cunning and sneaky, and she offered a challenge that was as entertaining as it was safe, if he could call it that. They weren't able to see each other often thanks to her own unique training and being in hiding, but her scent was something he associated with safety despite most of their encounters being something of a battle.

Rumlow wasn't expecting her, but that never meant that she would stay where she was supposed to. She broke the rules when it suited her, which was how he operated except he was far more sly about it. He rubbed his damp hair with a towel as he stepped out of the bathroom from his shower, a pair of loose pajama pants riding low on his hips and a toothbrush jammed into the side of his mouth. He was a multitasker if nothing else.

Rubbing his hair as he padded barefoot down the hallway towards the kitchen. He moved in the dark, familiar with his apartment as much in the dark as he was in the light. His nostrils naturally flared to drink in scent with each room he entered, an instinctual reaction alphas all seemed to have and had to fight to control. In his own space, he was not so rigid on controlling himself.

He spat in the sink and rinsed his toothbrush, tucking it behind his ear as he pulled open the fridge to grab a beer. His hand froze in the light that splash out from the fridge, immediately identifying that one of the bottles was missing. Only one person in the whole world dared to come into his space and take his beer, and a low dangerous growl rumbled from his throat as he slammed the fridge door shut again, items inside rattling. He made a very clear show of snorting and sniffing, searching for his scent which she was clearly obfuscating from him.]

You're not supposed to be here. [An opener to all their secret little meet-ups.] I'm going to find you; I always do...

For Rumlow

[krasnaya_vdova]

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

[The mission had gone pear-shaped. Jinx has taken too long so the alarms hadn't been down when Ava surged out the power. She'd managed to get all three of her charges to the extraction point by drawing all the attention to herself, and eventually managed to slip away, but it certainly hadn't been exactly pleasant. She's not really hurt, just singed, blood on the white fabric of her uniform, her hair a mess, and the scorch of fire on her skin. Luckily, there's a safehouse that's not too far away; she doubts she's lucky enough for there to be a shower, but soap and running water, a change of clothes, and some vaguely passable rations are about what she's hoping for right now.

It looks like a normal enough warehouse, but there's a hidden keypad around the side, and Ava types in her code, leaning against the door and then she's stepping inside with a sigh as it clicks locked behind her. She all but immediately strips to the waist, undoing the closures on her bodysuit, leaving the top of it hanging around her waist, rather un-self-conscious. She's got a sports bra on so she's not too concerned, even on the off chance there is someone else around.

She's looking for a spare uniform when she sees him, a familiar face, and that's what makes her self-conscious, in the end. Because she has the look of a mission gone wrong all over her skin, the scent in her hair. Technically, she'd finished the mission- had the data on a USB stick in her back pocket- but it had not been graceful, and everyone at the compound, and probably for a few miles around were on high alert. And she'd wanted to be able to show off how good she was, if she ever saw him again. Competent. And not having half blown herself up to make sure the soldiers with guns stayed on her while she talked the three recruits through the escape plan to the extraction point.]

--Rumlow?

[ukase]

[Rumlow didn't often solo missions, but he could. It had been decided last minute that the rest of his team was required on a separate mission, and he would have to sneak into the compound and assassinate the target on his own. It was rather routine, and he had prepared well for this mission with the team. If anything, the fewer white American-like guys and gals around, the easier this mission would be. He was prepared, and everything was set.

All he had to do was wait until the cover of darkness. It was too hot to do much more than nap, so he stayed in the SHIELD secret safehouse dozing. And then the explosions had gone off and the racket had been enough to even sit him up as he tried to assess the situation. Everyone, hostile or friendly, went on alert for miles.

A check in with SHIELD to confirm that his mission was still a go informed him that a group of young Academy rookies had blundered in their minor mission. They were not all accounted for, even with the mission being a success, it was also not the skill and tact that SHIELD wanted in a hostile area like this. His mission had just changed designation as moderate to very risky.

Security would be beefed before he could even make an attempt.

His mood soured, but he had told high command he would make a single attempt to reach his target. This mission was too important to not give it a go, so he was back to waiting for the cover of night, staring out the window as the situation devolved gradually. And then as he reviewed maps and recalculated time and angles in his head, the door to the safe house was unlocked and someone came inside. He was supposed to be one of the only agents in the area.

He went still, his sniper rifle at his elbow and ready to be of use, but his hands remained on the map instead. He waited and listened the new person's progress, and he recognized her in the fading light before she even saw him. His little bean-sprout. He would have expected better of her, what with how her uniform and even the manner of her hair made it clear that she was at least part of the reason his mission had just become a lot more difficult.

He watched her, raising an eyebrow.] What did you do, little sprout? That was you, wasn't it?

For Tony, post-CW

[krasnaya_vdova]

[Ava isn't there when everything happens, doesn't show up for the Accords, she isn't in Vienna. No, she just watches from the sidelines, the news reports on the televisions, people she sort of wants to strangle who keep blaming Wanda for saving people. The dissertations on the Winter Soldier as a weapon of Hydra, and the chaos that follows in the wake of the UN bombing.

By the time she makes it to the Avengers compound, the dust has already settled. She knows that it's too late, knew that when Steve and Natasha were being reported as criminals. Maybe the right thing to do is to sit and wait, get the hidden burner phone Natasha gave her for emergencies and hope she calls, or comes to get her. But Ava's never been good at waiting, so she grabs her bag, tosses it on the back of the Harley Natasha gave her on her eighteenth birthday and she drives out to the compound.

Ava's stopped by now and then over the past couple years. Enough to meet everyone, and she'd even trained with Steve, Wanda and Vision a few times, talked with Tony and laughed at his jokes. But she wasn't an Avenger. She understood why, even if she disagreed with it.

Natasha wanted to keep her out of the line of fire. Wanted to keep her safe because she knew that Ava wouldn't do it for herself. Because they'd had the same sort of training, and Natasha wanted her to get her art degree and stop running, be allowed to not fight anymore.

Ava loves art. And having her own place, even if it's a shitty apartment that might actually be worse than the YMCA basement. But the truth is that she she doesn't know how to stop fighting. When things go wrong, every bone in her body wants to be there. She has power in her hands, death on her shoulders, and she needs to do something.

It's too late for that now, but she goes anyway. Because it matters. Because even if the Avengers were people she knew more because of Natasha, she needed to see what the damage looked like. To see what pieces were left in the wake of all of this. To make sure they were okay.]

Tony?

[She wasn't sure if anyone was here yet. But she was fairly confident they would be. Some of them, at least.]

[doesntpaint]

[ If anyone were to ask Tony, he'd say that Ava was better off not having been there. And there's a part of him that wishes he could be on the sidelines too, rather than being on one side of a particularly uncomfortable schism. Tony knew that the Avengers weren't always a cohesive unit that saw eye-to-eye 100% of the time, but they still did manage to work together with a few bumps in the road.

Now all of that was changed, and he knew he wasn't the only one who'd been left reeling. But he couldn't afford to let that slow him down. If he slowed down, then he'd have too much time to think, and if he thought, then he'd just get bogged down in what-ifs and regrets. He'd never had time for those before, and he wasn't making time for them now.

At least, that was the idea. The compound was quiet now, a fact Tony tried to cover up by blasting AC/DC or Black Sabbath a little louder than was strictly necessary. He very nearly missed Ava's arrival and her saying his name, but the movement he spotted from the corner of his eye got his attention, and he lowered the music so that they wouldn't have to shout. ]

Hey. You just get here?

[ He was used to people just showing up, and if he was going to be at least a little bit honest, the company would be a nice change of pace. ]

For Loki

[krasnaya_vdova]

[Continued from here.]

[Ava picks up quickly, faster than most would. But she has Natasha's gift for it, for how bodies move, for breath and timing and motion. Maybe it helps that he moves like a snake and she like a dancer. Maybe it makes it harder that they're both more curves than angles.

She's not holding back, but her attacks nevertheless probe for answers, weaknesses. She's a little more in your face than Natasha.

Even if the way she holds herself, the way she shifts her weight, corrects her body posture as he redirects her motion have that same flair. She fights like someone far older than she is.]

[dothelokimotion]

[ while loki may not have been on earth for very long, at least not long enough to know the way it's changed, the intricacies of their lives and patterns, he was raised as a warrior along with thor. self-styled as he is, you cannot escape the know-hows of war. for a peaceful land, asgard was raised with a sword in its hand and a knife between the teeth.

so he notices and changes his approach. a dancer's weight is negligible after all, and as such, when an arm comes, loki grabs it, twisting it behind her back. ]

[vdova]

[ The message is simple: A set of coordinates, a date, a time. Natasha knows Ava will understand, if she's still alive.

The place is what used to be a small family owned cafe in downtown Manhattan, a handful of blocks away from Times Square. The city is still trying to recover from the sudden rapturing of people, buildings still standing with holes in them where cars and planes had crashed.

The owner of the cafe is the only member of his family left, and he tries to go about his business as normal, but none of it is normal. Natasha isn't going to try and pretend that it is. But he's very good at making lavender lattes, and his tira misu isn't quite what it was when it was his wife making it, but it's good all the same.

Her hair has grown out a bit, a little red at the roots of her blonde, and she sits. Waits. Ada will show. Or she won't. And Natasha will know. ]

[krasnaya_vdova]

[Thanos took half the world from them. The Avengers tried to get them back, but couldn't. And now it's a matter of seeing what's left, of trying to move on or build something or start over.

But Ava lost Sana and she doesn't know how to do any of that.

So she almost doesn't come. Walks in five minutes late, almost like she's hoping that Natasha will have left, will have given up on finding out what's left of her. There's always been a darkness about her, but now it's deeper, colder, tinged with rage. Not too dissimilar from the look in Clint's eyes before he left, no doubt, although Ava hasn't quite hit that tipping point. But there's a polish to her edges that wasn't there before, her red hair cut short again and her blue eyes hidden behind sunglasses.

She can't help feeling like she should have been there. Not that she thinks Nat would have wanted her there, or that she was strong enough to make a difference in a threat of this magnitude, but it was there all the same, that sense of guilt. That she'd failed, just like with Alexi.

She slides in across from Natasha in a black leather jacket and dark jeans, fighting to keep her shoulders straight and her face neutral. To not give away the loss, the hurt. How bright the urge to lash out burns, because with Sana gone she has no direction left. Nothing left. But her voice is soft when she speaks, and she's here, and that's something, at least.]

Hello, sestra.

For Cain; tfln

[krasnaya_vdova]

[The message comes in easy Russian; a mistext, a number lost somewhere, or a name that leaves Cain with this gem popping up on his phone instead of where it belonged:]

How did you lose my knife, anyway? Unless you lost it in someone, I'm gonna be real mad. I liked that one.

[beshenaya]

[ Who the hell was this? Not a number he recognized, but the language he knew well. ]

I always pull out after, sweetheart.