Now the cities we live in

Could be distant stars

Writer's Block: Does this job come with a crown?
Fringe, Olivia, Peter
If you could rule any country, which country would you choose, and why?

Hawaii-I know it's not a country all on its own but if the US could give it to me, I would be very happy. All the sun and beaches I could ever want and people who are laid back and relaxed = the perfect place to rule! Never been there but it is the No. 1 destination holiday-wise for me!

Luddite here!
Fringe, Olivia, Peter
Originally posted by steff3 at Luddite here!
If anybody could direct me to places where  I could  learn the art of making graphics and videos and icons, I  would be very much grateful! I  have just come back to livej and would like to know the ins and outs!

Luddite here!
Fringe, Olivia, Peter
If anybody could direct me to places where  I could  learn the art of making graphics and videos and icons, I  would be very much grateful!

Writer's Block: Revenge of the midnight movie
Fringe, Olivia, Peter
What is your favorite cult film, and why?

Easy answer - Harold and Maude. It is so simple in its message that love can be anywhere and life is too valuable to be wasted in sadness and fear. Love is never too late to be found and life is too short to let it slip away. Possessions are not worth hanging on to in lieu of memories and for that matter creating happiness in your life. It is one of the simplest of messages but it is wrapped up in a bundle of a film that is still too radical for today. It doesn't pull into any punches and is one of those films whose messages sink a little deeper every time you watch it.

Club member
Fringe, Olivia, Peter

Title: Club Member
Pairing: Jeff/Annie
Spoilers: No-except up to possibly Cooperative Calligraphy
Disclaimers: Not owned by me. Dan harmon owns it all

"Why won't people join my opera club? I swear it will be so elegant and I will only play the popular bits that play in commercials." Annie flounced over to the table and dramatically laid her bare signout sheet on the table." There will even be cheese."

Jeff rolled his eyes at the latest outburst and bit his cheek to stop from smiling at Annie, who was currently looking like green had puked all over. He was sure that britta right beside him would say he was mysogynistic but he loved when Annie color coordinated her clothes. She always looked like a mini stepford wife and he had the urge to mess and ruffle up her outfit. Just a tiny bit. Maybe in a cupboard...Ohh, that thought had got away from him.

Annie noticed him looking at her and she blushed.

And that blush was always a plus.

Yes, he really was a bastard.

Abed, the great all seeing narrator of a motion picture in his mind noticed and then as an all powerful god attempted to shape narrative (slyly) then said, "Annie, why don't you leave some forms here, if anyone wants to sign up."

Annie perked up. "Sure." She got up to leave but not before discreetly taking a chocolate that Abed handed her (and blushing again trying not to catch anyone's eye.) Britta frowned and bent over her old favorite "No logo".

Jeff eyed the forms apprehensively. Abed stared at the potential romantic leading character with a serious case of doubt as to whether or not winning the girl was worth listening to people screaming at earsplitting volumes was worth the trouble.

He shrugged and took up the pen. Annie was worth hearing loss.

Abed gave a flicker of a smile as he could see the plot moving on in that storyline now. Finally. He hated couples that kept having UST yet would never get away in any meaningful way until the main storyline was finished. Surely there was storylines afterwards (and he hoped to see what those were.)

Jeff, all cool guy poseur, rose from the table and sailed out of the room, with a smile threatening his whole face.

Abed signed the form with a flourish and also headed to class as Britta looked on suspiciously. He wanted to see this storyline through.

He wondered if popcorn complemented cheese well.


Shadow Chapter 2
Fringe, Olivia, Peter

Title: Shadow

Rating: PG
Summary: Peter is getting to grips with his life...or else.. (first in series)
Warnings: None
Spoilers: Up to and including Marionette
Disclaimer: Not mine, not even close.

Chapter 2


Walter had been restless since he had got home and curiously unsettled. Often he had suffered with insomnia and had came up with several methods to cure it with recitation of formulae, drugs and his son singing. But he felt unsettled tonight and was consoling himself with some sweets that he had had a craving for lately.


He looked over at Peter and frowned. His son was sleeping on his back. While most parents didn’t usually note their offspring’s sleeping positions and Walter made sure that he never told Peter this as he was sure it would join the long list of things that Walter was sure that peter would feel uncomfortable about and that was the last thing Walter wanted to do.

His son was the most important thing in his life. It had been a fact of life for Walter since Peter (the other Peter he murmured to himself) had been born and it had always been so. Nothing was more important than family. But Walter felt it more keenly these days. His son had left him and returned. A veritable Prodigal son who had came back to his true father and rejoiced.


Well Peter had not rejoiced. And that was proper and good and Walter was just happy that Peter had come back to him whole and intact and back to him. But he sometimes wondered if Peter would rather be with his (real) father.


Sometimes he wondered if he should be left alone again. After all he had done to Peter-he deserved it…


Unconsciously he moved from Peter’s bedroom to a window in another bedroom which Peter had mistakenly thought was going to be Walter’s bedroom. However it had lacked several criteria for being a real contender in Walter’s mind for a relaxing resting place for himself. The room felt stuffy and he unthinkingly pulled the curtain aside to pull the handle of the window open when he glanced outside and was jolted back into the immediate present.


The observer was outside.


It could have been any man in a suit and fedora hat but Walter could feel it in the instinctual mind that any caveman had that it was him.


The figure stared serenely at him and gave no indication it was anything but a statue but Walter could sense its stare. He backed away from the window. He felt a sudden attack of vertigo.


The observer beckoned.


                                                *          *          *


Nina Sharp had had a good night.


Various projects that had been nothing but frustrations and troubles had been lately yielding results in a very profitable area that she was positive that she could show Walter without any questions being asked. Well, no questions that was idiotic. Not that she was saying ill of Belly.

But sometimes he had been trying (even more than Walter and that was saying something about the sanity of Belly’s mind after all these years) and some of the researches Massive Dynamic were doing now had to be done. They were in a war. She gritted her teeth.


Nina had been amazed at what she had read in the files that she had with subtle sleight of hand (or information trafficking rather) and indeed what she had managed to learn from Broyles. The situation called for an escalation in work in vital projects and she still felt not enough work was being done. William Bell had been keeping a lot from her, treating her like she wasn’t his second in command and like an infant. He had left her in the dark and consequently she had to now work twice as hard.


But Nina (and her team) had worked hard and tonight was a night of celebration. Whereas ten years ago that had meant a night on the town and a bottle of burgundy, Nina celebrated by having a glass of that burgundy and going to bed. It had been a long week…


An insistent ringing noise woke her up.


Sleepily, Nina reached toward the phone and checked who was waking her. It was Walter at.... 4:15 am. She hoped this was just one of Walters’s bouts of insomnia.


“Hello, this is Walter bishop.” He gave a gasp as if he had been running and in the next second her heart fell as Nina realised he was crying.


“Walter”, He sniffled as she tried to hurriedly think of what to say. “Walter- “


“I’m downstairs!” Walter whispered loudly. “Please let me up.”


“Why, Walter?” She said, tiredly sitting up in bed, inwardly cursing him. “Walter, has something happened?”


There was a pause with only heavy breathing on the phone. “The observers visited me tonight.” There was an abrupt silence. “About Peter.”


Nina felt her blood run cold. “Come inside and come up at once.”

She dialled down to the welcome desk at her building, quickly and efficiently. ”Let Walter bishop up at once.”


Nina shut her eyes and collected herself and got up with a minimum of fuss.


She had a feeling she would need all her wits about her today.


 William had not neglected to tell her some necessary things.



Loyalty (when You really shouldn't) according to Mycroft
Fringe, Olivia, Peter
Fandom: Sherlock
Pairing: General
Rating: PG
Warnings:None except possible unintentional bad language
Disclaimer:Do not own this show

It was day 3 of the intense negotiations in a hot foreign country which did nothing for Mycroft's temperament and everything for his sweat glands when they mentioned his brother.

"Sherlock".He repeated, sure that in heat induced delirium that he had imagined the name.

"Yes",the chief negotiater gave a wide smile,"he muddled in a case that caused a lot of trouble in our country. We would like to deal with him."
Mycroft was sure he hadn't imagined the emphasis in those words. This caused him no end of discomfort in his stomach area (though it could be his new diet).

"He's my brother." he said,cocking an eyebrow.


Mycroft stood up.

"I say this with the greatest respect, but in no way are you or any of your employees allowed within screaming distance of Sherlock Holmes. Do I make myself clear?" He didn't expect an answer.

Mycroft stared at him and then left the table, with his assistant already tapping at her phone. They were in the elegant waiting room in a moment with servants closing great mahogany doors behind them.

"The great big dunderhead". He grumbled half heartedly. She looked at him, amused, not even asking him who he was talking about. They both knew it could be the only relation who could cock up delicate talks in a foreign territory without ever visiting said country.

"So?" They exchanged looks. He nodded, deciding.

"A text both to Sherlock and John, indicating how much I am displeased with both of them." His assistant tapped on her phone. "No scratch that". She stopped.

Mycroft glared at the Monet painting opposite him. "They will probably be amused by it." He looked at her. "Most of my life has passed as a joke in Sherlock's life and I refuse for today to end like that".

He put his shoulders back and went back in like the world class diplomat he was and not the butt of his baby brother's ridicule.

Writer's Block: A latte for every day of the year
Fringe, Olivia, Peter
If you unexpectedly won a $10,000, how would you spend it?

I am sorry (and honest) enough to say that I would spend it on books and dvds and blow it all happily with regrets afterwards- I am just that kind of girl;)

Writer's Block: Stardust memories
Fringe, Olivia, Peter
What is the your most cherished holiday memory from childhood, and why?

On holiday in Galway, on a swing swaying back and forth staring up at the sky,past the steel bar onto the endless blue on the sky. That is my foremost memory-not a particularly exciting or memorable one but it stuck with me-nostalgia, I guess.

Underneath Chapter 2
Fringe, Olivia, Peter

Title: Underneath (2/?)

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Pairing: John/Sherlock, John/OC

Rating: NC-17
Warnings:None, though there may be for future chapters
Disclaimer: Not belonging to me in any shape or form. 

Description: A girl whose boyfriend came as one half of a crime-fighting duo discovers there are repercussions to dating Sherlock 's 'sidekick'. Or how Prudence Conway had flashbacks and came to a few realisations.

Chapter 2

Sherlock came back to a silent flat after finishing up at an interesting crime scene which would have benefited from John’s presence. However Sherlock had been told in loud terms to do something that was physically  impossible by John when he had suggested that he accompany him to the scene.


Still, he had not felt insulted (not more than 10% anyhow) as he knew all couples engaged in arguments from time to time and the reason he had knowledge of this very fact was because of the cases in which these arguments ended up in death. Sherlock trusted John not to hurt Prudence without just cause but that left Prudence and the greater risk of her harming John. He gave thought to giving a verbal caution to Prudence of the risk should any harm befall John but decided against it. Instead Sherlock gave her a forbidding look.


In retaliatory reply, Prudence had gave Sherlock a look that was deeply reminiscent of Mummy’s look at the age of 9 when Mycroft had convinced Sherlock to practice chemistry in Mummy’s dressing room and she had come home from the fancy dress ball in a ball gown and discovered all her priceless Dior gowns were ruined.


Even a sociopath like Sherlock knew that such a look was very not good.


 Sherlock thought it best to leave with Lestrade and the rest of the ‘drug bust’ crew who had been interrupted in one of their heists with another murder by the serial killer they were currently after. So after two hours away in a stinking warehouse, with numerous body parts around the murder scene, Sherlock felt hesitant about going up to his flat.


Sherlock opened the door and passed by Mrs Hudson who widened her eyes, cocked her head and twisted her mouth. It took a second for him to ascertain that she was attempting to exchange a significant look with him about Watson and indeed not trying to swallow one of those bitter sweets that she had been complaining about last week that she had got for a bargain down the shops.


He sometimes felt that if only human beings communicated solely by way of verbal communication and text messages, he would have a much easier time getting around and everything would be so much more …direct.


“Oh, Sherlock,” Mrs Hudson whispered surreptitiously looking up the stairs, “that woman Prudence left a few minutes ago and if you ask me,” Sherlock opened his mouth to open in the negative but she had not been waiting for an answer “ it didn’t go well at all.”


She dusted a few non-existent dust motes off the banister. “I hope John doesn’t take it too badly. I will bring him my apple tart that I just finished this evening over.” She gave Sherlock a look up and down. “Lord knows you boys don’t feed yourselves.”


Sherlock didn’t even protest against this latest slight on his stature and proceeded with all due caution up the stairs.


John was scrubbing the oven and Sherlock knew that Mrs. Hudson had been right and things had not gone right at all. Firstly, he was scrubbing as if the oven could spontaneously combust and he would keep on cleaning, come what may. Secondly his face was all pinched and unhappy like it did when he came across a dead body and he hadn’t been expecting it.


“So how did it go?” said John, not looking up.


“Ok”. Sherlock said slowly. “I had deduced that the killer is a delusional who believes that he is on a mission from God to clean the streets of evil. This was confirmed from the crime scene in which the victim was surrounded by various Christian religious paraphernalia as the killer undergoes his escalating breakdown.”


Sherlock took off his coat and then laid down full length on the sofa. ”However, that is not what is important at the moment.”


The sound of scrubbing stopped. Sherlock waited. “And what is important?”


“Maybe a better word is relevant…” Sherlock mused, closing his eyes.  “Am I correct in assuming that you and Prudence are no longer a romantic unit?”


The sound of footsteps and the sound of a sigh were heard in the room. “Your powers of deduction will never cease to amaze me”.


Sherlock opened his eyes. A bemused John was perched at the end of the couch and smiling wryly off into space. His eyes seemed cloudy and far away.


Sherlock sized him up and knocked his knee into his back gently. “Don’t worry about the loss of your romantic conquest. I’m sure that you will supplant your affections with another before the month is out.” He made sure to give John a smile that in other circumstances he would have been pretending to give but with John came quite naturally. “That is if you behave according to your recent sexual behavioural patterns and the latest copy of Cosmopolitan magazine.”


John looked halfway between perturbed and trying not to laugh. “When did you start reading Cosmo?”


“When I was waiting for you last week in the waiting room in the surgery. I was bored and that magazine was the only reading material available.” Actually it had not but Sherlock had been frustrated by how much time Prudence had been demanding of John lately and had wondered if the magazine harboured any information as to this matter. He got out his box of nicotine patches and debated whether he had need of two or three patches to take the edge off.


“You both can do much better”.


John’s face went still and alert. His eyes held a hint of warning in them. “Did you get that out of a magazine too?”


“No- that’s a fact”. Sherlock closed his eyes again, with John’s pale face  imprinted on his eyeballs. He wondered if John would-

“Whatever you are going to ask for, the answer is no.” John’s voice was situated beside Sherlock’s ear which was…..irritating in all the mundane oddities and ways that John specialised in…


Sherlock frowned. His thoughts had been going into tangents more frequently than usual in ways that sometimes seemed to lead into unconscious thoughts that he would catch the tail end of which annoyed him no end . Sherlock’s mind usually picked up on patterns before anyone else. He relied on it for a life that was goal orientated and unusually free of boredom that he normally fell prey to . Maybe he was becoming…compromised in his thought patterns, just from his friendship with John. Maybe he was….


Slowly becoming like a person with merely an average intellect.


Sherlock shuddered.


It disconcerted him, this dependence on another person. And yet he could not deny that he had pushed John into the role but he had not figured on the feeling of leaving himself open to something more than he had figured in the calculations before he had made the decision to have a flatmate.


 Yet he still he reckoned that with John as his partner, he had a definite twenty percent jumpstart in closing cases and that was worth it. He lived for solving cases that nobody else could solve- it made life worth living.


Sherlock cracked his eyes open drowsily. In the evening twilight, Jim was kneeling on the mat beside Sherlock with his head forward and his sandy hair mussed up, breathing heavily-…..


His heart banging in his chest, abruptly Sherlock sat up and shook his head as if he had been underwater. John was scrubbing the rug on the floor, talking as if nothing had happened. Sherlock tuned in abruptly to the sound of John’s voice. It seemed different than ever before. Stronger. As if it had been background noise all this time.


“-Whenever you come in, you ask me for tea or to send one of your ‘texts’ or some other random thing that I have to put up with today.” John sighed and looked up with a glint in his eye that looked weary in the dusk, “ just don’t. Not today.” John looked down and went back to scrubbing the stubborn stain in the carpet that had been there since the chemistry experiment last Wednesday.


“No,” Sherlock leaned slowly back, never taking his eyes off John. “Not today.”




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