Feb. 6th, 2010

quitehomoerotic: (Ianto : Stand beside look at)
The world of RP can very varied and strange. There can be much drama and issues, but also you can meet some utterly wonderful people. [livejournal.com profile] hofficoffi mun is one of those wonderful people.

Yesterday, 5th February, was her 3 year Iantoversary!

Some people manage to tap into a character so utterly beautifully, and with such talent that it can utterly blow you away. Right from the beginning she managed this with her Ianto. There is subtlety and depth added to a character that can so easily be made bland and two dimensional.

It is because of her that my Jack exists at all as without her I'd have never started writing him. She talked me into it and helped me until I had something that I felt vaguely comfortable with and that was what? 2 years ago now? How time flies.

I completely treasure everything we've ever written together. Some complete and utter world building (99% of which sadly off LJ else I would add links here). I regard our stories as personal canon and hold them very dear to me. I am very proud of it all.

And on top of being a wonderful Ianto-writer she is a wonderful person. One of my dearest friends and I love her to pieces.

I would recommend everyone to follow her journal.

♥ to you, Zara, lovely. Happy 3 years, here's to many many more.
quitehomoerotic: (Serious : Fingers on lips)
It's just a book.

Just a leather bound book. A little bigger now than it was when it was new; expanded from all the pages dog eared and written on, the ink twisting and weighing down the pages. Notes jotted down over months and years. The corners fray a little and show its use. Well loved and well used.

Just a book and nothing more.

But no.

No, not nothing more. A diary. A glimpse into the mind of the writer. Snapshots of thought and an insight into the way they work. A portable and tangible piece of the mind. Tangible and readable and sitting on a table in sight.

He shouldn't read it and he knows that. He shouldn't, but it's so compelling sitting there. Like an itch waiting to be scratched.

He wonders if it would hurt. Just a few pages? Who would ever have to know? Nothing important, not to sit and examine it, just skim the surface of a page or two, and well, if his name should be spotted then why not read a little more? It's not that anyone would know that he had, and he'd done much worse in his past than read a few words on a page.

But he'd know. He'd know and he'd know things too that weren't offered to him. It would be wrong, and that's what he reminds himself as he tries not to scratch that itch. )

Word count: 688


quitehomoerotic: (Default)
Captain Jack Harkness

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