Far Beyond The Stars...

Current Challenge Comms Assignments

lunar47 — Sat, 02 Aug 2014 05:24:22 GMT

lands_of_magic
Truth Or Dare: Story Board (I don't know if I want to do this one but I will if I have time) - Due August 8, 2014
~~Picspam: Favorite Character, Due August 8, 2014~~

legendland
~~Postcards: Create a destination postcard no bigger than 800 x 600px - Due August 4th~~
Writing: Write from an Unexpected viewpoint, 200 words - Due Aug 14

onceuponaland
Coloring: Color a Picture - Due Aug 9

Journals I frequent Often

lunar47 — Sat, 02 Aug 2014 04:33:10 GMT

LAND Comms

lands_of_magic
----> w0nder_1and
----> grannys_diner
----> storybrooke_me

tv_universe
----> team_bunnyears
----> thewater_cooler

legendland
----> confessors
----> ll_listener

onceuponaland
----> team_snow
----> oualmemos
----> onceuponasocial

PEN PALS/POSTCARDS

postcardjunky
linkedbyletters
penpals
snail_mail_pals

PEOPLE

inabsentialuci
captaintish
linesfade
daybreak777
madzilla
crickets
pianogurl330
_snitchbitch

Tumblr Graphic Haul II

lunar47 — Sun, 27 Jul 2014 05:58:54 GMT

Tumblr Graphic Haul

lunar47 — Tue, 08 Jul 2014 05:19:42 GMT

Here are some of the projects I've been working on lately.

Sherlock AU: Vamplock and his master Molly

Sherlock Character Tropes: Moriarty and Molly as evil twins

Game of Thrones Modern AU (Law Office): Sansa is interviewing for a summer internship at Baelish and Associates and will do whatever it takes to get the job.

Game of Thrones Modern AU: Outlaws on the Run

Camp NaNoWriMo

lunar47 — Fri, 04 Jul 2014 07:46:21 GMT

I considered doing Camp NaNoWriMo this July but I don't think I am adequately prepared to begin to write my fantasy novel. I know that it will have magic and serial killers and be set in late 19th century New York or Boston. I kind of have a handle on my protagonists: a girl named Sally who has the ability to transform objects and even herself and a man (who I have yet to name) who has the ability to alter the perceptions of people. So he can make people see things that aren't there, make it appear that time has stopped, things like that. Magic is rare and is highly sought in some circles but also hunted by people in others.

I had nicknamed this story The Gentleman Butcher because all of this came from a dream I had and that was what the killer was called by the street kids. He's a well to do gentleman who hunts those with magic. Sally seeks employment unbeknownst to her in this man's house. He soon develops an odd and perverse fixation with her especially when he realizes that she can perform magic. I think in the dream she breaks a teacup and fixes it with magic or something. That will be changed because a property of her magic is that it is temporary. So she can turn rocks into diamonds but after a few hours they turn back into stones.

The young man runs in a pack of pickpockets and swindlers. Their leader is a man who is thought to have both kinds of magic but whether or not that's true is unknown. He hawks medicinal goods to crowds of people. My male protagonist uses his magic to keep the crowd's attention on the leader while the little kids pick pocket the wealthy people.

In the dream they meet when he tries to warn her about her employer. When she truly discovers the monster that her employer is she's out on the streets trying to run from him. Together Sally and my male protagonist find a way to hide from the Gentleman Butcher and eventually bring him down. Or something like that. I'll take this month to work it out and do the research.

Layout Change

lunar47 — Fri, 27 Jun 2014 20:36:56 GMT

I changed my layout yet again. A BIG change and I absolutely freaking love it. I went with a Star trek theme but I may switch to Defiance if I get the energy. It's so beautiful. Check it out here: lunar47

Here's a random Bioshock graphic for your time:

Fic: Arrow: Dangerous Illusions

lunar47 — Wed, 25 Jun 2014 02:32:18 GMT

Title: Dangerous Illusions
Author: lunar47
Prompt: Day 2 Daily Arrow Challenge: Dangerous Illusions
Fandom: Arrow
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Genre: Romance/Angst
Rating & Warnings: PG
Word Count: 824
Summary: Oliver finds it hard to keep up appearances when he asks Felicity to be his fake girlfriend for an investors dinner.
A/N:

She was good. A little too good if you asked him. And that was the problem. Oliver and Felicity were currently seated at one of Starling City’s finest restaurants entertaining investors. It had been a whole ordeal getting Queen Consolidated back in his name but now that it was he had to try to build it back into the proud company it once was.

But it wasn’t just an investor’s dinner. They brought their wives and husbands to socialize. It was one of those kinds of events. So Oliver didn’t dare turn up alone. He thought about bringing Laurel. She was the neutral choice. But she didn’t know QC quite like Felicity Smoak did.

She was a bit confused at first at the invitation to join him for dinner. “Is this like a date?”

“No,” He said quickly. “I need a girlfriend.”

“You need a girlfriend but this isn’t a date,” Felicity’s eyes narrowed.

“I need someone to help mingle with investors tonight, you in?”

“And you thought I would be your best option. I don’t know if I can do schmoozing.”

“I have every confidence in you.” Oliver replied sincerely.

She took a moment to contemplate the offer and then asked, “Do I get to wear a fancy dress?”

“If it would help fit the part.”

“Then sure I’ll be your fake girlfriend for the night.” She considered what she just said and added “Don’t read any more into what I just said.”

So here they were sitting side by side, a little too near for Oliver’s comfort. She played the part of the fake girlfriend well. She laughed at his admittedly poor jokes, leaned into him and pressed her bare shoulder against his suited one, ghosted her fingers across his wrist until his whole body shivered. He could smell her light floral perfume and it sent his heart racing.

This was bad. This was very bad. Oliver couldn’t afford to develop feelings for his quirky hacker. It was enough that he admitted that he needed help when it came to Arrow business. But to love Felicity, openly, would put her in danger. She would be a target for any villain looking to exploit Oliver’s weaknesses.

So he tried to put a damper on the butterflies in his stomach whenever he looked at her lately. Tonight was just making it worse. Felicity was deep in conversation with a woman to her left. Oliver tried keeping up with the discussion around him but his eyes were drawn to her profile, the long line of her smooth neck, her silky blond hair. She opted for contacts tonight and he found himself missing her signature glasses. They added character to her lovely face.

She must have felt him staring at her because she turned to face him and she was oh so close. His eyes flicked to her lips before immediately making a beeline for his dinner plate.

“Are you okay?” She asked innocently.

“Fine,” He coughed to clear his throat.

And so it went for the whole evening. The meal was a success on the investor front and he had to thank Felicity for her part in making him seem like a trustworthy guy again. They’re on their way to Felicity’s place in a hired car. She seemed relaxed as she stared out the window at the passing city; her hair was down from the clips that once held it in a bun and her eyes were slightly heavy lidded from the two glasses of wine she had at dinner. He can’t afford to look at her so he checked the messages on his phone instead.

When they got to her apartment he hopped out of the car with her and walked her to the front of the building.

“That was fun. Thank you for taking me. I enjoyed being your not-girlfriend.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You know if this was a date this would be the part where you kissed me goodnight.” She smiled that dorky smile of hers and blushed at her boldness.

He couldn’t do it though, even though he wanted to. Oh did he want to. But he could compromise. Oliver ran his hand down her arm, leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Goodnight Felicity.”

He heard her suck in a breath, “Goodnight Oliver. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She turned and walked in to her building.

He made his way slowly back to the waiting car, hands in his pockets. The situation with Felicity was confusing and rapidly becoming more complicated. But maybe it was just on his end. He could tell, sort of, how she felt. She flirted enough with him to let him know that she liked him as more than a friend and colleague. But what was he saying; he shouldn’t even be entertaining these thoughts.

The car took him back home where he would try his best to not think about Felicity Smoak for the rest of the night.

Fic: Arrow: Leap of Faith

lunar47 — Tue, 24 Jun 2014 19:32:43 GMT

Title: Leap of Faith
Author: lunar47
Prompt: Day 1 Daily Arrow Challenge: Leap of Faith
Fandom: Arrow
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Genre: Romance, Hurt/Comfort
Rating & Warnings: PG
Word Count: 585
Summary: Felicity hates heights. This is a known fact. So can Oliver reassure her that she won't inadvertently plummet to her death when they have to make their escape yet again on a zip line.
A/N:

She glanced briefly off the side of the building before screwing her eyes shut tightly. Nope, that was a mistake. It didn’t matter how many times Oliver had put her in this situation she still felt the same sense of dizzying nausea. It had to be a good ten stories from the roof to the street below.

Oliver finished setting up the line down to the ground. She heard him speaking to Dig through his ear piece. Something about how he was ready and that Dig would be waiting for them with a vehicle. She couldn’t be quite sure, everything was swimming in her head. She felt a gentle pressure on her back. Oliver was behind her, his solid arm coming around to hold her tight.

“Wait, wait, wait. I can’t do this.” Panic now fully invading her voice.

“What? We’ve done this before.” He sounded perplexed.

“I know that.” She tried to reason. “But I can’t. I just can’t. You know I don’t like heights.”

“Felicity, we’re kind of under a time crunch here.”

“I know that but can’t we take the stairs like normal people for once.” It sounded like a perfectly reasonable suggestion to her.

“You were the one who told me that a whole squad of police officers was coming up the stairwell.”

“Yes but-”

He interrupted, “Do you want our covers to be blown?”

“Of course not.”

Oliver maneuvered her so that he was gazing down at her. His eyes were soft even under the mask and hood, “Then hold on tight and close your eyes. I promise I won’t let you fall.”

She gripped him for all she was worth and he took the leap. The last thing she saw before she shut her eyes and placed her face in the crook of his neck was a stream of police officers barreling out of the roof top door. Damn, that was a close one. She needed to learn to pick her battles.

The wind rushed all around her but all she could really feel was Oliver’s sure hands, pressure points on her rapidly calming body. He had a way of making you feel safe and reassured even in the most dangerous of situations. Maybe that’s why she had stuck by him all this time. Or at least a part of the reason why.

Before she knew it her feet were touching solid ground and she was hailing all the deities that she could think of. She had survived yet another plunge off a building with the Arrow.

“You can let go now Felicity.” Oliver’s voice sounded muffled.

“Oh,” Her arms were still wrapped snugly around Oliver’s neck. Felicity went a little pink around her ears. She released her hold on him and something inside her cried at the loss of contact. “Sorry about that. You know me, couldn’t be sure that we were on the ground yet. Wow that sounded dumb.” She said the last bit more to herself.

Oliver chuckled, “Well we made it safe and sound. Dig should be here with the car any minute now.”

“Promise me we’ll never have to do that again.” Felicity was already dreading a next time.

“You know I can’t do that. Especially if you insist on being in the field.” He gave her a disapproving look before placing a warm gloved hand on her shoulder, “But I promise to keep you safe each time we take the leap.”

And that’s all that she could really ask for in the end.

I Started This Opera Shit!

lunar47 — Mon, 16 Jun 2014 21:06:07 GMT

So I got all nostalgic over Repo! The Genetic Opera again. So I switched around my layout to reflect that. You can check it out. Still need to find a good default icon.

I've been avoiding finding a job. I don't know why I'm so scared to just jump into the working world. It's like I'm afraid that my skills won't be good enough. I just completed a nine month patient care technician program which included phlebotomy, nursing assisting and home health aide. I want to work as a CNA in a facility (like a nursing home). I found my internship at one to be a very rewarding experience and I got a good review from my instructor. So I have excellent references. I don't know. I'll try this week. I have to call my career services advisor. I've sort of been dodging him.

In fandom land I've been marathon watching Pretty Little Liars from the beginning. They have all the seasons on Netflix. Game of Thrones was good last night but they didn't have the twist ending I wanted. So I'm actually pretty disappointed.

I'm currently playing Saints Row The Third. I'm only about an hour and a half into it. It's pretty goofy so far. I love it. Still need to finish Dragon Age. I figure as long as I finish before Inquisition comes out I'm doing alright.

My writing as been all over the place. I need to concentrate on one thing to completion. I'm working on like 10 different things at the same time. I actually decided to post an incomplete work in chapters. I never do that. Oh well

Happy Birthday!

lunar47 — Sat, 14 Jun 2014 21:25:50 GMT

Happy Birthday inabsentialuci!!!!

Arrow One Month Daily Drabble Challenge

lunar47 — Sat, 14 Jun 2014 09:12:51 GMT

Day 1: Leap of Faith	Day 2: Dangerous Illusion	Day 3:It Wasn't Your Fault	Day 4: Flash of Lightning	Day 5: Burning Up
Day 6: Death Becomes You	Day 7: Bound By Silence	Day 8:A Queer Sort of Clockwork	Day 9: The In Between	Day 10:Alone in a Crowd
Day 11:Roadtrip!	Day 12: A World of Pretend	Day 13:Let's Don't and Say We Did	Day 14:Daydreamer	Day 15: Stolen Kiss
Day 16: Slumber Party	Day 17: Battle Fatigue	Day 18: Okay Mr. Crankypants, geez	Day 19: Ticking Clock	Day 20: It's Just a Scratch
Day 21: Tell Me This Isn't Happening	Day 22: Drugged	Day 23: Lie	Day 24: Scars	Day 25: Crush
Day 26: Lust	Day 27: First Date	Day 28: Every Place That You Can Go	Day 29: Stranded in the Storm	Day 30: Freedom
Day 31:Confessions

Fic: Tea For Lovers

lunar47 — Fri, 13 Jun 2014 11:48:41 GMT

Title: Tea For Lovers
Author: lunar47
Prompt: feeling the effects of age
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Genre: Romance, Hurt/Comfort
Rating & Warnings: PG
Word Count: 2080
Summary: An argument with Molly over tea has Sherlock facing the very real prospect of getting older…something he doesn’t take to with much grace.
A/N: Sherlolly established relationship. Can be read as a follow-up to Up All Night

It was Sunday, a lazy day when not filled with a case, in the Holmes and Hooper household at Baker Street. Sherlock was still in his dressing gown reading the tabloids. He had always said it was for a case but Molly had a sneaking suspicion it was for the same reason he watched trash television. He liked to pick apart people’s stories, the more outrageous the better.

Molly herself was curled up opposite him in the chair she fondly thought of as co-owning with John Watson; when he was here to do case work that is. It was rather like being in a pleasant time share. Except you had every right to expect the Russian Mafia to break in and hold you hostage and there was a distinct lack of sandy beaches. The perks were good, spending time with Sherlock, and she rather thought she got the better end of that deal. Molly didn’t think John and Sherlock got up to quite the same activities that she and Sherlock did in private. Mary, for one, might have something to say about that.

Molly and Sherlock had been living together for a few years at that point and had been together for a little while longer. Their relationship had not been an easy one. It was full of misunderstandings and hurt feelings but the foundation for respect and love had been built out of his need for her that day on the roof of Bart’s. Things had not been the same since. Sherlock had not been the same since. It was probably a good thing. Had he been the same man, so disconnected from feeling that she had originally fallen in love with, their relationship might not have lasted.

She turned the page of her Pathology journal and reached down to pet Toby as he passed by her chair.

“Molly, any chance for tea?” It seemed that now that she was a permanent fixture in the flat he had less of a reason to call down to Mrs. Hudson for trivial things like tea or biscuits. Molly didn’t mind really. She was happy to do it. But she made sure to call him out when he was pushing too far. This however was not one of those times.

“Sure,” She untangled herself from the chair and padded over to the stove. Molly moved to put the kettle on.

“It’s Louisa’s birthday next month. We’ll have to get her a gift.” She called absently from the kitchen.

“John and Mary’s spawn?” Sherlock replied.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t care for her. You’re just upset that John caught you tutoring her in blood spatter analysis.”

“I still maintain that it is a useful skill.”

“Maybe for you, but not for primary school.”

“What else are you supposed to do with a five year old?”

“I don’t know. Take her to the park, the cinema, the zoo. Does it look like I have a child?” Molly took the cups and saucers down from the cupboard and placed a tea bag in each of the cups.

“You’ve always seemed like the maternal sort.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment I guess.” When steam started pouring from the spout she took the kettle off the burner and poured the water into the cups. She waited while the tea steeped.

“Do you have any cases lined up?”

“Not at present. But I’m sure something will turn up soon. Lestrade and the whole of Scotland Yard can’t seem to do without my help.” He smiled wide and practically preened.

“You don’t give Greg enough credit. I think he solves enough cases just fine without you.”

“Greg. Since when have you been on a first name basis with him?”

“Since he’s been my friend.”

His eyes narrowed and he replied, “I don’t think he considers you as just a friend.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Only that he’s had designs on you for as long as I’ve known you.”

“I think you’re reading into things. Besides he’s got a wife.”

“That does not preclude a wandering eye. It never has in my experience.”

“Your personal experience?” Molly fought a grin.

“I didn’t say that. Don’t twist my words.” Sherlock replied with a frown.

“Sorry.” She sounded properly contrite.

“Anyways, his relationship, if you could call it that, with his wife has never been a very stable one. Both of them are just looking for an excuse to step out on their marriage vows.”

“That’s a very harsh thing to say. I would never wish ill on anyone’s marriage.”

“It’s not wishing ill if it’s fact.”

“Still, I hope they work things out, one way or the other.” She brought the cups into the sitting room and handed Sherlock a saucer before sitting down with her own.

Taking the proffered cup he brought it to his lips and took a sip. Sherlock puckered his mouth and spit the tea back in the cup.

“What the bloody hell is this?”

“It’s green tea”

“No, no. This isn’t for me. I don’t drink green tea. Make it again.” He replied putting the matter to rest. He stuck out his hand with the tea cup and saucer in it.

“Make. It. Again.” She repeated each word carefully, “I make your tea out of kindness. I don’t have to do anything of the sort.”

She got up from her chair and plucked Sherlock’s cup out of his hand, bringing it to the sink in the kitchen. Filling the kettle and putting it on again, she turned to lean on the counter facing the detective. He had his head back in the newspaper.

“It has flavonoids and antioxidants or something in it. It’s supposed to be good for your heart. Your last set of labs said your cholesterol was high.”

“Barely high.”

“High enough.”

“Molly, if you expect me to drink that swill-“

“Green tea is not swill. It has been drunk for thousands of years…probably.”

“Like I was saying, you are a scientist. Speak to me like a scientist. Anecdotal evidence from the back of a box makes you sound like a rube.”

“Fine you want evidence, I’ll get you evidence.” Molly stalked over to the desk and sat before the laptop. Googling “Health benefits of green tea” brought up several articles and she began to read out the titles.

“A few articles from some half-rate journals are not going to suddenly convince me of the miracle of drinking green tea.”

“Why are you being so difficult? Be honest.”

“I just don’t like the taste.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. This was the joy of interacting with a petulant Sherlock.

She turned around in her chair to face him. His back was to her but she spoke anyways.

“I worry about you, you know. You’re not as young as you used to be. You’re in a new decade of your life now. You have to start taking better care of your health.”

“I went to the damn doctor on your insistence, did I not?” He was in a real strop now. “I’m in a new decade of my life,” He sneered,” You don’t have to patronize me.”

“Yes, you did go to the doctor,” She patiently ignored his jab, “And I’m proud of you. But now you actually have to do what they tell you.”

“I don’t have to do anything of the sort. And how is drinking that dishwater following doctor’s orders? They usually like to turn to their bag of pharmaceuticals.” He was fidgeting with the newspaper now.

“It isn’t. I just thought it might help. Something homeopathic so you didn’t have to resort to medication so soon.”

“Oh this is ridiculous. I don’t have to listen to this.” He stood up abruptly, tossing the paper to the floor, and fled to his room slamming the door shut behind him.

Molly didn’t exactly know what had gone wrong. A simple disagreement over tea had ended in a proper argument. She felt she had been reasonable so that left Sherlock as the rather unreasonable party.

The whistle of the kettle broke her thoughts and she got up to move it off the burner. Molly made tea in a new cup, the way she knew Sherlock would like.

With the cup in one hand she gently tapped on the door to their room. “Sherlock, can I come in?” She didn’t hear a reply so she eased the door open and stepped inside.

Sherlock was lying on the bed, his hands steepled beneath his chin, his gaze pointed fixedly at the ceiling.

“Are you alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be alright?” He spoke calmly.

“We had an argument over tea of all things. That’s unusual.” She paused, “I made you a new cup by the way: English breakfast, one sugar.” She placed the cup on the nightstand.

“Can I join you?”

“Do what you like.”

Molly ignored the tone and moved to lie next to him on the bed. “So are you going to tell me what’s really bothering you?”

His eyes crossed to her face then settled on the ceiling again. Sherlock sighed and seemed to resign himself to speak. “I don’t want to admit that my health may be a concern now where it was just taken for granted before. I don’t like the prospect of getting older. I don’t like the thought of my faculties growing dimmer.” He brought his hand up to tap at his temple, “I rely on my senses, my intellect and my mind to organize all that information and present it in a useful manner. That won’t be the case forever.”

“You have a long way to go before you’re senile Sherlock. And something tells me you’ll probably be solving the case of the missing dentures when you’re ninety and living in a nursing home.”

His whole face twisted into a disgusted expression, “That is a most horrid thought. Never repeat that again.”

She grinned and kissed his cheek.

“How can you not be daunted by the prospect of getting older?” Sherlock questioned apprehensively.

“I don’t know. I suppose I always thought about the good things that would come with age. You no longer have to struggle to prove yourself in your profession. Your name has respect and worth. Now you can just focus on doing what you love. Like, I have a good position at Bart’s. It’s well respected. I could publish more and it’s something I would like to work on. But I have time. Haven’t you seen the benefits in your detective work that have come with age? People believe in the work that you do? You no longer have to convince the Yard that your experience can be beneficial.”

“I suppose.” He sounded skeptical.

“Another good thing happens when you have a partner. If you’ve been with them a while you get to the comfortable stage where things may not be as exciting as they once were but you know your partner intimately. Deep trust and love have developed all due to time. And with age hopefully comes the wisdom to know that you are in the right relationship.

Age doesn’t have to be a bad thing. It’s all in how you view it.”

“You have a decidedly positive outlook on the situation.”

“You should too. You are entirely too young to start having these thoughts.”

“You may be right.”

“Of course I’m right.”

Sherlock reached over to grab her hand. He gave it a squeeze and she squeezed back.

“I love you, you know.” She was at least comfortable saying it.

“As well you should.”

“We’re going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”

“I know I’m going to be fine.”

“Good.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence and he rubbed his thumb gently over her knuckles.

“What are you thinking about?” Molly queried.

“I’m thinking about asking Lestrade for a case.”

“Not willing to wait for him to come to you?”

“No, I think it will do me some good. Maybe prove I’m not losing my mind completely.”

“Sherlock,” She sighed deeply.

He rolled over to kiss her on the cheek then hopped out of bed to get dressed for the day. Molly lay back on the bed with her arms clasped over her chest. Her relationship was definitely difficult but interesting.

Sometimes with Sherlock it seemed to be one step forward and two steps back. But she would stick with it. God knows he was worth the effort.

Fic: Up All Night

lunar47 — Fri, 13 Jun 2014 11:34:21 GMT

Title: Up All Night
Author: lunar47
Prompt: Insomnia
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Genre: Romance/fluff
Rating & Warnings: PG-13
Word Count: 461
Summary: Molly can’t sleep so she ponders her relationship with Sherlock and Sherlock persuades her to sleep in his usual Sherlock way.
A/N: written in some nebulous time after series 3

Molly rolled over for what seemed like the umpteenth time that night. Sighing deeply she stared forlornly up at her ceiling. Sleep seemed less and less likely as the night progressed.

“What are you doing?” A muffled voice huffed in her ear. The world’s only consulting detective was apparently awake and grumpy.

“What do you mean?”

“You keep moving. It’s disturbing my sleep.”

“Sorry, I can’t help it. I don’t know why I’m still up. It’s a quarter past two and I have to be up at 5:30 for the early morning shift in the morgue.

“Well your mattress is an ergonomic nightmare. We should be at Baker Street not here in your dingy flat.”

“Hey, I happen to like my dingy flat. Thank you very much” She scoffed then added in a much softer voice, “You’ve never invited me to Baker Street before. I mean I’ve been to your flat of course but never to do this; never to spend the night.”

“Haven’t I?”

“No, I would’ve remembered something like that.”

“Well, next time will have to be at mine.”

It came as something of a relief to hear him mention a next time. Their “relationship,” if you could call it that, was tentative at best. They did things together as couples often do: dined at Angelo’s (he sneered when Molly suggested the place near Bart’s had better Italian food), ran experiments in the lab (she constantly harangued him about lab safety after he set fire to the bench), solved minor crimes (when John was busy with Mary and the baby) and of course had what she considered, and hoped he might consider, fantastic sex. But they didn’t call each other by any nicknames like “boyfriend” or girlfriend.” He might have been physically sick if he had to do that. Still for someone who once admitted he didn’t do relationships even he had to see they were involved.

Molly moved to face him and smiled. “That sounds wonderful, Sherlock.”

“Well it’s not like I’m suggesting we move in together, Molly.”

“No, of course not,” She giggled.

“Okay, let’s solve your sleep problem. Turn over.”

“Why?”

“Do you have to question everything?”

“Maybe…fine.” She complied and Sherlock wrapped his arms around her. It was something of a foreign gesture on his part but it was more than welcome on Molly’s.

“Now go to sleep.”

“You can’t just command a person to fall asleep.”

“I think you’ll find I’m very persuasive.” He combed her hair back with his hand and placed a kiss on her neck. Molly shivered but found herself relaxing in Sherlock’s arms. Sleep soon claimed her but her last thought was that even with all the difficulties inherent in their relationship they might make it out okay.

Fic: And We Set The Road Ablaze

lunar47 — Fri, 13 Jun 2014 11:22:01 GMT

Title: And We Set the Road Ablaze
Author: lunar47
Prompt: "Howlin' For You" by The Black Keys
Fandom: Game of Thrones / A Song of Ice and Fire
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Petyr Baelish/Sansa Stark
Genre: Modern AU
Rating & Warnings: Explicit - Dubious Consent, Graphic Violence, Uneven Power Dynamics
Word Count: 4387
Summary: Outlaws on the run Petyr and Sansa stop at a motel in the desert to rest. Sansa wants to play games but she may not like the end result.
A/N: Written for petyrsansaweek on tumblr. Inspired by In Such Emptiness by Marquise

The aging Chevy El Camino flew down the dusty highway as the blazing sun started to set over the desert hills. Petyr took a remaining drag from his cigarette and threw the butt out the rolled down window. He adjusted his shades and took a glance at his rearview mirror: nothing. Just as there had been for the last 100 miles of open road. He couldn’t be too careful though. He was transporting a wanted fugitive after all.

The girl in question was reclined in the passenger seat, bare foot on the dash, staring out the window at the sterile surroundings. They say Sansa Stark killed a king. She didn’t look like a king killer to him. But then again the most vicious wolf could hide behind a lamb’s eyes. So for now they would go on the run, try to stay one step ahead of the Lannister soldiers.

“We need to stop. I can’t take being in this car for much longer.” Sansa’s first words in hours sounded tired and worn down. They had been on the road for days, barely taking time to rest.

“We’ll stop at the next place we see. As long as it’s quiet.” He replied.

Petyr drove on until the sky was an inky black and the howling wind died down, cyclones of dirt finally coming to rest for the day. A sign, partially obscured by rust, announced the town they were coming up on. He slowed his speed and observed the abandoned buildings lining the highway. Just past a gas station (one of the few things open) was the town’s only traffic signal, a four way blinking red light.

A little ways down the road a neon sign lit the sky for the “Lucky Six” Motel. He pulled into the nearly empty parking lot.

“Stay in the car, Sansa.”

“Why do I have to stay in the car?” She responded, petulantly.

“We can’t afford someone seeing you. I’ll come get you when I have a room.” He hopped out of the car and was swallowed by the oppressive desert heat. The sun had gone down but the temperature was still in the high 90’s. At least it was somewhat of a dry heat. Even so, Petyr’s shirt clung to his back in an uncomfortable way.

He rounded the car and made his way to the Motel office. Flies buzzed around him and were caught in the electric zapper to his left. The main office was cooler but not by much. Two standing fans were whirling in the background, one obviously on its last legs, the motor sputtering every time it switched direction. Fluorescent lights gave the place an unnatural glow. A television was on silently behind the counter, set to the local evening news. He scanned the headlines before ringing the bell on the desk.

A portly man with a receding hairline and a sweat stained wife beater came out from the back. He grabbed a pen and opened his ledger, “It’s hotter than a witch’s tit ain’t it. How can I help you?”

“I need a room for tonight.”

“Just the one night?”

“Yes.” Petyr’s eye caught the TV behind the clerk again. They were showing footage from the wedding assassination. Sansa’s photo briefly appeared on screen as being wanted in connection with the murder. His stomach clenched. He glanced at the clerk but the man was focused on filling out the ledger. The news broadcast moved on to a different segment and he was able to breathe again.

“Is it just you in the room?”

“Yes.”

“What about her?”

“Who?”

The clerk pointed to behind Petyr. Sansa had wandered into the office unbeknownst to him and was browsing the tourist pamphlets. A flash of anger rose within him. The girl couldn’t follow simple instructions. She was liable to get them both killed if she wasn’t careful. The good thing was that they had enacted a disguise in the last town they stayed in. Gone was Sansa Stark’s long auburn hair. In its place was Alayne Stone’s short black bob. She had cried when he made the cut but he admired her resiliency after that. Her new hair paired with a set of dark sunglasses and she looked unrecognizable.

“She’s with me.”

“Your…?”

“Daughter.”

“Of course.”

The clerk looked skeptical. He’d probably seen all manner of scandalous intrigues as the owner of an out of the way motel. Hopefully he knew how to be discreet as well.

“We’ll put you two in lucky number 6. How does that sound?”

“That’s fine.” He rushed, just wanting the interaction to end. Petyr paid the man in cash and took the key. He grabbed Sansa’s elbow and steered her out the door.

“Why the hell did you come inside?”

“There was a weird man in the parking lot. I didn’t feel safe waiting in the car.”

“Fine,” He let the matter drop.

They gathered their meager items and entered their room. It was quaint and serviceable: two full beds, a table and two chairs, a television, a nightstand with a lamp, tacky pictures of cacti on the walls, a bathroom and most importantly an air conditioner. Sansa immediately went to turn it on. She stuck her head right in front of the cool breeze and the delight on her face was immeasurable.

Petyr put his pack on a chair at the table and removed the gun from the back of his jeans. He checked the safety and then the magazine. He didn’t like to use guns, wasn’t really the type to get his hands dirty. He had people for that. But better safe than sorry.

“I’m going to take a shower.”

Sansa didn’t seem to hear him so he turned to go into the bathroom bringing a clean pair of boxers and a shirt with him, shutting the door behind him. He needed a quiet moment to think, to reflect on the events of the past week.

Under the hard spray he let his mind wander. Joffrey was dead, the imp was being charged in the crime. Sansa was a wanted woman fleeing into the wind. He had to get her to safety and then work on enacting the next phase of his plans. He always had plans. The kingdom may see him as their genial money man but the spider Varys knew the truth of it. They both dealt in secrets and lies, scheming and devising. He just had to make sure not to let his ambition get the best of him.

When he got out of the bathroom he saw that Sansa had moved to the bed. She was laying with her head at the foot of the bed her arm hanging over the side drawing lazy circles on the carpet. Her skirt was slightly hitched up in this position so the backs of her creamy thighs were visible. The room was pleasantly cool now that the air conditioning had been running for a while.

“You can shower now if you wish.”

“Maybe later.” Her voice was slightly muffled by the mattress.

He wanted to turn on the TV, to see what was happening in King’s Landing, but he didn’t want Sansa to see the news reports. Even though facing what happened could be a good thing. She had been in a mood ever since they had high tailed it out of the city. Maybe she was mourning her old life. Though he couldn’t see why. She was treated like shit; a puppet to be manipulated by Cersei and a plaything for when Joffrey’s demeanor turned sour. She was better off with him.

Suddenly she bounced up onto her knees and stared him straight in the eyes, “I want to play a game.” She spoke with determination.

“Games can be dangerous. What did you have in mind?” He replied cautiously.

“Will you do what I tell you to? Anything I tell you to?”

“Depends. What are we playing for?”

“What are we always playing for? You used to watch me, when we were at court. I know there’s a part of you that wants me.” Her voice was soft but contained a playful lilt.

“You don’t know what you are asking for.” He swallowed thickly. He didn’t want to pretend that he had thought of Sansa solely in an innocent fashion.

“I think I’m old enough to decide for myself.” She slid off the bed and moved to stand before him. She was tall for her age, just a couple inches shorter than him. The alignment of their bodies chest to chest, hip to hip was something of a turn on for Petyr. She had a woman’s body, even if she didn’t quite know how to use it yet.

“Will you do what I ask?” She repeated.

“Okay.” He was willing to see how this would play out, for now.

“Turn in a circle. All the way around,” She began.

He complied after a pause, turning slowly until he was facing her again.

“Pat your head.” He did as she asked. “Now rub your stomach.”

He dropped his arms, “You expect me to act like a dog doing stupid tricks.”

“Quiet,” she reprimanded. “Now do as I asked.”

He rolled his eyes and obeyed. She gave a small giggle at the sight. He didn’t like to be humiliated, didn’t like it at all. He was about to stop when Sansa spoke again.

“Take off your shirt.” He looked in her eyes to see if she was bluffing but she seemed resolute so he removed the garment.

She reached out to touch his chest, feeling the fine hairs that grew there. His muscle twitched and she followed it with her fingers. “Take off your underwear.”

His eyes never left hers as he slowly hooked his thumbs in his boxers and brought them down past his knees. She hadn’t looked yet. He wanted to laugh at that.

“Touch yourself,” She began uncertainly. Sansa cleared her throat and repeated herself with more authority, “I said touch yourself.”

He took his cock in hand and ran his palm along the length of it. Moving back up he gave the base a squeeze and continued stroking the shaft. He had never done this in front of a woman before. He was surprised to find himself getting hard already. She looked down finally and her eyes widened. Sansa visibly gulped. He gave a short bark of laughter and smirked. “It isn’t quite what you had imagined, is it?”

“It’s so much more vulgar.” Sansa’s lip curled in distaste.
He reached out to pull her to him but she jumped back. “No. Go sit on the bed. Sit on your hands since you can’t keep them to yourself.”

She was frustrating him and he growled in response. But he sat on the bed anyways with his hands under his thighs, his cock heavy between his legs.

She walked backwards to put a bit of distance between herself and Petyr, stumbling slightly on the last step. She took a deep breath looking like she was mustering up courage. In a flash her shirt was up over her head. She dropped it in the pile with Petyr’s clothes. Next she undid her bra sliding the straps one by one down her arms. Her skirt and underwear were the last to go, pooling at her feet.

He wasn’t afraid to look, like she had been, and look he did. She was beautiful; all smooth skin and firm features. He was itching to touch her. Sansa looked indecisive, like she didn’t know what to do next. She inched closer and tentatively brought her hand up to his face. But he had had enough of her childish games. Petyr caught her wrist and stood abruptly, surprising Sansa. She tried to back away but he was pulling her towards him. His hands moved to the sides of her head and his mouth descended on hers. It wasn’t gentle, this kiss. He wasn’t in the mood for gentle. If Sansa wanted gentleness and courtesy for her first time she shouldn’t have come to him.

Sansa pushed him away, “What are you doing? This isn’t how we play the game.” She said apprehensively.

“Fuck the game.” And he kissed her hard again. One hand wrapped tightly in her hair while the other roamed down her body. He cupped her ass and brought them skin to skin. She gasped into his mouth and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue in. Her mouth was warm and her tongue soft. Sansa seemed to come out of her stupor and started to respond, moving her tongue experimentally against his own.

He broke apart, twisting her around, and pushed her on to the bed. She bounced slightly, her breasts bobbing with the motion. Sansa looked somewhat nervous. She was chewing her bottom lip and her breathing was shallow. He stalked towards her and grabbed her ankle. Petyr pulled sharply until her bottom was lined up with the edge of the bed.

He needed to touch more of her so he trailed his hands down her taut stomach, over her slim hips to caress her inner thighs. Sansa watched him guardedly. He brought his hand between her legs and she sucked in a ragged breath. No one had touched her like this before and something dark and possessive within him celebrated that fact.

He had his thumb rubbing small circles on her clit and his index finger curling up into her. She seemed to relax under his touch. Petyr removed his hand and she whimpered. He popped his finger in his mouth and licked it clean. Her musk was light but pleasant.

Her eyes narrowed and she gave a disgusted look. “Why would you do something like that? It’s unsanitary.”

He chuckled. “Don’t you want to know what you taste like?”

“Eww, no.”

Petyr positioned himself between her legs and hoisted her hips until their bodies made contact. “This may hurt a little,” He warned.

She managed a short nod before he sunk himself inside her. Sansa hissed and her eyes slammed shut. Petyr moved slower this time setting a rhythm he favored. The position was growing uncomfortable so he pulled out. Sansa opened her eyes.

“Move up on the bed,” He commanded.

She scooted backwards and he followed her. Entering her again he found a better angle. He took his time, somewhat for Sansa’s benefit, his pace almost leisurely. Petyr ran his tongue up the long column of her throat. She tasted like salt and dust. Sansa moaned and searched for his mouth. He gave her a kiss and then hitched her leg higher up on his hip. She took the hint and wrapped her legs around his waist.

She was inexperienced, that much was obvious. But she was a quick study. He liked that. It bode well for her future. He could teach her things, mold her in ways she couldn’t imagine. The prospect was tantalizing.

“Get on your knees.” He was the one giving directions now. It was his game to fashion. She gave him an unreadable look but turned around, palms flat on the bed. He pushed into her from behind, hands grasped firmly on her hips. He didn’t want to go slow anymore.

He set a fast pace, fingers leaving mottled bruises on her pale flesh. Skin slapped against skin, the sound echoing with their labored breaths. For all he knew Sansa thought the whole thing was obscene. Her hand slipped and her face planted into the bedspread. She kept it there hidden under her elbow. Her other hand moved to her clit. Petyr felt her tighten around him and she smothered a cry.

He pulled out and pushed her onto her back. Stroking himself one, two, three times, he felt his whole body stiffen and sticky reams of semen shot out and landed on her chest and abdomen. Petyr grunted and collapsed onto his side.

He had the feeling he rendered her speechless, if her shocked expression was anything to go by. She blinked rapidly and blushed a deep crimson. Silently she slipped out from under him, grabbed some clothes from the floor and locked herself in the bathroom.

Petyr rolled onto his back pulling the covers over him. He rubbed his face and sighed. It was filthy, he knew that. But he was caught up in the moment. Sansa did things to him. Made him lose control in ways he didn’t like. He heard the shower running.

When she came out of the bathroom she had on his shirt as well as her skirt. “I want to get food from the vending machine.” She said, her gaze flitting from his face to the floor.

“Be careful.”

“I need money,” Sansa rolled her eyes as if stating the obvious.

“My wallet’s on the table.”

She grabbed a couple bills and left the room, closing the door gently behind her. Sansa returned shortly, her arms laden with processed goods. “I got you a coke and a bag of chips. Didn’t really know what you wanted.”

“That’s fine.” He took the soda and chips from her and put them on the nightstand.

Instead of returning to his side she took up a position on the opposite bed. Something told him she wouldn’t be sharing with him anymore that night. That was fine if she needed space.

“What are we going to do now? After we leave here tomorrow I mean.” She popped the top of her soda and took a sip.

“We should try to make it across to the Fingers. My home should provide some shelter. And then I think we should journey on to your aunt’s place in the Eyrie. The further away from King’s Landing we can get the safer we’ll be.”

“I never want to go back,” She said with sudden conviction.

“And you never shall,” He promised her.

“What about you? What about your position at court? Won’t they know you’re helping me?”

“Hopefully not. But let me worry about that. Anyways, they think I’m away in the country on business. Finish your food. We should get some sleep. Don’t know when we’ll get the opportunity to stop again.”

She upended the last of the bag of pretzels into her mouth and took a remaining swig of soda before dumping them in the trash. Sansa got under the sheets and turned away from him to fall asleep. He switched the lamp off and the room was covered in darkness, the only light (the source being the neon motel sign) coming in from the cracks between the curtains.

He couldn’t sleep. He was too keyed up by all the events that took place with Sansa. He didn’t quite know if he felt guilty about taking advantage of her. She wanted to play it one way but there was often only Petyr’s way. Did that make him selfish? When it came to Sansa he found himself becoming a very selfish man, and sometimes a very foolish one as well. He would have to be careful about that. He had worked too long and too hard to throw away all his ambitions over a girl who looked like his lost love. She could be important though, would be important if he had anything to say about it. She could bring down the Lannisters bit by bit. Sansa had already played her part well.

He glanced over at the girl. Her breathing had steadied. She had drifted off to sleep hopefully not to be plagued by the nightmares of days past. Petyr turned over, closed his eyes and tried to get some rest.

Morning came at dawn with the sound of the television being turned on. Sansa was already up and dressed. She was sitting cross legged on the bed flipping channels with the remote.

“We should get an early start,” It was the only thing he could think to say to her. She nodded, absently. He went to the bathroom to change for the day. She didn’t look at him as he crossed the room naked.

When he came out she had settled on a morning chat show. Cersei was being interviewed by a sympathetic host. It turned his stomach, the display the woman was putting on. He had no doubt she mourned for her son. But the boy was a monster and the sheer pageantry the kingdom insisted upon for a funeral was astounding.

“You don’t need to watch that. Turn it off. We should head out anyways.” Sansa complied and hopped off the bed.

They gathered their things and exited out the door.

“I want real food; from a diner or a café. No drive-throughs. I’m sick of them-” Sansa started to speak.

She stopped suddenly and grabbed his arm, “There’s that weird man again. The same one I saw last night.”

A man in a white rumpled leisure suit tipped his Panama hat in their direction and then loped into the motel office. Petyr didn’t like the look of him. He had a feeling they might have been made.

“Get in the car Sansa and stay there.” He said tightly while handing her the keys. “If things turn south drive as far away from here as you can. Stay away from the big cities.”

“What are you going to do?” She asked nervously.

“What I have to.” Petyr checked for the gun at his back. “Now get in the car.”

Sansa did as she was told without complaining for once. He took a steadying breath and headed for the front office.

Petyr squinted through the dust obscured window. The man was talking to the motel owner. Then the owner picked up a telephone receiver from the counter.

He couldn’t wait any longer. Petyr entered the building and the two men paused.

“Put the phone down.” He said calmly but firmly.

“I don’t think so,” The motel owner shook his head.

“You’ve been hiding something precious here.” The man in the Panama hat lisped. “Didn’t think we would find her with you though.”

So he was a Lannister spy or a sympathizer at the very least.

“She’s the Stark girl.” The motel owner confirmed. “I should have known last night.”

“I wish you hadn’t said that. We could have come to some arrangement.”

Noticing a change in the tension in the room the man in the white suit made to pull a revolver out of his holster. Petyr was quicker to draw. The motel owner fled to the back room, phone forgotten off the hook.

Petyr aimed for the man’s chest but the shot went wide and hit his shoulder. The man tensed and dropped his gun, a very fortuitous situation for Petyr. He fired again and this time his aim was true. The man in the Panama hat went down clutching his chest. Blood poured out of the wound and further stained the grime coated floor of the office. Petyr’s ears were ringing and the smell of cordite hung in the air.

Out of the corner of his eye Petyr saw the motel owner come out from the back and bring up a shotgun. He ducked in front of the counter just as the owner managed to squeeze off a shot. A pellet lodged itself in his arm however and he growled in pain.

“You’re not leaving this place alive. The bounty on her head’s too good to pass up.”

Petyr was in a bad position, stuck in front of the counter. It was the only cover he had in the open office. Bargaining for their lives was going to be a hard sell. He didn’t have the money to top what the Lannisters were offering for Sansa. Besides there was no guarantee that his role in her flight would stay hidden. The man had to die.

He shimmied to the where the counter opened up to let people through. Petyr peered swiftly through the opening. The owner had half his body out in the open, shotgun up.

“Just come out and finish this like a man. Or are you craven?”

Petyr remained quiet so as to not give his position away. Moving quickly, he turned and shot the owner in the leg. The man stumbled to a knee and howled. Petyr slid under the counter and kicked the gun away from the motel owner. He didn’t wait for the man to begin begging for his life before he shot him in the head.

This whole situation was a mess: two dead Lannisters, his blood and prints at the scene, Sansa still waiting for him in the car. He could fix this. He had to try. There wasn’t much he could do at the motel. He could wipe down his prints but he was still bleeding all over the place. They needed to get out of town, get as far away as possible.

Taking one last glance at the office, he exited the building and headed for the car. He could see Sansa’s wide eyes tracking him as he made his way to the driver’s side.

“Oh my god, you’re bleeding!” Her hand came up to gingerly touch his shoulder when he got inside.

“It will be fine.” He replied ignoring the pain, running on adrenaline.

“No it needs to be cleaned up.”

“Sansa I just killed two men in there for you. They may have alerted the authorities. We have to get out of here. Now.” He threw the car in reverse and backed out of the lot. Tires squealed as he put the car in drive and floored it down the two lane highway out of town.

He was coming to the uncomfortable realization that he would do anything for this girl. She had a hold on him the likes of which he hadn’t felt since he was a boy. He turned his head to glance at her. She looked worried. He wanted to reassure her. Tell her that he had things under control but he didn’t feel in control. Things were rapidly spinning away from him.

They were out of town now and back on open road. They were by no means safe. But he would try his best for her sake. Because she deserved that much from him. And he had plans. He always had plans.

Hurt/Comfort Bingo Card

lunar47 — Fri, 13 Jun 2014 10:45:08 GMT

theft	undeserved reputation	forced to face fear	trust issues	blood loss
body image issues	bodyguards	asphyxiation	comfort food or item	magical trouble
pandemics and epidemics	hospital stay	WILD CARD	atonement	grief
moving	experiments by evil scientists	amnesia	drugged	cursed
exhaustion	kidnapping	dub-con	fever / delirium	prostitution

Short Update

lunar47 — Fri, 13 Jun 2014 09:52:07 GMT

So I am ever so slowly making my way off of tumblr and back to the land of livejournal. It has honestly been way too long. And I'm sad because I feel like I've lost touch with all the wonderful people I've met on lj over the years. Also I've lost my only true journaling platform. I don't write about myself anymore. And a lot has gone on in the few years that I've been gone.

So hopefully I'll get back into the swing of posting. Don't be surprised if I lurk on your journals and comment on things from like months ago.

I've signed up for a few writing prompt tables and I'm hoping to complete those by the end of the year. I'm really into Arrow and Agents of Shield right now. Oh and Game of Thrones. And my love for Mass Effect hasn't gone away.

Talk to you guys soon.

Game of Thrones/ASoIaF Petyr x Sansa fc_smorgasbord Challenge

lunar47 — Fri, 13 Jun 2014 05:00:34 GMT

01.	Mamihlapinatapei	02.	Yuanfen	03.	Cafuné	04.	Retrouvailles	05.	Ilunga
06.	La Douleur Exquise	07.	Koi No Yokan	08.	Ya'aburnee	09.	Forelsket	10.	Saudade

Descriptions from fc_smorgasbord

Definitions:

Mamihlapinatapei (Yagan, an indigenous language of Tierra del Fuego): The wordless yet meaningful look shared by two people who desire to initiate something, but are both reluctant to start.

Yuanfen (Chinese): A relationship by fate or destiny. This is a complex concept. It draws on principles of predetermination in Chinese culture, which dictate relationships, encounters and affinities, mostly among lovers and friends.

From what I glean, in common usage yuanfen means the "binding force" that links two people together in any relationship.

But interestingly, "fate" isn't the same thing as "destiny." Even if lovers are fated to find each other they may not end up together. The proverb, "have fate without destiny," describes couples who meet, but who don't stay together, for whatever reason.

Cafuné (Brazilian Portuguese): The act of tenderly running your fingers through someone's hair.

Retrouvailles (French): The happiness of meeting again after a long time.

Ilunga (Bantu): A person who is willing to forgive abuse/mistreatment the first time, tolerate it the second time, but never a third time.

La Douleur Exquise (French): The heart-wrenching pain of wanting someone you can't have.

Koi No Yokan (Japanese): The sense upon first meeting a person that the two of you are going to fall into love.

Ya'aburnee (Arabic): "You bury me." It's a declaration of one's hope that they'll die before another person, because of how difficult it would be to live without them.

Forelsket (Norwegian): The euphoria you experience when you're first falling in love.

Saudade (Portuguese): The feeling of longing for someone that you love and is lost. Another linguist describes it as a "vague and constant desire for something that does not and probably cannot exist."

Arrow Olicity fc-smorgasbord Challenge

lunar47 — Fri, 13 Jun 2014 04:55:40 GMT

01.	Mamihlapinatapei	02.	Yuanfen	03.	Cafuné	04.	Retrouvailles	05.	Ilunga
06.	La Douleur Exquise	07.	Koi No Yokan	08.	Ya'aburnee	09.	Forelsket	10.	Saudade

xbox live and random bits from my life

lunar47 — Sun, 21 Oct 2012 19:35:04 GMT

Hi was wondering if there was anyone out there whose gamertag I don't have. Mine is LunieVision so feel free to add me. I've been playing Borderlands and Halo lately. I also haven't tried the Mass Effect 3 multiplayer yet because I'm a wimp and am afraid to play with others. I really have to get over that.

Other Stuff

*I really don't need another celebrity crush in Robert Carlyle (I started watching Stargate Universe). That's why I have Chris Hemsworth. I thought I was finally learning age appropriateness. I guess not.

*Is it so much to ask for a RumBel fic without sex in every chapter. I just want a really good plot.

*On the flip side, why is it so difficult to find Regina/Gold hate sex. I just think those 2 would be fantastic together

*I can't wait for Once Upon a Time and Homeland tonight. I think I will literally die with the crazy.

*I have to get over my Lilith/Mordecai fixation and be okay with the fact that there is virtually no fic for them.

Hello my lovelies

lunar47 — Sun, 07 Oct 2012 02:47:34 GMT

Well I'm not dead. Just took a very long sabatical from livejournal. I spent my summer traveling, being depressed, and marathoning tv shows. I finally got into The Vampire Diaries. And yes I am a big Damon/Elena fan. I highly enjoy Ripper Stefan though because it brings me back to the only form of Angel I actually liked (evil Angel). Damon is very much like Spike in that he is the resident bad boy but he forms a conscience as the show progresses I suppose.

I'm also watching Smallville. I'm currently on season 6. I can't wait till Lois and Clark hook up and Lana is far in the distance. Lois cracks me up. I love her. I also love Chloe but I've given up my Chloe/Clark love in order to preserve my sanity. I love them as partners in crime though.

I've been playing a lot of video games too. I just started Borderlands. Mostly because I want to play Borderlands 2 and I figured I should start with the first game. I got the Halo anniversary edition since I've never played the Halo series. I also got Dead Space which I will be watching on my giant tv in the living room under the cover of darkness. It's mostly just to scare the shit out of myself.

I saw Hotel Transylvania which was super cute. I also saw Pitch Perfct which was hilarious. Anna Kendrick should definitely keep working in Hollywood. My favorite movie so far has been Looper. I can't stop thinking about it. I highly recommend it.

I'm reading Cloud Atlas. Or trying to at least. Anyone reading The Name of the Wind?

Just so you are up to date my new age appropriate celebrity crush is Chris Hemsworth, amazing Aussie beauty that is Thor.

I think that catches everyone up on my summer. I will be catching up on all you blogs in a couple of days.

Shepards and Tattoos

lunar47 — Sun, 13 May 2012 03:46:02 GMT

Mass Effect 3

lunar47 — Fri, 04 May 2012 01:56:48 GMT

So I finally finished Mass Effect 3 and I'm still not quite sure what to think.

I'm struck by just how depressing my Shepard's ME3 experience was. First her love interest Thane died. Which gutted me btw and made me hate the pompous ass that Kai Leng was. Her revenge moment when she kills him was oddly satisfying. Then Mordin dies because she was trying to do the right thing by the Krogan people. And then I totally fucked up the Rannoch mission. I chose a non renegade/paragon dialogue option because I didn't want the geth to be annihilated by the Quarians. But lo and behold that option led to geth superiority and the death of all the quarians. I had to watch my beloved Tali commit suicide and could do nothing to save her. I promised myself that I wouldn't go back and change any of my decisions even if I didn't like the results. And this was a big hit. It made me cry. I took her along with me on ALL of my ME1 missions.

The ending just left me very confused. I chose the control option because it seemed like the only option that was a win for my Shepard. I couldn't destroy the geth and what EDI had become. I had just fought for their existence and right to live. I sacrificed the quarians for that. I couldn't let that be in vain. I couldn't destroy the citadel because for all I knew there were still millions of people on board. I had a high enough EMS so the galaxy was not destroyed in the process (but not high enough for synthesis). I can stand behind the belief that people will now have to learn to think for themselves, to rebuild without reaper influence. My Shepard would totally have sacrificed herself for this. So in that respect I'm happy with the ending.

What left me confused was the fate of all my squad mates. Why did they crash land on that planet? What is Garrus going to eat? Is everyone else back on Earth? These things I want to know. And I didn't really care for that bonus ending after the credits. It seemed too cheezy to me.

I'm not emotionally satisfied and I really hoped that I was going to be seeing that this is the end of the series. It's been almost 6 hrs since I finished and I'm still thinking about it.

Arts and Crafts

lunar47 — Thu, 19 Apr 2012 06:23:02 GMT

A rundown of all the art I have to do:

DUE NOW
- 6 value study sketches for abstract piece (watercolor class)
- Illustration Friday prompt: puzzled
- Labyrinth box for Ravenclaw House gift exchange (need to add photo and ship)

DUE SOON
- Zombie box for green_wing
- comic box for her sister
- Default Shepard Box for selphish
- Paragade Box for erunamiryene
- Mass Effect collage box for atouchofyou
- Paragade Box for morganskye

FOR FUN
- 15x22 inch Thane Krios watercolor portrait (Best Thane I've ever drawn btw. I'm scared as shit to start painting it in case I ruin it.)
- Mass Effect N7 Box (need to add felt and inside lid pic)
- Cerberus carousel (finish with varnish, pick photos)
- Ariel Shepard carousel
- 1970's New York box for Dad
- Mass Effect crocheted scarf (halfway completed)

And I think that's it *faints*

15 Hours into Mass Effect 3

lunar47 — Sat, 14 Apr 2012 04:53:28 GMT

So I finally played some more of the game this week. I had some major combat anxiety for some reason which was keeping me from playing. Plus schoolwork.

So...I'm a big sap. I totally cried during the hospital scene with Thane and Kolyat. Oh and when you receive that letter after he dies. I think I would have been even more devastated had I not been spoiled beforehand. GOD DAMN YOU KAI LENG!!! I swear I will take him out. And TIM and all of Cerberus. Especially the soldiers with those metal shields.

So I was really worried that we wouldn't get any more squadmates besides James, Liara, Garrus, Javik and Edi. Mostly because there were no obvious spots in the lineup. But I'm so happy that the lineup expands when you get new characters. I was going to be pissed if we got Kaidan back but lost him because of the Mars mission. What would have been the point of bringing him back as a character. But yay!! he's on the squad once more.

I'm glad Tali is back if only because I can have my original squad back for a little while. In ME1 I played exclusively with Liara and Tali. Legion surprised me. I wasn't expecting him to show up on that geth dreadnaught. Plus I was really worried that he was truly indoctrinated. I already had my kind efforts voided (the rachni) so I didn't want that to happen again. Is it weird that I still want the geth to fight with Shepard? Should I just give up that hope and side with the Quarians. Although I need them to give up on their geth war and fight for the galactic whole.

All in all I'm having fun. I just finished the shore leave mini-missions with my crew so I have to figure out my next move. By the way I'm too scared to scan for resources. Reapers obviously scare me.

I can't believe I'm still unspoiled for the majority of this game. My vigilance is paying off. Thank you friends for being so accommodating.

Garrus Wallpaper

lunar47 — Mon, 02 Apr 2012 03:05:04 GMT

Just something I randomly did last night. I once again used my favorite filter stained glass, a nifty grunge brush and some gradients.