Whew - for a moment I thought it was literally my final hour! O.o
I haven't actually got much writing done today, or indeed kept up with the posts here...and I was doing so well last night! XD I'll see what happens in the next hour (not too much, I suspect)...
Still reading NYR prompts. There is Great Mouse Detective (with competent!Dawson requested, yet) and fem!MacGyver (which makes me LOL and also O_O) and Gone-Away Lake "anything gen" (which is exactly what I was going to request, plus I came up with several story ideas while thinking of my possible requests before I decided not to sign up for Yuletide). And then there's a last year's Legend NYR - Ramos backstory - that I fully intend to finish because it would be awesome.
I know... it's one of those things that's disturbingly tempting just because it's never been done well. And one wants to believe that it could be. Somehow.
Clearly, we need another round of commentfic -- the rescue squad invades the penguin rookery to free the Muse! Or the Nurse. Bonus points for using Scrabble tiles and/or clam dip.
"What's up, Napoleon?" Illya Kuryakin said. He was looking particularly blond and enigmatic that day, a sure sign that he was being written by an Illya-chick.
"There is a be-trousered young woman sitting in Mr. Waverly's chair." Napoleon said, gesturing toward their boss's office. "I suggest we proceed with caution."
Illya looked mildly alarmed. U.N.C.L.E.'s fangirl prevention systems didn't work very well. The girls just batted their lashes at security and somehow snuck by.
"Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin." the woman in question said, standing. "I have an urgent mission for you." Her eyelashes were definitely long enough to outfox standard U.N.C.L.E. security. The flowing red hair probably helped too.
"First things first," Napoleon said, taking her hand with a devastating smile and dimply twinkle. "Where is Mister Waverly?"
"No time for details!" the woman said. "Or fact checking. Or spell-checking. This is serious. More serious than Thrush. (Which is mostly itchy.) This is P.E.N.G.U.I.N. And they have our Muse!"
"Not... Penguins!" Illya said, looking surprisingly frail and terrified for a trained international badass type. Also, briefly, even blonder than usual.
"Yes. They've taken over the United Nations building, infiltrating it by posing as tea-cozies, they have the Muse of Creative Fan-Writing hostage, and they're demanding a delightful evening soiree with the two of you, a game of Scrabble, and all the clam dip that they can eat in exchange for the release of the Muse."
"But..." Illya said tragically, "I am Russian, and even though I speak perfect Cambridge-inflected English, I cannot play Scrabble. I can only play chess. While frowning thoughtfully."
At a hot dog stand, outside of the United Nations building, Napoleon watched Illya consume a dirty water dog loaded with everything but ketchup, to remind the viewers that the United Nations building was in New York, New York, where ketchup on hotdogs was an offense punishable by death.
"How are we going to get into the building, if the penguins are controlling it?" Illya said around a mouthful of probable offal.
"Ah-hah, this is why I am the Chief Enforcement Agent, and you're just a regular Enforcement Agent, Illya." Napoleon said smugly. "I have a plan."
"I thought that was because you were a WASP and I was a Russkie." Illya said. "Do you suppose penguins eat wasps?" he pondered.
"Let's leave the science talk to the boffins." Napoleon straightened his jacket collar and looked handsome. It was totally a verb, to look handsome, not just a passive state. "We must enter the United Nations building through the secret tunnel under the East River. I'm afraid this means that you're probably going to be wet for the rest of the episode."
Sometime later, the two U.N.C.L.E. Agents stood in the corridors of the United Nations building. Napoleon Solo still looked immaculate in his three piece suit, not a hair out of place. Kuryakin was dripping. For the purposes of not catching his death of a cold, he'd taken off his jacket and shirt, and was wearing a clinging white undershirt.
"Which way do you suppose the Penguins went with the Muse?" Napoleon said, slipping his gun out and waving it about authoritatively.
"Well, the penguins are used to the wide, open spaces of the Antarctic." Illya said. "So I think they might have gone to the General Assembly chamber."
Napoleon and Illya crept through the building stealthily, leaving a trail of East River water behind them.
"Something smells fishy." Napoleon said.
"That's not a clue, that's just my socks." Illya said, pulling out a wriggling specimen of New York fishdom. The species was unclear.
"Clever Russian." Napoleon said. "Catching fish in your socks. We can use that as a diversion."
They pushed open a small side door to the great chamber and beheld rank upon rank of penguins seated in a circle around their captive, the lead penguin identifiable by her jazzy fez.
Eyeing the captive wolfishly, Napoleon said, "Hello, Nurse!"
Suddenly, the still air of the chamber was disturbed by an odd grinding, wheezing sound.
"I knew you shouldn't have eaten that hotdog." Napoleon said to Illya, smugly.
"That's not my stomach." Illya looked affronted.
The air near the Nurse seemed to shimmer, and a blue police call box appeared from nowhere.
"Napoleon!" Illya hissed, tossing his blond mane. "That is a British police box. I recognize it from my time at Oxford studying mumblemumble."
Napoleon held his gun steadily, unwaveringly, masculinely, at the foreign object that had appeared in the sacred chamber of the great organization for world peace.
The door of the box swung open with a creak. A man almost as blond and inoffensive but handsome looking as Illya popped out, wearing an interestingly formal garb and hat.
"Napoleon!" Illya hissed. "Those are cricketing whites. I recognize them from my time at Cambridge studying muttermutter."
"Hullo!" the gentlemen who stepped forth addressed the assembled penguins. "Am I late? I'm here for the strip-Scrabble and Nurse Rescuing tournament."
Alas, I stayed up too late not-writing, so I slept in quite long, still not writing, and now I sit here knowing that I have to do the laundry, which does not usually involve writing.
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no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 09:04 pm (UTC)But let's see what we can do.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 09:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 09:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 09:07 pm (UTC)I haven't actually got much writing done today, or indeed kept up with the posts here...and I was doing so well last night! XD I'll see what happens in the next hour (not too much, I suspect)...
no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 09:26 pm (UTC)I want my laptop. ;P
no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 09:33 pm (UTC)*shudder* I've seen plenty of those, and every one of them screams MARY SUE OMG.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 09:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 09:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 09:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 09:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 09:55 pm (UTC)"There is a be-trousered young woman sitting in Mr. Waverly's chair." Napoleon said, gesturing toward their boss's office. "I suggest we proceed with caution."
Illya looked mildly alarmed. U.N.C.L.E.'s fangirl prevention systems didn't work very well. The girls just batted their lashes at security and somehow snuck by.
"Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin." the woman in question said, standing. "I have an urgent mission for you." Her eyelashes were definitely long enough to outfox standard U.N.C.L.E. security. The flowing red hair probably helped too.
"First things first," Napoleon said, taking her hand with a devastating smile and dimply twinkle. "Where is Mister Waverly?"
"No time for details!" the woman said. "Or fact checking. Or spell-checking. This is serious. More serious than Thrush. (Which is mostly itchy.) This is P.E.N.G.U.I.N. And they have our Muse!"
"Not... Penguins!" Illya said, looking surprisingly frail and terrified for a trained international badass type. Also, briefly, even blonder than usual.
"Yes. They've taken over the United Nations building, infiltrating it by posing as tea-cozies, they have the Muse of Creative Fan-Writing hostage, and they're demanding a delightful evening soiree with the two of you, a game of Scrabble, and all the clam dip that they can eat in exchange for the release of the Muse."
"But..." Illya said tragically, "I am Russian, and even though I speak perfect Cambridge-inflected English, I cannot play Scrabble. I can only play chess. While frowning thoughtfully."
*END OF ACT ONE*
no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 10:14 pm (UTC)Worse yet, it's bound to be strip-Scrabble!
no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 10:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 10:21 pm (UTC)So do we get Act Two now??
no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 10:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-03 12:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 10:28 pm (UTC)"How are we going to get into the building, if the penguins are controlling it?" Illya said around a mouthful of probable offal.
"Ah-hah, this is why I am the Chief Enforcement Agent, and you're just a regular Enforcement Agent, Illya." Napoleon said smugly. "I have a plan."
"I thought that was because you were a WASP and I was a Russkie." Illya said. "Do you suppose penguins eat wasps?" he pondered.
"Let's leave the science talk to the boffins." Napoleon straightened his jacket collar and looked handsome. It was totally a verb, to look handsome, not just a passive state. "We must enter the United Nations building through the secret tunnel under the East River. I'm afraid this means that you're probably going to be wet for the rest of the episode."
*End of Act Two*
no subject
Date: 2011-01-03 12:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-03 01:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-03 02:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 10:34 pm (UTC)"Which way do you suppose the Penguins went with the Muse?" Napoleon said, slipping his gun out and waving it about authoritatively.
"Well, the penguins are used to the wide, open spaces of the Antarctic." Illya said. "So I think they might have gone to the General Assembly chamber."
Napoleon and Illya crept through the building stealthily, leaving a trail of East River water behind them.
"Something smells fishy." Napoleon said.
"That's not a clue, that's just my socks." Illya said, pulling out a wriggling specimen of New York fishdom. The species was unclear.
"Clever Russian." Napoleon said. "Catching fish in your socks. We can use that as a diversion."
They pushed open a small side door to the great chamber and beheld rank upon rank of penguins seated in a circle around their captive, the lead penguin identifiable by her jazzy fez.
Eyeing the captive wolfishly, Napoleon said, "Hello, Nurse!"
*END OF ACT THREE*
no subject
Date: 2011-01-03 01:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-03 01:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-03 02:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-03 03:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-03 03:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 10:41 pm (UTC)Suddenly, the still air of the chamber was disturbed by an odd grinding, wheezing sound.
"I knew you shouldn't have eaten that hotdog." Napoleon said to Illya, smugly.
"That's not my stomach." Illya looked affronted.
The air near the Nurse seemed to shimmer, and a blue police call box appeared from nowhere.
"Napoleon!" Illya hissed, tossing his blond mane. "That is a British police box. I recognize it from my time at Oxford studying mumblemumble."
Napoleon held his gun steadily, unwaveringly, masculinely, at the foreign object that had appeared in the sacred chamber of the great organization for world peace.
The door of the box swung open with a creak. A man almost as blond and inoffensive but handsome looking as Illya popped out, wearing an interestingly formal garb and hat.
"Napoleon!" Illya hissed. "Those are cricketing whites. I recognize them from my time at Cambridge studying muttermutter."
"Hullo!" the gentlemen who stepped forth addressed the assembled penguins. "Am I late? I'm here for the strip-Scrabble and Nurse Rescuing tournament."
*THE END*
no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 10:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 10:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 10:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-03 01:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 09:32 pm (UTC)*types*
no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 09:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 09:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 10:04 pm (UTC)face!palm
no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 10:06 pm (UTC)