Non-Challenge Fic: Where We Burned the Bridge

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

Title: Where We Burned the Bridge
Rating: K+/PG
Summary: Mr. Waverly inspects the ruins of The Odd Man Affair's extremist organization. He finds someone else doing likewise.


( Hello )

"Facing one's fears" Redux ~ for PicFic Tuesday

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

A reworking of a PicFic I posted in 2013

                 

“All these pure things come foam and spray of the sea. Of Darkness abundant, which shaken mysteriously, Breaks into dazzle of living, as dolphins that leap from the sea,Of midnight shake it to fire, so the secret of death we see...” Napoleon Solo shouted from the helm of his 30 ft. boat, the Pursang.*

“Must you quote D.H. Lawrence at a time like this?” Illya moaned, green at the gills, just before he leaned his head over the side, to heave ho. “You promised me it would be calm. And I quote you," Come on tovarisch, it is going to be a gorgeous sunny day and the bay will be as calm as can be, like a big beautiful mirror."

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Caught in the Spider's Web - Part 4 - For Yesterday's Short Affair (Nov 2nd)

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

Sorry this is late, I've been ill, but I thought I should post this anyway since it was already written.

Part 1 was here   Part 2 was here   Part 3 was here

Prompt word - Gather
Prompt colour - Red
Word count  - 841

Angelique is behind him, and he tries to twist around so he at least has the dignity of facing her, but his feet slip beneath him, leaving him dangling helplessly. For a long moment all he can hear is the sound of her breathing. Slow. Measured. Considering.

He wonders why she is here? Does she think she can succeed where Fuller is failing? Perhaps she can. The thought is unsettling.

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Oops (Redux)

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

I borrowed (completely stole) a leaf from mrua7's book, and went back to an earlier fic and tweaked it. This was the first Picfic I ever did, back when I had no idea what I was doing. To be honest, I still don't. The story is now about 120 words longer, but is still quite short. Hope you enjoy it.

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As he served the meals to the passengers in the train's dining car, Illya wondered, yet again, why it was he who had the service industry role. Napoleon had once explained that his own look was too sophisticated, to which Illya had grouchily replied, 'That's what disguises are for'. It had taken every ounce of his will power not to react when Napoleon had told him it was a more natural position for a scruffy foreigner. Solo hadn’t meant it seriously, of course, but he enjoyed teasing his oft too serious colleague.

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