Writer's Choice - Punk's Town

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

Reccing someone else's writing again. Groundhog Day reminded me of another fic that most fans will have read already is Punk's Town. It's by periwinkle27, which is all the recommendation it needs.

It's a good piece of fluff; though I think the excellent pictures she posted with it have gone. (It's hard to be sure it's not my old pc.). Nonetheless very worth reading - or rereading - is:

http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/19574.html

Song Story Challenge~ "There is a season..."

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Dedicated to the memory of the recently deceased Pete Seeger, who composed today's prompt "Turn Turn Turn."

                       

The mood was somber in U.N.C.L.E. Medical, the staff stayed away from the Russian; not knowing what to say to him and thinking perhaps silence was the safest route to take.

Illya Kuryakin watched as the priest, dressed in his black cassock, draped a purple stole around his neck and began to whisper over the still figure of Napoleon Solo; saying prayers of Extreme Unction...the ‘Final Anointing’ of the Catholic church. The sacrament was conferred on one who was in immediate danger of death.

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Song Story - Something New

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

The Prompt - Turn, Turn, Turn by the Byrds

Napoleon Solo didn’t usually have to wait for a woman to show up, they seemed to always be present.  He knew the routine, knew how they thought.  He was a good looking guy with enough charm to captivate a room full of beautiful women, and that made him desirable.

He also knew that it might not last.  Seriously, how long could a single man  indulge both his libido and his ego before age or the job caught up with him.  If he did outlive his time in the field with UNCLE then middle age and ... he shuddered to think about it.  No, better just enjoy this season of life and live it to the fullest.

Illya Kuryakin was a man given to long periods of introspection and review.  He knew himself like no one else knew him, understood why he acted and reacted.  No amount of therapy or sitting in the chair opposite a psychologist could uncover more of the Russian than he had himself in his relatively brief sojourn on the planet.  War and deprivation had shaped the young man’s outlook, so much so that he lived on the edge without fear of the consequences.  Every life had its seasons and every season had its time.  He had survived this long, perhaps he would outwit the seasons of killing and death and see something new and better.

~~~~~:

( Read more... )

Song Story: A Time for Every Purpose

[alynwa.livejournal.com]

( The story... )