the red peril; @russiasredperil - Tumblr Blog

You know you were thinking the same.

edhelarchive-deactivated2021072

im not passive-aggressive. im just aggressive. i dont even know what passive means. ill fucking kill you

littlechopshxp‌ :

Gaby tries to avoid the lingering glances, the stares that burned angry knowing what happened to her. She’s fine, it’s just bruises and she came out mostly unscathed. There were more marks than met the eye and she has every plan to keep most of them hidden from either one of the boys. The last thing she needs is a livid Russian on her hands. “Hm, we’ll see how well it is,” Gaby chides playfully after hearing the menu. Without a doubt, Solo was perhaps the best cook amongst the three of them (though she’d never tell him that, his ego would not allow him to fit through the door.

She gives a smile to Illya in an effort to calm the storm that seems to be brewing behind his gaze, turning the ocean blue of his eyes into something far darker. She slides in easily as he allows the chair and pats his hand gently.

Gaby remains mostly quietly for the remainder of dinner, drinking one too many glasses of wine before she finally decides to retire for the evening – fatigue and injury finally taking its toll on her. It’s only until she hears the stairs creaking with Illya’s weight does she poke her head out of the door, smiling softly, “Can I…join…you?”

It’s unfair how she can disarm him with a smile, particularly one that is plainly insincere, and more unfair still that he can feel it working. The soft spot he has for her had been a seed that budded rapidly, flowering before he so much as realized what it was, though Solo would grandly claim that he knew it from the moment the two of them met. It’s ridiculous, but then, so is the flutter of such a large and heavy heart, as if it were a fragile winged insect.

Illya, too, remains mostly quiet during their meal, leaving Napoleon to carry the lazy line of idle dialog. If he notices something is not quite right, he is tactful enough not to draw attention just yet; small mercies, considering his tendency to needle the Russian relentlessly any chance he gets.

He allows her to go without further pressing after dinner, and remains in the kitchen to help clear the table and deal with the dishes. Illya’s always slightly more amiable after a good meal, and there’s no denying that for something so sickeningly decadent, his partner’s culinary repitoire almost never fails to please. It’s only when he’s trudging upstairs that he allows his mind to wander again, and almost as though she knows he’s thinking about her, Gaby appears.

“Yes,” he says simply, more mystified than anything. “Of course.”

He intends to wash and go to bed, possibly sit up reading for awhile, and hadn’t even anticipated her still being awake. Thinking perhaps she might want to recant on her refusal to fill him in on the more infuriating details of her encounter, he stands there waiting a moment, as if giving her the opportunity to either invite him inside, or steal away into his room; honestly, he doesn’t know whether the former or latter would be less appropriate.

#littlechopshxp

so-touchingly-loyal‌ :

Her eyebrow arches as she catches his stumble. Every human being is a puzzle of need. It’s a phrase that was repeated over and over again, drilled into her mind by her late mentor, and the very basis of her skill set, and she can see the yearning that lies behind the suspicion in his eyes.

She backs away from him. Her shoulders fall back, slack and relaxed, and her features soften as she lets her predatory facade fade away. It’s something she’s learned to do quickly, to hide her true nature and become whatever it is the other person needs her to be in the moment. She knows he will still be rightfully suspicious, but the subconscious is not as easily defended against minute changes in body language and the microexpressions of the face.

“Yes. Ivanteyevka.” she smiles warmly, as if looking back fondly, as she gives him the name of the small village outside Moscow that served as her prison for so many years.

“I am merely here to inform you that you are officially under new management,”

It is not the first time he has been spoken to this way; not the first time someone has attempted to lay claim on him for the sake of using him as a pawn and harnessing the power inherent in his unique skill set, without traversing the proper channels. Illya knows he has not been re-assigned, that he has not been traded away to some other organization, and his expression is a solid wall of stubborn refusal.

UNCLE does not know of this. His handlers in Russia do not know of this. What he must find out, and quickly, is who might be pulling the strings here and what exactly they want him for. Is THRUSH making some thinly veiled attempt at re-branding? Is a new contender stepping into the arena? If anyone expects him to spy on his own people, or to overthrow the organization that has of late treated him with the utmost care and respect, they will be sorely disappointed.

“So. Someone new is making decisions for me? Signing my checks? This is news to me.” Illya can see what she’s doing - what she’s done - and while he recognizes all manner of techniques designed to alter a person’s image without doing all that much, it has always been something he has had trouble accomplishing himself. Indeed, he’s rigid as ever, posture at once aggressive and defensive, as if he does not trust her not to attack, and wishes to display his own viciousness first in case it should act as an effective deterrent.

“Why has this mysterious new boss not come to speak with me himself?”

@so-touchingly-loyal

#500 years later #sotouchinglyloyal

whatmyhobbiteyessee

every mission becomes a date if you take your love interest with you.

#x. international cooperation || illya x napoleon #x. trying not to get lost || illya x gaby #x. it was always real || illya x mercy

astrosoeur

the signs as russian words

Aries: Bespredel - translates to "without limits or boundaries”, the chaotic behaviour of a person who violates not only the law, but also moral and social norms.

Taurus: Poshlost - something that is simultaneously trivial, vulgar, lewd and soulless.

Gemini: Smekalka - one of the typical features of the “mysterious Russian soul”: it’s not just being savvy, ingenious or inventive - it’s the skill to solve problems quickly and simply in imaginative ways.

Cancer: Stushevatsya - means to become less noticeable, go to the background, lose an important role, noticeably leave the scene, become confused in an awkward or unexpected situation, become meek.

Leo: Podvig - translates to “achievement”, not just a result, or the achievement of an objective; it’s a brave and heroic act, an action performed in difficult circumstances.

Virgo: Bytie - translates to “being”, and hints at hyper-consciousness or an objective and analytical mindset.

Libra: Avos - believed to be the main Russian national trait, it is contrary to “The American Dream”. Hoping for the avos’ means doing something without planning, without putting in much effort, counting on success.

Scorpio: Nadryv - an uncontrollable emotional outburst, when a person releases intimate, deeply hidden feelings.

Sagittarius: Nedoperepil - “under-over-drunk”, having drunk more than you should have, but less than you could have.

Capricorn: Khamstvo - Rudeness, arrogance and insolence, multiplied by impunity.

Aquarius: Perepodvypodvert - doing something in an overly complex, incomprehensible way.

Pisces: Toska - an ache of the soul, longing with nothing to long for.

#illya is a leo #interesting coincidence

lyquidmetal-a

Welcome back to my favorite Illya @russiasredperil !!!

Currently in between assignments, she had returned to Seattle, sometime two weeks ago in late march. Being in the city for the first time since her internment was odd, but it meant she would finally get to see her family in a while. Even if she was on the short leash of the CIA.

Currently she was out on one of her few unaccompanied journeys around the city, settled in on the veranda of a small cafe, reading while the family dog lay at her feet. Turning the page she refused to look up at the stiffs in suits that approached the table until one of them, venom in their tone, growled at her to stop being insolent.

Her eyes glossed over the familiar figures of her two ‘bosses’ and took their time to study the men that accompanied them. She recognized Alexander Waverly immediately, since they had met on many an occasion and corresponded briefly by letter. The man next to him was a mystery to her. Tall, Brooding, possibly slavic, interesting…

“Did you read the file we sent to your room yesterday?” Her handler prodded.

“Yes, i did, but i was under the impression i wasn’t going to meet the man in the middle of my vacation.” this ‘attitude’ was par for the course with any interaction with the men in charge of her. She might have been insolent, but she was also hard to replace, which meant she could get away with a certain extent of sass.

“Well, there has been an important development that needs somewhat immediate action.” Waverly piped up. “Though, afterwards i don’t think anyone would be opposed to you taking a small break.”

She smiled, folding in the corner of the page she was on and closing her book, she stood.

“So im on loan for the time being?” Her head tilted to her commanders, smile going wider at their affirmative answer. “And this is my partner.”

She stood in front of the taller man, hands on her hips, craning her head to look the man in the eye since he probably was a foot taller than she was.

“This will be interesting…”

russiasredperil

Illya is a man with very little patience for games, and though he has learned over the years not to judge a book by its cover (as they say), he cannot help but make the rather bold assumption that he is in for an extraordinary amount of frustration. He will be the first to declare the benefits of going solo, to insist he works far more efficiently on his own without having to spare the time and effort for babysitting, but he also knows better than to put up a fuss while his superiors are present. Present, and likely testing him.

Truth be told, his new associate is not the first place his gaze had come to rest; the dog resting at her feet had drawn his eye first, and he watches it with something like unabashed wistfulness before that gaze turns laser-focus and he is able to settle wholly into the mindset necessary for work. Dogs, as much as they appeal to him, are not enough to distract him.

“For now,” he allows, back straight as he stands tall, claiming his full height. Illya has never liked being given the onceover, even if he is given to doing much the same when meeting the acquaintance of someone new. His expression is far from open, but at least Waverly’s consistent chiding has rid him - temporarily - of the habit of meeting newcomers with arms tightly crossed. Instead his hands are jammed into the pockets of his jacket, and he remains still as the girl gets a good look at him.

“This is temporary arrangement only,” he says curtly, though if he had his way he would leap headlong into the proposed mission without bothering to relax. Not that he truly knows how, anyway, and he knows his inclination toward working until he drops is not universally embraced. His new partner likely needs a break, and he can’t begrudge her that. After all, she is slender, fragile looking, and half his size. Possibly less.

“After, you are free to...” His gaze wanders pointedly toward the small assembly of items at her table. Leisure. “Return to vacation.”

This is, apparently, his way of being amiable. She will notice he’s made no move to extend the hand of friendship, or even to ask after her name, her credentials, or her health. There is no need; it had all been in her file, after all.

#lyquidmetal #hey!!!!!#this took 5000 years!!!!#v sorry fam

[ooc]

Hey, here’s a question for you.

You know what makes a blog run smoothly in one’s absence?

Putting all your stuff into the queue, instead of back into your drafts. Like me. Like this guy.

A N Y W A Y.

The mistake has been rectified. Hey. S’up.

#x. out of patience || ooc

Okay, so!

[ooc]

Trying to make my comeback. I only have a handful of threads in my tracker and I’m going to list them here for you now, and tag each person I have said threads with, so they can decide whether or not they’d like to continue. No pressure! Just let me know, so I can update my tracker and do my best to get and remain organized.

I Owe

@littlechopshxp x4 @mercuryblcke x1 @so-touchingly-loyal x1 @lyquidmetal x1 So I’m gonna go ahead and reply to those, and if you’re not interested in continuing, just let me know! People Who Owe Me

@mcngoose x1 @joe-lambe x1 @theymakehistory x2 (There are only two in my tracker... I think we only kept those?)

These have all been sitting for a really long time, so (and I cannot stress this enough) if you no longer want to continue these, just shoot me an ask or hit me up in IMs and I’ll remove them from my tracker. Thanks!

#x. out of patience || ooc

russiasredperil

Rules of the Game

russiasredperil

mercuryblcke‌:

Trembling fingers pull back when he finally moves and her form stiffens. It’s not that she doesn’t want this, she does, but the fear of what it might entail has her shivering as he leans down to kiss her. The weight of his frame barely touching hers makes her heart beat faster, blood pounding in her ears. It’s warm, perfect, and Mercy finds herself shying away, unable to fully meet his intense gaze.

Fingers barely gaze the dip of his sternum, heavy, unnerved breaths she’s unable to hide are obvious. Everything about this is perfect. He’s gentle, and barely started and Mercy feels her stomach twist. Mercy knows she’s being silly, that Illya would never hurt her, but she cant quiet find the words to tell him how afraid she is. The situation could end up with her having her heart broken, and the idea of being so very intimate maybe be something she craves, but it’s also something that riles up a very deep-rooted fear.

Finally, Mercy manages to pull away from his kisses, skin flushed and eyes turned away from his. She owes him the knowledge at least to why she’s so shaky. “W-Wait…” The word is hushed, fear palpable in her tone. “I-Illya you should know…I-I’ve never…done this…”

“I suspected.” Of all things, there’s a very gentle expression on his face now; a smile that looks at once genuinely warm and marginally awkward. Where he comes from, such casual affairs are not as common as in other parts of the world, embraced by cultures more loose and adventurous than his own. He is not inexperienced himself, but many women he has known, if not most of them, had remained untouched until they had been married or at the very least, betrothed.

Such a life is not meant for him, he’d always believed, or people like him. Illya does not imagine himself a married man with children to look after, nor does he take anything for granted; people in his line of work rarely live to meet their potential life expectancy, and in this case this applies to both himself and to Mercy.

Perhaps even moreso for her.

“Are you afraid?” It’s little more than a whisper, and as soon as she had spoken up, Illya had ceased all touching. He can hover here all night if he likes, but he won’t press for anything more should she change her mind. It had been her suggestion - her request - in the first place, and should she chose to turn him away now he will go gracefully.

#mercuryblcke

hopepunk-suggestions

all my life, i have yearned to be soft, but all i have ever got to do is fight

#x. all i do is feel || sentiment

mcngoose‌:

Will knew he should be minding his own business but somehow, teasing a complete stranger seemed to be staving off his boredom a bit. “Oh I am definitely the suspicious one, that’s why I was so good at pointing you out — Relax I’m kidding.” Will sighed, head turning at the sound of laughter in the park.

Graham’s sense of humor was not for everyone to start with and it seems like he’d just angered this man a bit. Still, there was something off about him. Will hadn’t been joking about finding him a bit suspicious. He did this sort of thing for a living but it might be best not to point it out. He’d seen the reaction it go him and that did tell him something.

“You want to pet my dog? – Technically I’m not supposed to let anyone pet him when he’s working but eh.”

It’s a question that throws him off quite a bit; his shoulders tense and tighten only to release, hands a bit slack when before they’d wanted to ball themselves into fists. A hostile stranger had rapidly turned the tables, and unlike many hostiles he is so used to coming into contact with, this one seems to suffer from what might be seen as some to be a bad attitude, and nothing more. Even so, he’d decided to switch tactics; could it be he regrets needlessly needling the Russian?

Illya should not pet this dog. He knows better than anyone that these casual, harmless-seeming offers can easily reveal themselves to be traps, and this is aside from the universally understood notion that working animals are not to be disturbed while they are on shift, much like their human counterparts.

Illya makes his way slowly over, attempting and failing to embody the very essence of the casual encounter, but it is difficult for a man like him to avoid being looked at. He tips his head down to observe the dog, who looks mostly harmless to him, and is halfway ashamed by the soft feelings these creatures always provoke within him.

Yes. Yes, he wants to pet this dog very much.

“Hello,” he says softly as he carefully extends curled knuckles to the dog. “Vy khoroshaya sobaka?“

#mcngoose