Remember - A Little Drabble Do Ya

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

“Only two weeks now, Illya.’

Illya didn’t turn his head, but his eyes were on his partner as he took the last bite of donut.

“Two weeks until … Oh.  Yes, Christmas.”

Napoleon made a face, twisting his lips into something like disdain.

“You know very well I’m talking about Christmas.  With luck we’ll still be in New York and not out on some crazy chase across Europe.”

Illya looked thoughtful at that, recalling images.

“I don’t know, it might be nice to be overseas for Christmas.  You forget, I suppose, that is home for me.”

Napoleon did sometimes forget. 

Remember - A Little Drabble Do Ya

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

“Only two weeks now, Illya.’

Illya didn’t turn his head, but his eyes were on his partner as he took the last bite of donut.

“Two weeks until … Oh.  Yes, Christmas.”

Napoleon made a face, twisting his lips into something like disdain.

“You know very well I’m talking about Christmas.  With luck we’ll still be in New York and not out on some crazy chase across Europe.”

Illya looked thoughtful at that, recalling images.

“I don’t know, it might be nice to be overseas for Christmas.  You forget, I suppose, that is home for me.”

Napoleon did sometimes forget. 

A Drabble on the Discussion on Life: Questioning the Season 5:5

[jkkitty.livejournal.com]

Illya spoke of his father who died fighting for freedom, his mother who encouraged his learning, his grandmother who taught him about caring, Jo who he thought he had lost, and the younger children who didn’t make their second birthday.  He shared stories of their lives up to his family’s death at the hands of the Germans.

Napoleon said nothing at first.

Illya wondered if perhaps his gift wasn’t appropriate.

Then Napoleon said, “I knew I’ve had your friendship and partnership, but to know you trust me with your memories, I’m deeply honored.  Merry Christmas, tovarisch.”

“Merry Christmas, my friend.”

A Drabble on the Discussion on Life: Questioning the Season 5:5

[jkkitty.livejournal.com]

Illya spoke of his father who died fighting for freedom, his mother who encouraged his learning, his grandmother who taught him about caring, Jo who he thought he had lost, and the younger children who didn’t make their second birthday.  He shared stories of their lives up to his family’s death at the hands of the Germans.

Napoleon said nothing at first.

Illya wondered if perhaps his gift wasn’t appropriate.

Then Napoleon said, “I knew I’ve had your friendship and partnership, but to know you trust me with your memories, I’m deeply honored.  Merry Christmas, tovarisch.”

“Merry Christmas, my friend.”

The Snow Maiden

[avirra.livejournal.com]

This is actually an upcoming drabble for my ongoing drabble a day set, but I wanted to post this one here because I have an image to go with it that I'm very fond of that I wanted to share *l*.  Hope no-one minds me indulging in that whim.

"Good morning, Miss Eklund."

"Good morning, Mister Kuryakin. Oh, how lovely. May I see that?"

"Yes, of course. I have brought her for my contribution to the tree."

"She has such a lovely gown. She's a porcelain doll, isn't she? Is she a Russian figure?"

"Yes. She is Snyegurochka, the Snow Maiden. The American Santa has elves to help him, in my homeland, Ded Moroz or Father Frost, is helped by her. She is his granddaughter."

"She's absolutely charming. I think that she'd be perfect for the top of the tree. Let me get the ladder."

The Snow Maiden

[avirra.livejournal.com]

This is actually an upcoming drabble for my ongoing drabble a day set, but I wanted to post this one here because I have an image to go with it that I'm very fond of that I wanted to share *l*.  Hope no-one minds me indulging in that whim.

"Good morning, Miss Eklund."

"Good morning, Mister Kuryakin. Oh, how lovely. May I see that?"

"Yes, of course. I have brought her for my contribution to the tree."

"She has such a lovely gown. She's a porcelain doll, isn't she? Is she a Russian figure?"

"Yes. She is Snyegurochka, the Snow Maiden. The American Santa has elves to help him, in my homeland, Ded Moroz or Father Frost, is helped by her. She is his granddaughter."

"She's absolutely charming. I think that she'd be perfect for the top of the tree. Let me get the ladder."

The Randomness of Life Chapter 19~ for A Little Drabble Do Ya

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

We're all getting caught up in the count down to Christmas, so as a change of pace here's a trio of half-drabbles that have nothing to do with the holiday.  Just two partners dealing with different issues while on assignments.

Prompted by: Daybreak ~Galway Kinnell

(three separate vignettes here, inspired by different lines in the poem and not a story, this time)

.
and enormous, imperfect stars

“The sky’s so clear at night when you’re in the desert.” Napoleon remarked, looking upwards as he and Illya sat beside their campfire.

“Nights are different in Russia this time of year...”

Napoleon looked at him quizzically

“A white night, one of the midnight sun.” Illya fondly remembered St. Petersburg...

.

increased their receptivity

Trapped inside a cave; they were unable to get a clear signal on their communicators.

Illya reached into his backpack, pulling out a sandwich, handing half to his partner.

“What? I think better when I have eaten.”

He wrapped a piece of foil around the antenna. Voila, there was a signal.
.

they were as invisible

Their car went careening over the embankment, rolling and tossing the agents like rag dolls.

When Napoleon woke, he found his conscious partner beside him.

“You okay?”

“Broken leg.”

“Me too.”

Their communicators were dead.

“Chyort,” the Russian cursed.

Headlights appeared above them. “I think tovarisch, our help just arrived.”

The Randomness of Life Chapter 19~ for A Little Drabble Do Ya

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

We're all getting caught up in the count down to Christmas, so as a change of pace here's a trio of half-drabbles that have nothing to do with the holiday.  Just two partners dealing with different issues while on assignments.

Prompted by: Daybreak ~Galway Kinnell

(three separate vignettes here, inspired by different lines in the poem and not a story, this time)

.
and enormous, imperfect stars

“The sky’s so clear at night when you’re in the desert.” Napoleon remarked, looking upwards as he and Illya sat beside their campfire.

“Nights are different in Russia this time of year...”

Napoleon looked at him quizzically

“A white night, one of the midnight sun.” Illya fondly remembered St. Petersburg...

.

increased their receptivity

Trapped inside a cave; they were unable to get a clear signal on their communicators.

Illya reached into his backpack, pulling out a sandwich, handing half to his partner.

“What? I think better when I have eaten.”

He wrapped a piece of foil around the antenna. Voila, there was a signal.
.

they were as invisible

Their car went careening over the embankment, rolling and tossing the agents like rag dolls.

When Napoleon woke, he found his conscious partner beside him.

“You okay?”

“Broken leg.”

“Me too.”

Their communicators were dead.

“Chyort,” the Russian cursed.

Headlights appeared above them. “I think tovarisch, our help just arrived.”

A Little Drabble Do Ya: Private Conversation

[alynwa.livejournal.com]

“Miss Rogers, were you able to go to Cartier’s?”

“Yes, Mr. Waverly; on my way home yesterday.  If I may say, that bracelet you picked out for Mrs. Waverly is simply stunning.  She is going to love it.”

He harrumphed, “I hope so.  I was away so much for so many years that I feel I must make it up to her.”

“Sir, I’ve seen the two of you; she loves you and knows you adore her.  You’re very fortunate.”

“Miss Rogers, you will love again one day.  Mr. Schofield would want you to be happy.”

“Thank you.  You’re right.”

 

Ref. “Dinner and a Story: Lisa Rogers”

A Little Drabble Do Ya: Private Conversation

[alynwa.livejournal.com]

“Miss Rogers, were you able to go to Cartier’s?”

“Yes, Mr. Waverly; on my way home yesterday.  If I may say, that bracelet you picked out for Mrs. Waverly is simply stunning.  She is going to love it.”

He harrumphed, “I hope so.  I was away so much for so many years that I feel I must make it up to her.”

“Sir, I’ve seen the two of you; she loves you and knows you adore her.  You’re very fortunate.”

“Miss Rogers, you will love again one day.  Mr. Schofield would want you to be happy.”

“Thank you.  You’re right.”

 

Ref. “Dinner and a Story: Lisa Rogers”

A very interesting series of articles on writing...

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

And since writing is what goes on here quite a lot, it seems reasonable to periodically reference helpful articles on the subject.  We do have MFUWSS, or MFU Writer's Survival School, although it seems to not get much use these days.  I once bravely posted a chapter and asked for any helpful critique that might be made and ended up with a three page treatise from st_crispins.  I am still utilizing the information she provided and hopefully avoiding the pitfalls she pointed out.  I highly recommend it if you're serious about writing and can stand up to some real time critiquing.   It isn't for the faint of heart, but it is for those who consider writing more than a vanity activity.
So, having said all of that, here's the website.  It is a series, as I mentioned, and probably worth tucking into the saved bookmarks section of your toolbar.
Happy reading.
Plot To Puncutation

A very interesting series of articles on writing...

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

And since writing is what goes on here quite a lot, it seems reasonable to periodically reference helpful articles on the subject.  We do have MFUWSS, or MFU Writer's Survival School, although it seems to not get much use these days.  I once bravely posted a chapter and asked for any helpful critique that might be made and ended up with a three page treatise from st_crispins.  I am still utilizing the information she provided and hopefully avoiding the pitfalls she pointed out.  I highly recommend it if you're serious about writing and can stand up to some real time critiquing.   It isn't for the faint of heart, but it is for those who consider writing more than a vanity activity.
So, having said all of that, here's the website.  It is a series, as I mentioned, and probably worth tucking into the saved bookmarks section of your toolbar.
Happy reading.
Plot To Puncutation

THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS

[avery11.livejournal.com]

Author: Avery11
Genre: Gen

The Night Before Christmas

Christmas Eve, 1963.

Illya poured the last drop of Stolychnaya into his glass and downed it, grimacing at the bitterness. He tossed the bottle to the floor. It rolled across the carpet, colliding with a litter of empty vodka bottles and dirty dishes. He winced at the sound.

“Shhh...” 

( Read more... )

THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS

[avery11.livejournal.com]

Author: Avery11
Genre: Gen

The Night Before Christmas

Christmas Eve, 1963.

Illya poured the last drop of Stolichnaya into his glass and downed it, grimacing at the bitterness. He tossed the bottle to the floor. It rolled across the carpet, colliding with a litter of empty vodka bottles and dirty dishes. He winced at the sound.

“Shhh...”

( Read more... )