Man from U.N.C.L.E. Section VII

Look Who's Drinking A Toast To Marian...

Thu, 29 Sep 2016 18:11:00 GMT

Posted by: glennagirl.livejournal.com

mrua7 posted about her drinking party and I couldn't resist adding Illya to the revelers.
Who needs anyone else?

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Writer's Choice - The Letter/Les Girls

Sat, 31 May 2014 09:12:00 GMT

Posted by: glennagirl.livejournal.com

I like this duo of stories for the way it focuses in on the differences between our two men, and the emotional background for each of their behaviors. Of course my Illya/Marion stories are the impetus for my POV here, and if you haven't read them they will certainly add more dimension to this selection.
The Letter/Les Girls

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C'est La Vie - chapter 2

Sat, 09 Feb 2013 16:33:12 GMT

Posted by: glenmered

( dinner and conversation... )

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C'est La Vie - chapter 3

Sat, 09 Feb 2013 13:37:00 GMT

Posted by: glennagirl.livejournal.com

It began here...
~~~~~:

In Illya’s mind there was a timetable that had to be observed. His life in the world of couture and runways had helped him to develop a keen sense of how things fit together. As an agent he had, of course, been able to follow a plan; usually it was Napoleon’s plan. Kuryakin liked to know where he was going when his foot stepped through an open door, and preferred a well executed plan to the often haphazard solutions that were eventually the mark of the Solo/Kuryakin exploits.

( Read more... )

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C'est La Vie - chapter 2

Sat, 09 Feb 2013 09:26:00 GMT

Posted by: glennagirl.livejournal.com

Chapter 1
~~~~~:

Napoleon and Illya allowed the conversation to sit idle while dinner was being served. A new face arrived with a cart and the two plates were delivered, each to the correct spot on the table. Nicolette could be seen in another part of the dining room charming other customers, doing a creditable rendition of Marion; or at least Illya thought so. He was glad that the girl had inherited her mother’s graces and personality. It wouldn’t do for a young girl to be as he had been.

Napoleon noted an expression on Illya’s face that directed him to Nicolette. They both sat and watched her, twin bemusement at fate’s sense of humor.

( Read more... )

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C'est La Vie - A House of Vanya Story

Fri, 08 Feb 2013 22:03:16 GMT

Posted by: glenmered

Where we solve Napoleon's idleness...

House of Vanya stories:
Becoming Vanya
Leaving UNCLE
The Masquerade
Secrets

“You have the wrong number. Don’t call me again …”

The voice on the other end was smug, almost condescending.

“Ah, but this is the correct number. You may have changed your office and camouflaged yourself with silks and showrooms, but we know you Mr. Kuryakin. We know who you work for when you’re not sending models down the runway, and we know about your daughter and her mother.”

Illya’s heart nearly stopped at that. Was Nicolette in danger now, because of him?

“Do I detect some hesitation in your denial now? Please remember that wherever you think is safe, we’ll be close by.”

Click.

( Read more... )

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C'est La Vie - A House of Vanya Story

Fri, 08 Feb 2013 15:44:00 GMT

Posted by: glennagirl.livejournal.com

For those who dislike Napoleon's idle period... Well, and those of us who really like this picture ;)
~~~~~:
House of Vanya stories:
Becoming Vanya
Leaving UNCLE
The Masquerade
Secrets

“You have the wrong number. Don’t call me again …”

The voice on the other end was smug, almost condescending.

Illya’s heart nearly stopped at that. Was Nicolette in danger now, because of him?

“Do I detect some hesitation in your denial now? Please remember that wherever you think is safe, we’ll be close by.”

Click.

( Read more... )

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The Randomness of Life~ Chapter 25 for a Little Drabble do Ya Wednesday

Fri, 01 Feb 2013 15:52:55 GMT

Posted by: mlaw

Prompted by: Witch-Wife ~ Edna St. Vincent Millay

And her mouth on a valentine.

Her lips were so soft, so desirable when we kissed. They were mine or so I thought the times when I was able to see her, my Marion.

Yet there was something in her eyes, it was distant. She was lost someplace else when we made love.

I gave her all I could.

.

Or steps leading into the sea.

I would watch her walking in the sand as the waves would gently roll in, stealing her footprints away as though they had never existed.

“Illya,” she would whisper, reaching her hand to me, sometimes I would grasp hers. I sensed something was wrong, but she would not say it.

.

And she never will be all mine.

I think back now, and should have guessed why she said good bye. What I had to give her was not enough.

Marrying her had many risks of leaving her a young widow... and what if there were children?

No, Marion was never meant to be mine, nor I hers. Sigh.

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The Randomness of Life~ for a Little Drabble do Ya Wednesday

Wed, 09 Jan 2013 15:34:51 GMT

Posted by: mlaw

Sonnet 27: Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed ~William Shakespeare

For then my thoughts, from far where I abide,

It was his weekend off, and Illya disappeared wordlessly, not telling Napoleon of his plans.

No, this was private, his rendezvous with Marion.

They met at a B & B outside the city; he anticipating spending the day in bed with her, but that was not to be.

She was unhappy.

Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,

She blindsided him, saying she wanted more than to be an afterthought, and merely his bedmate, like a common strumpet.

He couldn’t give what she wanted, insisting he cared for her.

She sent him packing, it was over.

He sighed, this was his lot in life...to be abandoned again.

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The Randomness of Life Chapter 23~ for A Little Drabble Do Ya

Wed, 09 Jan 2013 09:54:00 GMT

Posted by: mrua7.livejournal.com

Half drabbles inspired by lines from a poem.

Sonnet 27: Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed ~William Shakespeare

For then my thoughts, from far where I abide,

It was his weekend off, and Illya disappeared wordlessly, not telling Napoleon of his plans.

No, this was private, his rendezvous with Marion.

They met at a B & B outside the city; he anticipating spending the day in bed with her, but that was not to be.

She was unhappy.

Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,

She blindsided him, saying she wanted more than to be an afterthought, and merely his bedmate, like a common strumpet.

He couldn’t give what she wanted, insisting he cared for her.

She sent him packing, it was over.

He sighed, this was his lot in life...to be abandoned again.

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The Letter

Sun, 30 Dec 2012 16:12:00 GMT

Posted by: glennagirl.livejournal.com

I sometimes wonder what it would take to get these two into a knock-down, drag-out fist fight. This may not be it, but it's possible that getting mad is therapeutic in a friendship.
~~~~~:

Napoleon Solo could be accused of many things, some of them polite, many of them complimentary and a few not suitable for mixed company. He also had a few weaknesses, the pursuit of women chief among them.

Not many men have the inherent ability to simply charm women out of their clothes with a smile. Napoleon could do that; his smile promised so much and the reports that followed seemed to indicate that he always kept his promise.

( Read more... )

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The Letter

Sun, 30 Dec 2012 16:12:00 GMT

( Read more... )

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