#muse: illya

[joyfulmagic]

Send " ❗❗❗ " for your muse to suddenly and unexpectedly kiss mine. (For Illya)

@frombehindpaleeyes // Anne xx Illya

Illya felt Anne’s lips against his, surprised initially then smiling into the kiss. As their lips parted, Illya chuckled, “guess I’m out of the dog house?” He jested, knowing she’d been upset that he’d gone on a mission longer than expected and been unable to contact her. He put his forehead to hers gently, gazing into her brilliant eyes and holding her hands tenderly.

“I really am sorry I wasn’t able to tell you the mission would take a few extra days — it was a confidential operation, so we didn’t have any communication with anyone aside from each other,” Illya explained to her now that she wasn’t as upset.

[magnificentmuses]

“You seem to be good friends with Miyu.” Illya have a very nervous Violet. “W-what are things she likes?” Maybe ask the girl yourself instead of her friend you idiot

"Uh...that's something you're better off asking her about, not me...?" Illya was, of course, quick to point that out.

[joyfulmagic]

@truedarkhcld // @ccmplicatedweb // @frombehindpaleeyes // @ofgunsandlipstick

Tommy x Lizzie — PEAKY BLINDERS S05E03

[joyfulmagic]

Open Starter — Muse: Illya Kuryakin Verse: Modern Man Loosely based on “Elephant Love Medley” from Moulin Rouge

“Love is complicated for men like me,” Illya commented, taking a drag of his cigarette before snubbing it out as to avoid giving his companion second hand smoke. “I’ve been dead to the world for so long, I cannot imagine how dating would go,” he scoffed, shaking his head dismissively at the thought of him dating someone.

“Love is a beautiful thing, yes. I’ve even experienced it once, but that was a long time ago,” Illya confessed, sadness filling his eyes as he thought of his lost love. Arina had turned out to be alive, but she was different and no longer the woman he’d loved as a younger man.

[tarot-muses]

ahhhh im still alive im sorry i fell into marv/el ri/vals

[radarsteddybear]

You've heard of the SCTV parody of To Sir, With Love starring Eugene Levy as Ricardo Montalban as Sidney Poitier's character. Now get ready for...a new To Sir, With Love parody starring...somebody...as David McCallum's Illya Kuryakin. Because reasons.

[joyfulmagic]

@truedarkhcld // @ofgunsandlipstick // @ccmplicatedweb // @frombehindpaleeyes //

REIGN S01E19 • Toy Soldiers

[multimuseticles]

"Imagine having a little brat as your blog icon."

[twinxmasters-archived]

"Violence doesn't solve anything? I think if you're thorough enough, you can solve any problem with violence."

[thebreakfastmuses]

"Half a year later, does Fischl still not appreciate my birthday present to her?"

[joyfulmagic]

”You may wish to look up the card to understand better,” Illya suggested to the two Holmeses. “Odd, he must have a mole in your people to know I’d be working with Miss Holmes, for we only started working together earlier today,” Illya pointed out to Mycroft, who grimaced at the observation.

Illya raised a brow at Amelia, not having seen in her file that she knew how to defuse bombs. He had to be curious how she learned all that she had, for her fathers couldn’t know all of this and feel ready to teach their daughter this. He knew how protective his mother and adoptive mother had been of him regarding such things despite his fascination with spy work at a young age.

“I am as well, much as I’d like to think it is a copy cat,” Illya backed Amelia immediately, feeling a sense of loyalty to her for putting up with their arrangement now. “I think he is building his web up again, or it was never truly destroyed. Cut off the head of a hydra and two more replace it,” Illya mentioned.

Mycroft scowled, not pleased that his new ‘pet’ was siding with his niece. “Well, then my resources are at your disposal Amelia,” Mycroft told them, lighting up a cigarette as he spoke. Illya forced himself not to react to the lack of it being at both of their disposals, but he arguably WAS one of Mycroft’s resources that Amelia could utilize.

@joyfulmagic Illya & Amelia

"I didn't ask-!" Amelia shouted over the gunfire that was pelted toward the two. Hiding behind a car that was situated upon the now deserted street. Her gun in one hand as she reloaded, hazel eyes not even looking to the man beside her. She shot again, gently squeezing the trigger so her hand didn't shake, taking one of them out with a bullet to the shoulder. The intent wasn't the kill. "-for you to come along!" She finished her sentence.

Now Amelia was a good detective, her reputation preceded her just as her father's did. Consulting Detective, and also a very good agent alongside her uncle's division within MI6. Everyone knew Mycroft Holmes was practically the British Government. The young Holmes was stubborn, fiery and sometimes a little rude, yet the rudeness was made up for in intelligence. Small tattoos were etched upon her arms, the small scars across them also evident.

"Look, you can tell my uncle I can handle this myself. I don't need a bodyguard, and I certainly don't need an assistant" Pride. That was what it was. Although Mycroft was only looking out for his niece since the incident with James Moriarty and Sebastian Moran, the small slip up on their part where the daughter of probably the most famous detective had been taken, and virtually left for dead over top secret information. It was guilt that now kept Mycroft a constant eye on the brunette. "Now piss off and leave me alone, alright?"

[mvnces]

this took me a concerning amount of time to make

[joyfulmagic]

@kit-just-kit // WWII! Kit & Illya

“<Stop, you did your job,>” Illya informed Kit, taking the blade from her and cleaning it with his own handkerchief before handing it back. “<Too much attention to the details of his death will draw the N@zis right back to you,>” he warned, offering a secondary blade for Kit to keep. Changing up the way the blade severed the main artery would keep the SS detectives on their toes, compared to what seemed like a serial killer targeting male SS officers.

Illya looked down at the body, sliding a glove on so he could make sure the n@zi was deceased. “<You’re rather skilled with a blade,>” he complimented once he was certain there was no pulse, offering a small smile to Kit despite the nature of their business. It sounded like a set up for a joke — two Allied Forces spies walk into an SS bar, and they walk out alive.

“<We need to go,>” Illya suddenly added, eyes darting to the door, tossing the SS officer’s body over his shoulder with uncanny ease. He took Kit’s hand with his free one, going over to the window. “<Can you jump down to the ground from the awning, or do you need me to catch you>?” Illya asked, wanting Kit to get out of there safely. His French accent cracked during the question, a Russian one momentarily slipping through.

[deci-doodles]

A collection of doodles featuring Kyrena absolutely losing it coz I only found out recently that I’d been misspelling her name

And then HSR gave us a character named Cyrene LMAO

[dcviated]

@twinxmasters sent: "Ehm..." Illya gives a good once-over at the tainted patch of soil, rising upwards like the world's largest loaf of bread, then looks down at the now-empty bag of limestone. "Well... That... Doesn't look right..."

Six pound bags of lime don't cost all that much. Raguna makes enough to buy several of them in just a day. As far as the lawn and gardens he was tending around the Einzbern manor he'd be able to get away using just a couple bags to cover the area he'd planted. It advertises about a thousand square feet, so, yeah. Should work fine for the season. He'll fill up the spreader and--

Oh.

The displaced farmer has come outside to see that the entire contents of one bag have been applied to a fraction of that space.

"Uh.................................. Illya?" Raguna will need more than a fraction of the time to absorb what he's seeing. The soil? Ha. Ha. "Okay. The good news is it hasn't rained and washed anything in. Right. There's still time to clean most of this up..! Because otherwise this spot is going to be a new barbeque pit. So lets--"

Wait for it-

Crash of thunder~!

"G-GRAB SOME SHOVELS! BERSERKER!!! WE HAVE TO GET THAT LIME UP!"

[justabigoldnerd]

For the WIP tag game, I have to know more about number 16, the Soviet Russia Memes Incident, please!

AKHDJSSKHDJ Okay so I was inspired by these memes:

And started writing a modern crack fic where Solo and Gaby torment Illya with them 😅

Here's a snippet, under the cut!

"So," Waverly started, leaning back in his chair, "Would either of you like to tell me exactly how this happened?" He gestured between the two men vaguely.

Solo moved the icepack he was holding against his swollen eye to glance over at Illya. The Russian wasn't in much better shape; blood was drying around his nose, and a colorful bruise blossomed along his jaw. He was sitting up perfectly straight, his arms crossed and a frankly pissed expression on his face. Solo rolled his eyes and flexed his sore knuckles.

"I….may have misused the work group chat."

"'Misused,'" Illya scoffed under his breath.

"Misused, how?" Waverly prompted.

"In my defense," Solo drawled as he wrangled his phone from the inner pocket of his blazer, "They were hilarious."

A crease formed in Waverly's brow as he accepted the phone, but as he scrolled through the seemingly endless number of messages, his confusion gave way to annoyance. "To be perfectly honest, Mr. Solo, I am impressed at just how many of these you were able to find."

"I made a few of them myself," he preened, "I'm particularly fond of the 'in Soviet Russia, its not iPhone, its OURPhone' one."

"Is not funny," Illya grumbled.

"Right. Mr. Solo, I believe some sensitivity training is in order. However, I don't believe the onslaught of memes warranted an assault. So, in lieu of a harsher penalty, I'll just have you apologize to each other."

Solo huffed, and looked to Illya, who mirrored his indignation.

Waverly leaned forward again and clicked his pen threateningly, "Or would you prefer paperwork only for a month?"

With a sigh, Solo shifted in his chair to half-face Illya, "I'm sorry for sending you a hundred Soviet Russia memes, Peril."

"One hundred and thirty five," he corrected through gritted teeth.

"You counted?"

"When messages keep you up all night, nothing else to do but count."

"It wasn't-" Solo tried to protest, but a pointed look from Waverly made him stop short, "I'm sorry for sending you one hundred and thirty five Soviet Russia memes."

Illya's glare didn't waver in intensity, even as he tipped his head to the side and held Solo's gaze. He was silent for a few moments, then took in a deep breath and muttered, "I am sorry for punching your face. Might have been overreaction."

Solo chewed the inside of his cheek, unable to conjure much anger when he was faced with Illya's ridiculously adorable head tilt, and he had no right to be that attractive with blood smearing his face. 

"I didn't break your nose, did I?" he asked before he could stop himself, in a soft tone that made him curse inwardly. Maybe Illya had concussed him.

In a fraction of a second, something flickered behind Illya's murderous stare, and he turned away with a shrug. He cleared his throat and stared at a missed spot in the freshly polished tile. "Doesn't feel broken."

"Good," Solo nodded, an extremely unfamiliar feeling of awkwardness churning in his stomach.

"Well then," their boss cut in, sounding more like a middle school principal than the commander of an international espionage force, "Now that's all settled, Mr. Solo, I expect you to be front row at next week's sensitivity seminar. Otherwise, you're both dismissed."

"Thank you, sir," Solo beamed bitterly as he stood, "Looking forward to it."

Illya mumbled a similar acknowledgment and slunk out of the office. Once Solo shut the door behind them, he sighed and mused, "Now the only question is how did Gaby get out of this one."

"No idea," Illya shook his head, "Even screenshots I took were altered. Without my knowledge. Couldn't even track changes."

"She's getting too good at this game," Solo tsked, a bit of pride swelling in his chest nevertheless.

"Da. We make her pay."

"How do you suggest we do that?"

His partner's fingers drummed against his leg, and the muscle in his jaw jumped as he considered their options. "We take engine."

"The whole thing?"

The corner of Illya's mouth quirked up in a poorly hidden smile, "Is just bizarre enough to be good payback."

"She's gonna be pissed," Solo laughed quietly, "Hide it in rendezvous three- no, two. The storage rack in there is taller."

Illya nodded along, mischief washing away the anger in his eyes, and checked their surroundings before giving Solo's chest a pat, "Come on, Cowboy. Let's go steal an engine."