[identity profile] hypatia-66.livejournal.com
Great Episode Challenge. 15-21 September (Prompt 1)

brain040.jpg

Friends, Russians, countrymen

He ran into him on his way to meet Napoleon, who was waiting in the car down in the garage. The tall Englishman was coming out of the elevator.

“Illya, my old mucker! Good to see you again. You haven’t changed a bit. How are you?”

“Very well, thank you,” Illya replied coolly. “How are you, Mark?”

“Extremely well, and raring to go.” Mark said, and continued, chattily, “I heard you were here, of course. Never would have thought we’d end up on the same side, eh?”

That all-too familiar, breezy bonhomie of the privately-educated English male, speaking in the cut-glass accents of the upper-classes, with their implicit put-down of lesser mortals – or serfs, in his case. His old mucker, indeed. He knew what that odd expression meant now. A place at Cambridge didn’t make you equal, they made sure of that.

“No,” he replied. “It must be strange to find that even Russians take any kind of moral view of the world.”

“I didn’t mean...” said Mark awkwardly, “don’t be like that, Illya … you know how it was at Cambridge… Secret Service recruiters and all that.”

“Yes. I do know.”

Read more... )
[identity profile] jantojones.livejournal.com
A huge man towered over Illya in a threatening manner. The Russian had accidently spilled the man’s drink, and he had taken exception. He had tried smooth things over by offering to replace the drink, but the man was intent on retribution. Unfortunately, he made the mistake many people did when faced with the short, slightly built agent.

The thug was drawing his arm back to punch Illya, when he unexpectedly found himself lying on his back, with a heavily bleeding nose. Illya glared down at him.

“Next time, I suggest you accept the replacement drink when it is offered.”


.
[identity profile] lilidelafield.livejournal.com


This story is intended as a follow-on to my story “A Long Time In Coming”, from my Katiya series.

                                                      THE WIRE
He remembered the wire.

He still dreamed about the wire, almost every night.  Barbed wire fences used to keep in people as well as animals. The animals knew no better, of course. They had no idea what was coming, but the people knew very well what was in store once they found themselves on the wrong side of the barbed wire fences.

Some tried to climb the wire, but the soldiers had made sure it was high enough and sharp enough to make it impossible to climb over. Always the guards were there. Always they were spotted. Those who had climbed too high to return to the ground quickly were shot down. No one ever escaped over the wire. Those who survived the attempt were punished severely. No one ever tried a second time.
Read the story on AO3
[identity profile] mrua7.livejournal.com
You can still write a story for the PicFic that's due today, or any prompt that you've missed. I'm still catching up too! Eventually I'll have a few things to post!

This is the prompt with stories due for today.  (If you can't post today that's okay, better late than never!)

The prompt for today:




RULES of the Challenge HERE

WRITE ON!
[identity profile] mrua7.livejournal.com
PICFIC BLURB.jpg


Every Tuesday a photo prompt will be posted and you have until the following Tuesday to post your gen Man from UNCLE story. For those of you new to the challenge the rules are as follows:



Your story is Due: Tuesday September 19th. Please post on this date, but it you’re a little late, that's okay. Better late than never!


Statistical stuff: Minimum 500 words, no maximum

Subject Matter: Write a MFU story based on the photo prompt.


Posting here should fit into the GENeral concepts of the section7mfu community, contain nothing explicit
and reflects the 1960's series in style and content, featuring our brave men from U.N.C.L.E.


However, that being said, there is a GEN-mature tag option for stories that contain violence, torture,
angst or very mild het. So if your story falls under one of these categories, please use the appropriate tag(s).


Your fic. can be specifically about the prompt, featured or just mentioned in your story.


The prompt is meant to inspire!

Where to post:


Gen stories, gen-mature post in section7mfu,

Het, long term romance & AU post on our other site mfu_map_room.

All other genres post in uncle_du_jour


Subject Header: Please include in the Subject Header your title, the phrase:'For Picfic Tuesday' and the due date.

When to post:

PicFic stories post on the following Tuesday after the prompt is given. So you have a week to write your fanfic. We try to keep the postings on Tuesday so readers will know when to look for them.

You can also post a story for any previous PicFic prompt that you might have missed. Just use the tag 'picfic' to locate any older prompts. Please note the date of the original prompt if you're posting a story for an older 'PicFic.'

( FYI: previously prompts were posted on Monday, they'll now post on Tuesday of each week)


Please include the photo prompt with your story! It's easier for the reader to relate to the story when then can see the image.

Due to LJ's new user agreement issues, we recommend that you post your stories on another host site such as AO3 or Fanfiction.net or our mirror community0 Section VII on Dreamwidth and post links to them here instead of text. Still it's up to you.

Here's next week's prompt! (an UNCLE-centric one to boot!)

[identity profile] rose-of-pollux.livejournal.com
Short Affair 9/11
Prompt: Coffee
Color: Crimson

Title: There You'll Be
Author: Rose of Pollux
Word Count: ~860

Summary: Even the best agent can be haunted by nightmares; fortunately, he has a partner that can help.

Gen version is available at my DreamWidth

[identity profile] hypatia-66.livejournal.com
Sequel to The reluctant partygoer

Screenshot (5).png

Appearances can be very misleading

“Mr Kuryakin is very late,” said the Old Man sternly, looking up at his delinquent agent’s partner.

“Yes, I can’t understand it sir,” said Napoleon. “He was all right last night when he went home – said he had a date.”

“A date? Mr Kuryakin?”

“Even he sometimes likes to have fun.”

Waverley snorted. “I’ll soon give him fun,” he said, and picked up his microphone.

There was no response. “Having fun, with his communicator switched off. Against all the rules,” and he snorted again. “Go and find him.”Read more... )
[identity profile] jantojones.livejournal.com
This was written in response to a Pic Fic challenge. In it, Illya must meet a chess playing contact.

Click the original challenge pic to go to AO3.


Chess.jpg
[identity profile] lilidelafield.livejournal.com
This is one of the very first stories I ever posted on FF, oriiginally from February 2016. This version of Fear and Courage I later posted on AO3. Napoleon and Illya become trapped in a lift following an explosion, only....one of them harbours a secret....claustrophobia . . .
(The link takes you to AO3).
[identity profile] ssclassof56.livejournal.com
I wrote this last year when Hermine hit. She was a lamb compared to Irma.

Link takes you to AO3.

The Florida Affair
[identity profile] jantojones.livejournal.com
“Sit down, gentleman,” Mr Waverly instructed, without looking up from the file he was reading.

Napoleon and Illya sat in silence as they waited for their boss. Eventually, the old man gave them his attention.

“I am informed that the Section 7 secretarial pool are not filing your reports when they should be,” he told them. “Why would this be?”

“I honestly couldn’t say Sir,” Napoleon replied, with a shrug.

“I believe there are varying reasons,” Illya stated. “Many have recently had a lot more to do, some are having health issues, while others seem to be a little unmotivated. These are all things which happen in an office from time to time but, this time, it all appears to have occurred simultaneously.”

“How would either of you suggest we resolve this issue?”

A grin appeared on Napoleon’s face.

“I’m sure that, between us, Illya and I can provide inspiration.”

RV5.jpgStare.jpg
[identity profile] mrua7.livejournal.com
Taking lilidelafied up on her offer. This is a response to her drabble posted today.



Illya emerged from the ‘life-drawing’ class wearing his terry cloth robe and looking quite smug.


As expected, leaning against the opposite was was his partner who’d lied to him, telling the Russian he was going into a nice relaxing sauna...not that Illya wanted to, but when Napoleon insisted, it was hard to say no.


Solo immediately grinned. “Enjoy the sauna, I’m sure it was warm enough as you were on the hot seat.”


“Spare me your ridiculous puns. As a matter of fact I enjoyed the session; I have no reservations disrobing in front of women, regardless of their age.  Since they were there to sketch a handsome nude male, they had no qualms either.


Solo noticed writing on Illya’s arms...numbers, telephone numbers?


“Oh, that, “ Illya snickered.”The ladies thought I might enjoy dating some of their daughters...their photos indicated they were quite pretty; plenty of blondes, a brunette and even a red head.”


Napoleon’s jaw dropped as he stared at Kuryakin in envy.


“Perhaps you should model for the class next door?” Illya suggested.


“Another class? Sounds good to me,” Solo grinned. Finding the dressing room, he changed, slipping into a robe.


Napoleon sauntered into the classroom, grinning from ear to ear. He was going to enjoy outdoing his partner as he was sure he'd get more phone numbers.


The room was filled with elderly men...

[identity profile] lilidelafield.livejournal.com

(sorry about this one. It wrote itself. I couldn't resist)

          “Are you sure about this Napoleon?”

Illya was clearly unsure. Napoleon grinned impishly.

           “Absolutely, nothing to worry about. I come here all the time. It’s a great way to relax after a heavy workout.”

           “Napoleon, I’d sooner shower. What is so great about a sauna? I dislike hot temperatures.”

Napoleon opened a door and shoved his partner through.

           “Through that other door there. Trust me, Illya. Have I ever steered you wrong?”

           “Frequently!” Illya stepped through the door. He was met with a bevy of elderly ladies with easels. The teacher steered him to a chair.

           “Welcome to our life-drawing class!”

 
[identity profile] lilidelafield.livejournal.com

(Just to let you know, those who have been following this story, I may come back to it...tell a little more about Millie and Carrie, and what if anything came next...)

A Letter,  part 12

Napoleon, his surviving daughter Carrie and her grandparents stood watching the coffin lowering slowly into the grave. Carrie dropped a single white rose onto the lid of the coffin, tears on her cheeks. Tom and Elsie led her away to wait by the car. Illya moved in beside Napoleon, fighting memories of his own. Napoleon’s shoulders were shaking, but he was making no sound.

           “We’ll destroy THRUSH one day, my friend.” Illya said softly. “I swear we’ll make them pay for killing Millie.”

           “Millicent Rose Solo, fifteen years old, killed by THRUSH.” He raised red eyes to Illya.

           “This is not over!”

[identity profile] mrua7.livejournal.com
There's still time to post a story for today's PicFic prompt.  If you can't post today, just go with my motto of 'better late than never!"

Today's prompt again:




the rules of the challenge are HERE.
[identity profile] rose-of-pollux.livejournal.com
Short Affair 9/4
Prompt: Clean
Color: Silver

Title: Just Desserts
Author: Rose of Pollux
Word Count: ~1000

Summary: Takes place during the second year of the partnership. When a jealous rival agent uses his father’s Section I influence to get a cushy assignment while Napoleon gets a less desirable one, Illya sees red. Napoleon, meanwhile, makes the best of it.

Gen version is available at my DreamWidth

[identity profile] hypatia-66.livejournal.com
Short Affair challenge 4 Sept (Drive. Silver)

popar003.jpg

Couldn’t be difficult

It was more interesting to watch the birdlife over the course. Trailing after the two men; pulling their trolleys full of clubs, one in each hand; or holding the flag while they each tried to persuade a small white ball to drop into an almost invisible hole, using entirely unsuitable instruments – it was beyond tedium.

“Hi, you’re in the way. Fore!”

“Four what?”

“Idiot Russian.”

“Leave him alone, Mr Solo. Mr Kuryakin, perhaps you’d be good enough to move a little to your left, while your partner plays his shot.”

And so it went. Hours of it. His job was to keep a weather eye out for a certain kind of bird, known to inhabit rough places and suspected of having started to nest nearby.

Once, looking up at a passing buzzard, a dark predator against the high cloud of a silver sky, he stepped back and fell into a bunker. His partner’s mirth added little to his enjoyment of the day.


The scientist in him, however, had begun to observe the mechanics of the business. Read more... )

[identity profile] jantojones.livejournal.com
This is a very short piece (only 617 words), but I'd like to present it for all the Illya girls out there. Click the pic (which almost, but doesn't quite match the story) to go to AO3.

Gymnastics.gif

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