bruisedconscience

[bruisedconscience]

himst

[bruisedconscience]

“Usually, when I dream of a woman before I meet her, it’s supposed to be taken as a compliment,” he crooned toward her. “But admittedly…this wasn’t the usual fare, for me. There was a device we were collecting…from some very bad people…and I don’t know that you liked me very much at the time?” Napoleon chuckled.

“That’ll teach me to enjoy a nightcap like that one again, ey?”

It's happening again.

She nervously chuckles when they mention that they dreamed of her. To anyone else, that might indicate that perhaps the other person was thinking a lot about you; for Rhoda that meant that somehow, a part of her visited them in the night.

That part of her frightened her; it was impulsive, angry, clawing. Rhoda wets dry lips before continuing, attempting to appear casual. "I mean, we should talk about it at least...Right?" She needs to know what happened.

[bruisedconscience]

Illya hummed and tapped his shoe against the stone floor.

“Yes, they took all my shit, too.” His tone is lightly teasing, a Ukrainian lilt often mistaken for Russian. He gave his cellmate a curious look.

“A vaporizer? Like…the pot you can use to spread medication into the air when you have a head cold…?” He eyed said pocket like it would bite him. “You have a gun cartridge in… Oi, whatever…” Illya reached inside and pulled out…a small stick.

“…Is this your communicator?” The vape looked a lot like his communicator pen from UNCLE… Maybe this too was an UNCLE agent?

He inspected the device more closely and almost dropped it, stunned to see liquid at its helm. “Is that an atomizer! How is it so small? I—” He murmured a handful of swears in another language and sighed, shaking his head, before working on getting the cart free and open, setting it up on the cell floor and starting to unlace one of his shoes.

“Yes, why ruin the mystery of your inexplicable and unhelpful arrival…”

Illya sighed and grimaced again, loosening the restraints around his wrists. At least their captors were cheap— the rope, though scratchy and painful, was easy enough to undo.

Illya got his hands free with a soft, triumphant noise and moved to the bars of their cell, the heavy lock encased in metal. He cradled his chin and surveyed it a moment.

“You don’t have any perfume on your person, do you? Or—solvent, something—a liquid?”

[bruisedconscience]

saving as draft for take 2

yeah!!! can’t delete test 2 (banner method trim) from drafts!!!!! i want out. let me out!!!!

test 1

[bruisedconscience]

test 3

wow so i really can’t delete the previous reblogs (test 2 above) AFTER i have drafted a post. i would always need to reply in the same moment…

once again, i don’t really like it here as a mobile-only writer ❤️ ☹️

test 1

[bruisedconscience]

test 2

test 1

[bruisedconscience]

test 1

[bruisedconscience]

“I think everybody’s got somethin’ to say. Karaoke, open mic…sometimes it’s just nerve-wracking, and I can understand that…” Ted nods like he’s just confirmed a sacred oath.

“Mm? Oh! You heard right, I’m not from this side’a the pond. I’m from the good ol’ U.S. of A., from Kansas City. You ever been? You look like a Royals fan—and as always, I do mean that as a compliment.”

the creation of adam - ted & nadine

[bruisedconscience]

“Yes, why ruin the mystery of your inexplicable and unhelpful arrival…”

Illya sighed and grimaced again, loosening the restraints around his wrists. At least their captors were cheap— the rope, though scratchy and painful, was easy enough to undo.

Illya got his hands free with a soft, triumphant noise and moved to the bars of their cell, the heavy lock encased in metal. He cradled his chin and surveyed it a moment.

“You don’t have any perfume on your person, do you? Or—solvent, something—a liquid?”

you just expect me to sit here and not ask questions? — from Illya!

@bruisedconscience

nadine is really used to the whole wrong place, wrong time kind of thing. what they are not used to, though, is ending up anywhere so important. they don't know the context of anything, simply that they had popped through space and time in such a perfect way that they'd gotten this guy caught by some not so nice people. and they'd been dragged along with him, because now it's decided that they work with him.

the whole thing is kind of annoying, but getting locked up in a cell had been on the bucket list. now they just had to accomplish the other half, which was getting out of said cell.

"uh, well, i was kinda hoping that you wouldn't." nadine says with a shrug, as they have looking over just about every surface. there isn't many, but they had seen plenty of movies where people dig their way out of places. and they often said that they "had that dog in them". maybe this would be their chance to prove it.

"my charm is like... entirely wrapped up in the mystery. who wants to ruin that?"

[bruisedconscience]

new muse - illya kuryakin

bc i cannot be stopped & i’ll probably also add solo at some point too

30-45

trans man

grayro demi (maybe sapio don’t @ him)

dumb blond

U.N.C.L.E. agent (a spy who pretends he’s a cop)

tech whiz and little espionage acrobat

strictly from the 60s, sorry 2015 lovelies

[bruisedconscience]

“What…made you think about that movie out of nowhere? Are they rebooting it…?”

@bruisedconscience continued from here

"You're right, I forgot about that."

[bruisedconscience]

“…Prince Aladdin from the Disney movie?”

"What the fuck is a Labubu?"

[bruisedconscience]

Zach swallowed and glanced around. “Uhh fine… He wants to sell off some masks. But that’s all I know!”

“I don’t know anything about it! The guy came in asking for a commercial, and I’m really not supposed to talk about it anyway, we have client confidentiality— like a shrink!” — from Zach Cropper

There's a scoff at excuses. Because that's all it sounds like to him. "I don't give a fuck about your confidentiality, I just want the answer to my fucking question."

[bruisedconscience]

“Yeah, the more I hang about here the less I feel safe an’ all…”

Steven’s mouth squirmed uncomfortably, but he got the sense that he wouldn’t be allowed to head home to the comfort of his bed (complete with ankle restraint and dodgy home security system) until this bloke saw the terrible jackal…

“Suit yourself, mate! Eh?” He pat the man’s shoulder and then, pausing just to make sure the man wasn’t kidding and he really needed to…he led the stranger back toward where the jackal was currently eating an empty, stalled car. “Fine! Do ya see it now?!”

“Um, no I didn’t tell anybody.” Steven laughs as if such a suggestion were preposterous, “I ran! I ran quick as I could and nearly got me nose knocked off running into you.”

Steven blinked. “Go back there? Oh no way, mate, you’re joking! I just barely gave it the slip!”

Great. The worm is in control.

Steven glanced around briefly, looking for the source of the voice— oh, beautiful. So he was still hearing things? He really must need even more sleep than he was already getting…

[bruisedconscience]

it’s a bearable bruise on your conscience…

who are you? kris! they/them, 21+

can i write w/ you? r u 21+? let’s go!

where are you? mobile based 24/7 babey!

where r ur ask memes or like any posts at all? its all on my rp sideblog!

making rp threads shorter (trimming)? i trim using the banner method. if i start the thread and it isn’t altered with xKit, i can trim! if xKit comes into play, i lose that ability to help us out

who do you rp as? here’s the google doc! here’s the (old) muses page!

anything else? i like programming & i don’t like my day job. i’m very sporadicly available but if we click i wanna yell at u abt our characters kissing or fighting ok!! ok bye bye

loudest muse(s):

they are all asleep, i’m in fanfic writing mode instead of rp mode.

except Zach is apparently always horn knee available

current fixation:

the man from uncle tv show! pls come talk to me abt it!!! :)

[bruisedconscience]

Ever the loyal dog, Victor didn’t fight the smile. Roman did as Roman wanted, one of the rules.

Just like keeping him from destroying his own fuckin’ progress some days.

That made him smile, finally. “Yeah, bet they have something cute.” It’d probably have an ivory handle. Roman and his pearly white shit…

He was raised by two very nice, very rich yacht company executives. And they died, and Victor didn’t like to talk about them.

“You know,” he said, keeping his voice calm and bored despite seething, “I wasn’t.”

He paused again, thinking it over. No, he didn’t like begging or asking.

“I’ll go buy a new one on my own. One’a those oil stained ones… Those’re sexy.”

[bruisedconscience]

He was raised by two very nice, very rich yacht company executives. And they died, and Victor didn’t like to talk about them.

“You know,” he said, keeping his voice calm and bored despite seething, “I wasn’t.”

He paused again, thinking it over. No, he didn’t like begging or asking.

“I’ll go buy a new one on my own. One’a those oil stained ones… Those’re sexy.”

Victor paused, his jaw working as he thought, literally chewing over the idea.

“Can I have…a new switchblade, boss?”