Kuryakin. @bloodymists-blog - Tumblr Blog

“He’s an Oxford-educated psychologist, who wrote a monograph on serial killers and the occult that helped catch Monty Props in 1988. Generally thought of as the best analyst in the violent crimes section… He had a nickname at the academy… Spooky Mulder.“

#( promo. )#( self promo. )#( HEY GUYS so i made a fox mulder account #DO YOU LIKE XFILES? DO YOU LIKE ALIEN CHASING CONSPIRACY THEORISTS? flirty and cheeky fbi agents? a witty asshole?#well then... spooky mulder is the man for you. i'll get on illya later i just want to test the waters with mulder a little bit.#i'm still a bit busy so i'll spend what little time i have building mr spooky and working on drafts here. :') )#( HELP A BROTHER OUT. )

Sorry I haven’t been very active recently, everyone! I’m really pulling my teeth out here trying to find free time in my busy schedule, but I’m weaseling in what I can when I can. But, hey, I’m probably going to be more free this weekend after I finish another segment of my thesis. :’) I’ll tackle more lengthier replies then, alright?

#( ooc. )#( tbd. )#( I feel awful putting off my longer replies but I'm writing like 20 pages every week.#By the time I'm free I'm so not on board with writing. Forgive me. )

eastgcrman:

❛ it’s been a while, has it not ?? too long, some could say. ❜

He said nothing as he approached her, but the silence was comfortable. They hadn’t seen one another in quite some time, but the separation was inevitable; spies, after all, were always flung to far-off places, busy saving the world.

“It has been, yes,” Illya answered finally, stopping before her and eyes warm. “But it is always good to see familiar face.” And, most importantly, friendly.

#eastgcrman #( v: iron heart & iron grip. )#( saunters in )#( :' ) )

Happy Valentine’s Day ; ).

…. …. ….

#ib0028 #( for eyes only. )#( that google translate image is his mind.#it's like 'i know german does she think she's being sneaky.'#GABY YOU THOUGHT. )#( get OUT anna. )#submission

valentine’s day is another capitalist scheme and proof of american corruption and greed do not fall for it, illya whispers

#( tbd. )#( but IS IT ooc? we just don't know. )#( halmark has ruined it do not trust them. )

ofrussiia:

the moment she starts being followed, she knows it’s happening. being the nice creature that she is, natasha gives it time, doesn’t immediately pull her stalker into a dark corner and ask for answers. red hair blowing in the wind, she keeps walking for a little longer until she finds the right place to stop next to a coffee shop, close to the center of the city where people walk around hurriedly. the perfect place if she needs to run away.

❛ if you tell me who sent you, no one has to get hurt. ❜

If she stays still, neither of them will. “This will depend on you.” Should it warm her to hear a voice so reminiscent of home, or should it alarm her? Warn her? She must have been properly paranoid to surround herself in the heart of the city, but she is shrewd and careful, would not have survived as long otherwise. “Agent Romonova.”

"You are expecting someone--” As though she’s being chased by her past. It’s blatant now: He is a Russian spy. “Why is that?” Like he doesn’t know.

#ofrussia #( thanks for the starter! )#( v: the years pass and bodies fall. )

pcrimeter:

meadow shrugs, looking down, because he’s right in a way. in her job, he could afford to admit when she didn’t have control. if she didn’t have control, she had to take control. but that didn’t mean she could pick and choose. a good agent always took control, but a good agent cannot play favorites. so she gives him a small half smile and nudges him slightly, a girlish grin beginning to form.

❝ guess my mouth is my downfall. good thing actions speak louder than words, right, big guy? ❞

Her frown has given way to a warming smile, one that tugs at the edge of her lips, light and pleasant. For once, Illya seems to have said just the right thing, a miracle given his tendency to inspire frustration - intentionally or not. He straightens himself marginally when she elbows him, stands taller as he looks to her. Big guy was right.

“Depends. They can say a lot about you.” Oh, is that so? And what have her words said to him? Benignly, Illya suggests, “I would be more careful with that mouth.”

#pcrimeter #( v: the years pass and bodies fall. )#( omg ARE YOU GONNA BE OKAY???#come into my arms.#ur levelling up too quickly pls slow down. )

@solofide from here.

“And if I had – you’d probably be dead.” Napoleon’s tone was light enough considering the situation, vastly understating the severity of his own injuries in favor of winning a debate with the Russian.

Dead? Illya looked to him as though offended, his muscles taut and jaw set. “I would have handled it,” he snapped fiercely. “I do not need your protection.” And Solo should have known that the KGB's best would find this insulting. Illya wore his scowl like his pride, but Napoleon's wounds festered his guilt nonetheless. "You nearly got yourself killed."

#solofide #( v: iron heart & iron grip. )#( I DO WHAT I WANT. )#( YOU AND SOLO BOTH WILL JUST HAVE TO TAKE IT. )

pryokinetics:

❝ && this is where, i tell you to stand back. i can burn ten time’ s hotter than the sun, && the sun is pretty fuckin’ hot. ❞ nadia practiced with her power ( element ) all the time, she would soon learn to burn her whole body && not just her hand’ s && arm’ s. s.h.i.e.l.d. had already made her a special leotard suit for that && she was to wear it, at all time’ s just in case, she were to burn straight through her clothes. ( how embarrassing ).

He’d heard of her in passing whispers, little secrets shared in the dark. She could shine as bright as stars, they’d said, and burn the skin right off your bones. His debriefing said as much, but how true were those rumors? Could the heat of her glares alone really burn a man into ash? Illya hadn’t any desire to find out - not firsthand.

“Threatening your partner on first day is poor manners.” Now that’s putting it lightly. “And very inappropriate.”

#pyrokinetics #( v: the years pass and bodies fall. )#( jumps in?? )

oftwentyeight:

❝ Only if they are intelligent, ❞ she sighs.

The work can alter perception, it requires precision in motivation. She is not always driven by money or patriotism or arrogance but somehow innately even after being placed in a program which pitted her against those like her she found something else. Natasha takes debts seriously. For all she may bemoan about working best alone, that wasn’t the case tonight. The fact that he brushes it off as NOTHING is cause for even more of a stir. She regards debts as top priority, he might say there is no debt. It also may be true she would have found a way out of her predicament one way or another ( she usually does ) but it doesn’t matter.

Their native tongue seems more fitting, somehow. To convey a point without over-sentimentalization, for precision. Her fingers work much in the same way as she leans forward slightly, pressing against calloused knuckles and applying pressure. Not quite a hold but somewhere in the same neighborhood. ❝ спасибо. ❞

Intelligent? "I would not bet on this,” Illya answered easily, his humor subtle.

She needn’t feel the burden of repayment. Natasha thrived alone, was her deadliest when no one dragged her down, but even shackled to someone, to a liability, she was ruthless. Exceptional. Tonight, with or without Agent Kuryakin, she would have done just fine. Why pay him back for something that was inevitable?

Hearing her Russian, Illya felt her gratitude keenly, one she favored with a simple touch. “Нет проблем,” he reassured. “We are partners. It was never a choice.” Because helping became an instinct, not an obligation, a gut feeling he had to act on. She owed him nothing. Grabbing some bandages to wrap around her wound, Illya said, “You would have done the same for me.” Either covering him or tending to his injuries - it did not matter. Meeting her gaze, finishing his work, he amiably stated, "This makes us even."

#oftwentyeight #( v: iron heart & iron grip. )#they are so civil to each other. had it been anyone else illya probably would have thrown the kit at their face and say 'get working'.#this... truly is a miracle. )#( :') tovarisch. )

Tell me more about modern Illya and his tattoo sleeves, I need to hear about it.

Y’all cruel. I mean, if we’re really going to entertain this idea, let’s entertain this idea.

I imagine if modern!Illya ever had a tattoo sleeve, it would speak for his personality, or how he makes himself out to be. There would be order in his ink, something clean yet striking and bold all the same. It is effective and says the most with as little as possible, just like him. I envision something all black, a subdued and simple palette as opposed to something grandiose; he is a quiet man and does not draw attention.

With images, I think of stamp-like impression, shapes that are all black (styles such as this). I see animals, and I liken Illya a lot to a wolf, so I envision that on his arm (like this imagery). There can be whole block of black, even images of snapping tree branches, dark skies, and eerie woods. I imagine a single portrait, an art piece, that says a lot as opposed to many different pieces to convey a story (like this but less detail). The art styles make it look so orderly, but something is restless or chaotic about them–sorta like Illya himself. Also, as a note, I do like Illya in a half-sleeve more, one that predominately rests on his forearm and feathers out just a touch to his upper arm. He only has one sleeve, this one on his right. His left arm is bare save for the Хаммер on his wrist.

…Now I want to draw this. THANKS.

#ib0028 #( what ticks. )#( secured channel. )#( look what uve done iris. thanks anna. u enabler. )

hxwlett:

one. two. three. four. counting heartbeats in silence, no longer caring for the man that acted as if his motives were what kept the earth in it’s rotation … logan had lost all understanding of his chirped rebuttals as she trained on the approaching palpitations. teeth ground down in an effort to prevent her speaking, letting him have his time in the light but, something in his expression shifted, and logan knew that he had caught on to what waited for them in the shadows. neither moved, an unspoken acknowledgement towards threat but, in the end, only one of them would ever survive if it remained unchecked ;; she was at a precipe, awaiting decision making that could set forward a particular set of events when she watched his finger twitch it was clear what she was to do.

she sprinted past her previous point of concern with claws at the ready, capturing vague light and displaying her adamant as she breezed past him towards their attacker ;; two gun shots rang out in symphony. one came from him, her sudden ally, with the other finding the brunt of her forehead as the man responded with fear to the approaching woman. a snarl rang out, only furthering her need for reciprocated violence, until she was sated when her claws found the hollow of the man’s chest. she descended along with him, ending on top of his quickly fading form, with snapped jaw and a growl that would have indicated she was more than a simple mercenary.

Gunfire ruptured the silence, its piercing crack rousing the dead of the night. Quickly, Illya threw himself to the ground, expecting a bullet to tear his skin or bore in his bones, but it never came. Couldn’t come. Turning his head, Illya saw her - saw it? - standing above the enemy guard, claws stained red with blood and gore. He stared, paralyzed.

God, standing there, teeth bared and alive, she truly did look like an animal. Would she turn on him? Would it be wise to put her down, to even try?

His thoughts soon died, smothered under the sudden blare of alarms. “We cannot stay!” Illya shouted as he got back up, grabbing the file and rushing to the exit. “I know of shortcut!” Follow me. And they’d make make their way out, but at the turn of a corner, facility’s sirens distant, Illya moved on her, finding her wrists before forcing them both to a wall. He didn’t forget those claws, gun still in hand. “Stop,” he growled, the two just scantly avoiding the sweep of searchlights. But this wasn’t all good intent, was it? “I saw what you did to that man. You are no common mercenary.” His grip tightened, eyes intense. “You should be dead.” He’d heard that ricochet, that clang! of a bullet. “Who are you.”

#hxwlett #( v: iron heart & iron grip. )#( whispers illya is lowkey terrified of what the hell just happened )#( lowkey terrified... and lowkey impressed/intrigued/fascinated but MOSTLY lowkey terrified. )

tinybritishspy:

Now this was a taunt. The corner of her mouth lifted into a full blown smirk at his expression. He was always so surprised.

“I beg to differ,” Gaby teased and got up from her chair. Running a hand along his bicep, she moved it towards the crook of his arm before tugging insistently.

This was against some rule of nature, Illya was sure, to succumb so easily to someone so much smaller than he was. He dwarfed her, towered over her, and still he rose as commanded, moved as told. What a mystery.

Carefully, Illya straightened his arms, let his hands settle gently on the curves of her waist. “No,” came his reply, short and sweet. “Tonight, we do this properly.” Taking one step to his right, Illya pulled her with him, close, an effortless sweep both fluid and light. He was... Dancing? ”I have learned new moves.” What a delightful twist.

#tinybritishspy #( v: iron heart & iron grip. )#( well given how big illya is she can just use him as a king sized mattress.#why are they like this i ask you? so adorable? illya will dance her and court her LIKE. A. GENTLEMAN. then kiss her. shh. secret. )#( illyas arms have to be straightened out cuz he is just so tall that her hips are just SO FAR AWAY. )

whatever you do, do NOT imagine a modern illya with tattoo sleeves

oh. god.I AM NOT HAVING THIS CONVERSATION. BYE.

#solofide #( secured channel. )#( ooc. )#( despicable iris.#do not turn my love for tattoos against me. i can only experience so much attraction before i actually die. )

Illya’s Tattoo. In the film, viewers can see Illya has some ink on the inside of his left wrist. You can see it primarily when he is in the plane with Waverly and Napoleon, moving to take a peek at his watch before remembering it’d been stolen (sorry for the horrific quality).

It says Хаммер, which is Cyrillic for Hammer. Now, it isn’t primarily the word for hammer, restricted to name usage (to the best of my knowledge), so why Illya would have Хаммер on his wrist could just be the fault of failing to cover Armie’s ink.

Regardless, that doesn’t dismiss the fact that film!Illya, though unintentionally, has the Хаммер tattoo (and, to be honest, I don’t want to ignore it because I do love myself the idea of Illya with a tattoo). To explain this, I will say that his mother’s surname is Хаммер, and, as we all know, Illya cherishes his mother greatly (also, irony, because hammer... Illya is communist -- sickle and hammer? Horrible).

#( what ticks. )#( HEYO. )#( give me inked illya any day idc how small )

ib00-28:

“Yes, it is something one has to think about, Illya.” She retorted, the little fall in the cadence on her voice was a crack that the unnamed feeling churning in her guts needed to show up. The clouded thoughts came and went like the pull of waves against the shore, rubbing the sand over open wounds on the coast. “Because that man could be me, you or Solo. It’s not the fact that he’s dead that’s bugging me… Not just that of course.”

Gaby sighed, her spine finally bowing down to the pressure as the elbows slipped until they were resting against bent knees and her head fell forward, not quite meeting Illya’s shoulder.

It was so easy to pretend that every job will consist of bickering and a healthy amount of adrenaline that deaths looked almost otherworldly in their routine, when it actually was a possibility looming over every corner—but she never gave herself the time to think about it or the string of fallen bodies left behind. “I’m OK,” That was obviously a lie, but it was already a start. “this is like that annoying skin on your thumb. You know that it is there and you have to pull it. You know it’s going to hurt but you pull it anyway and the pain is always different. It will sting for a while.” Gaby raised her head, a tired smile painted on colorless lips. “And one day it will happen again, but that will pass just like every other time, right?”

She wasn’t wrong. They were locked in a wicked dance with death, and a single misstep is all it’d take to end the show. It chased their every step, desperate to pull them in and swallow them whole-- That was the nature of the best, and at the curtain call, it’d cradle them in its arms, body bloody and broken, life snuffed out like an extinguished flame. Spies like them knew of this relationship with death; they couldn’t deny its possibilities.

But Gaby did not like the knowledge that they could die, and her weariness hurt him, an ache growing in his chest. “This will not happen.”

Reaching forward, his hand was a comforting weight on her shoulder. “As long as I am here, you are safe.” Who was he to make such a claim? He said it with such sincerity, however, and, God, it was a tempting promise to believe. But Illya was the best, fearsome and strong, so one had to wonder: Was it him who was more frightening or death? Hunched over, Illya looked kindly to his partner, touch soothing as he rubbed near the crook of her neck. “Do not worry.” The words were close, feathering against her skin. “You'll handle this.” You, because she was stubborn and strong. “And I am nearby.” I, because he’d help if needed, and no harm would come to her. “Always.”

#ib0028 #( v: iron heart & iron grip. )#( please neve say amlemrica again.#i'm a law abiding citizen and pay my taxes. you dont have to brutalize me. )

faithfulx:

A delectable cup of ground beans was all a blessing to Donna’s routine Tuesday brunch; but frankly, not enough to enjoy, because the man that was seated across from her clearly huffed and puffed his way over here. It’s no question, he was truly sucking the fun out of it and she didn’t have the entire morning to do this. There was work afoot.—– In perfect time, her mug silently descends as strangers pass him by.

❛ You know ? coming to a coffee shop isn’t precisely where i’d get my frustrations out. but i’d CERTAINLY think twice about it when you’re sitting next to a woman who’s slowly losing her cool with your resting rage face; and ISN’T spending her ( only ) fifteen minutes, just to be distracted by the “circus act” that blood vessel on the side of your head is going to pull. ❜ Her legs cross underneath the table. ❛ If you DON’T plan on drinking, then leave the rest of us to sip, the hell , in peace—— ❜

One had to wonder about her breed of people -- rude and tactless, as infuriating as his patience was thin. Where did she learn her manners? Illya’s attention snapped forward, a pair of hard eyes settling heavily on her, surprise first and displeasure second.

She disliked his quiet fury, stressed and overworked, perhaps, but nothing he was unfamiliar with. Spies. Sitting there, Illya studied her for a beat of a second, managing polite as he explained, “I am meeting someone.” Beside her, he was a fragile cool, a frigid composure against her hot temper. “This should be no trouble.” And it really shouldn’t be, but she’d no problem with disputes, did she? Looking away, Illya ordered his coffee. “Do not make it one.”

#faithfulx #( v: the years pass and bodies fall. )#( im sorry i reblogged this incomplete way earlier.#donna why u so mean to nice russian man. he also has had a bad day. :( )

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

Kuryakin.