#kat ily

hi ☝️☝️☝️ are we friends now can we be friends ☝️☝️☝️

Oh my gosh YESSSS!!!!!! OH COURSE WE CAN BE FRIENDS!!! Ive loved looking at your blog and fanfics for a while now, AND REALIZED I WASN’T FOLLOWING!!

There, clear as day, were over a thousand messages from Natasha. But that wasn't the part that had (almost literally) floored her. No, that was because of the most recent message. It read simply, Я люблю тебя сестренка.

I love you, little sister.

And it was dated 26 April 2023.

Which was impossible, because when Yelena had been driving up this lane just a few minutes ago, it had definitely been 23 April 2018.

Or: texts from Natasha to Yelena in the five years between Infinity War and Endgame, and what they meant to Yelena. My birthday present for the one and only @aleksandrachaev, love and mocking light of my life 💜

<3

KAT! Thank you so much, I had a splendid time, I really did. Being home is a bit bittersweet but it’s good to be back. here is a pic no one asked for; it’s of one of the last sunsets that I saw there. She liked to show off 🥺✨

A year ago today, @thestarrynightgazer started publishing her masterpiece, Love & Salvation. Please do check it out if you haven’t already. Kat is a genius.

Kat, you are a wonderful artist, an amazing story teller and one of the best friends anyone could ever have. This is for you. Thanks for doing the art to go with it. 💜

Bodies. Everywhere.

Elaine gasps as she rounds over the crest of a hill, the verdant grass that sparkles with dew in the early morning light suddenly crunching under her feet. The blades are dusted with frost, like a coating of sugar that reflects rainbows across the ground. It would be beautiful, if it were not for the sight that stretches before her, a macabre landscape filled with gore and death.

The earth is stained a dark red, limbs sprawling out at odd angles, pale skin and snow-white feathers splattered with mud. Elaine has never seen so many people all in one place, let alone so much carnage. The Fairy King’s forest is a place of sanctuary, a calm retreat from Britannia’s woes where a few fairies flit between the trees. This is the first time she has travelled beyond the borders of her home and she is already regretting her decision. Ban had promised their lives in the human world would be good; not perfect of course, but happy enough. Times would be hard and money scarce but they would have each other and that was what mattered. Elaine had consented, excitement running through her as she said a curt farewell to her brother before heading beyond the reach of the Sacred Tree.

But at their agreed meeting place, Ban is not there. She waits for what feels an age but is no more than an hour, before stretching out her powers to scour the area. She has vowed to eschew her magic, to blend in with the society she would be joining. What human would want to consort with a stranger who could read hearts as easily as breathing? But worry gnaws at her insides and she can hold out no longer, her need to find Ban overriding every other concern. She searches for his signature, the spiky energy which is strong if a little crude, Ban’s magic having developed without formal instruction.

The trace is faint but distinctive. Elaine picks up a slight tremor on the breeze, a weak suggestion, nothing more. Heart full of misgiving, Elaine paces forward, following the hint of power she locks her senses onto. Unthinking she launches herself into the air, soaring through the breeze until she comes upon the slope of the hill. Touching down lightly, senses on full alert as she feels an ominous shiver on the wind, she takes the few steps over the top to look down, bile rising in her throat as she beholds the scale of the death, her powers telling her than Ban lies in the middle of it.

She will have to go on.

Elaine holds her breath as she carefully picks her way through the bodies, unable to stop herself looking down to the gruesome sight at her feet. These are goddesses and demons, of that she is sure. There are several enormous cadavers in red and grey, the feel of darkness still clinging to their forms. Many of the more human-looking specimens have wings; some only a single pair on their back in downy grey while others are broad with feathers pure as the driven snow, save for the grime of battle. She gasps as she passes the corpse of a large goddess with three heads, eyes closed as if in sleep. She scrunches up her nose, remembering the stories of her childhood and the four archangels who led the Supreme Deity’s army until the two opposing armies vanished to nothing. This goddess must have been the one they called Tarmiel. And in that case…

Elaine sucks in an audible breath when she sees the wings, still iridescent even after all these centuries. They reflect the sunlight, sparkling rainbows over the large body of the giant lying alongside the corpse the appendages adhere to. Only one being had been blessed with wings like these: the first fairy king, the Lord Gloxinia. The body slumped next to him must be that of King Drole. The four-armed Goliath is covered in cuts, slashes which have criss-crossed his blue skin. But Elaine is puzzled, and she examines the giant and the fairy who lies protectively beside him. There is no damage which can explain their deaths; the wounds are nasty but merely superficial.

Elaine shivers, the hairs on her arms standing to attention. Her breath ghosts through the air, trails of steam floating like gossamer before her, as is she were a dragon. It is freezing cold, colder than she has ever felt in the shelter of the forest where the fountain of youth maintains a permanent spring. But here, in the midst of all the death, the ice on the ground shines obsidian, sucking in the rays of the sun to leave a darkness soft as velvet. All is still, completely quiet, not even the sound of an insect rustling through the frozen grass. All she can hear is the sound of her blood as it pounds in her ears.

Her instinct is to flee, but Elaine grits her teeth. She is the Holy Maiden, and she will not be deterred. Has she not guarded the secrets of her home for centuries, sending humans flying off the cliff before her? She pushes out her powers, feeling the crackle of magic on the air. Somehow Ban has got himself into the middle of this morass of a battlefield and she must follow him.

The ring in her ears grows to an uncomfortable thrum as she presses forwards. Her limbs ache, the pressure in the air almost enough to make her head explode, but still she keeps going, rising above the ground to float through the air. Elaine forces herself forwards as she approaches the centre where a violet haze sparkles and glows. The air is fresh here and, hard as it is to keep pushing on, Elaine feels the refreshing fire of the cold burning her lungs.

A sudden groan attracts her attention. “Ban!” cries the fairy as she redoubles her efforts, fighting towards the centre of the field. It is as if the very earth is trying to keep her away and she wonders how Ban made it quite this far. She passes misshapen corpses, encased in ice, their twisted expressions of fear and anger preserved for eternity. There is a tall demon with a long moustache, arrows shooting down from his eye. He looks in horror towards the purple mass which now dominates the space, his face a picture of desperation and sorrow.

When she researches the object her heart skips a beat. The mulberry ice rises in terrible shards, fingers pointing cruelly at the sky. She cannot breathe, cannot think as terror drips down the back of her neck. Then she looks into the centre of the glimmering structure, the sight enough to bring tears to her eyes.

Within the iceberg stands a demon, anguish etched on his features, a lithe goddess held close in his arms. The angel he carries is pierced through the heart, a spear of darkness jutting from his chest. Tears are frozen mid-fall, and Elaine can feel the pull on her heart, the demon’s emotions so strong they can be read even now. She feels love, pain, despair, the agony of loss which tears the demon to pieces. He has unleashed his power, unable to control the surge of emotion, freezing himself and the goddess he adored with everything that he had and ending the war in a blanket of black snow.

A painful lump forms in her throat and a tear of her own slides down her cheek. She sinks to the floor, breathing heavily, unable to stem the overwhelming sadness which has penetrated her soul. She falls, swallowed by sorrow, the warmth of the terrible ice and snow folding over her like a blanket. She will lie here forever, bound by the pain of the demon and goddess who suffered till death.

“Elaine!” The yell brings her back to her senses and she struggles to breath, suddenly overwhelmed with the cold. “Must… escape!” She feels arms wrap around her, pulling her into a close embrace as her rescuer hauls her away from the pain, away from the sadness and back into the light. The tears fall in earnest as they reach the top of the hill, the warmth of the sun sinking through to her bones.

She melts into her love’s embrace. “Ban,” murmurs Elaine softly as she rests her head on his chest. “What happened? Why were you in that terrible place?”

She feels the human stiffen as he holds her. “What were you doing?” she asks a little more sharply, and she twists so that she can see the human’s expression. He is looking decidedly shifty, his crimson eyes darting everywhere but in her direction.

Her stony silences releases his tongue. “I was… looking for treasure,” Ban admits with a little laugh. “It looked so pretty and I thought… I thought it would give us enough to start our lives together.”

Elaine flies upwards, flinging her arms round his next. He steps backwards with the force of her movement but maintains his ground, holding her close as she sobs into his chest. “We don’t need money, we have each other,” she eventually manages to rasp out. “Is that not enough?”

“Yeah,” Ban replies as he pulls her closer towards him. “Yeah, it is. And it always will be.”