He would not stay for me, and who can wonder?

  He would not stay for me to stand and gaze.

I shook his hand, and tore my heart in sunder,

  And went with half my life about my ways.

 

A.E. Houseman

 

I miss him. I really do miss him. It’s all changed, since he died, and came back, and left again, with hardly a glance at anyone. I wonder if he’s coming back. I hope he’s coming back.
 

My boss, the man for whom I make unhealthy amounts of coffee, is gone, and my world has descended into chaos.
 

My captain, the man I love, is an immortal, who can sail the seas of time, he can live anywhere and any when, and yet, for a while, he stayed for me, with me. I’ve never felt so alive. He died for me, in the end; I knew that. I could feel that, deep in my heart he wasn’t facing Abadon for the species, or the future, or for her, but to save me. He knew how much life meant to me. But now he’s gone, and without him, I feel empty, hollow. Dead. And the difference between me and him is that only one of us has the power to come back to life, no matter what. It’s not me.
 

My lover, the man I adore, needs to come back to me. I suppose, of course, that he might think that I’m not enough, that I’m just the stupid coffee boy. Somehow, though, I disagree with that, no matter what Owen says. When he shook my hand, when he pulled me towards him and kissed me, it wasn’t just a display of what we share, it was a promise; it was an affirmation of how much we love each other.
 

And then he went. And now I have to live on, in a world with a bit less magic, because it has a lot less him.

Please come back.

In my sixth form you can go on activity day, and me, my friends ad the boyfriend all chose to go to York for the day...
It was AMAZING!


We had loads of tea. Seriously, I think I drank about 12 cups, and I'm still not done for the day :D:D:D:D:D:D
Hyper-ness!        I bought a teapot, cause I'm cool like that; unfortunately, my mother doesn't agree :O Shock
horror, never saw that one coming.
I also got 3 books for a fiver (yay) and a red quill. It's the epitome of cool. And I got a big tub of jelly beans, which are the best sweets ever.
The minster was nice as well, really pretty, but we had to go before we could see the tower.
I'm supposed to be applying to York next year, so long as I get my 2 A's and a B. I really hope I do now, it's so cute. I wish I was more certain of getting those grades, I know those are my predicteds, and you usually exceed them by miles, but if I don't I'm totally and utterly buggered. I'd have to go somewhere like Manchester Met. I'd cry.

Never mind, York was immense, drank my own body weight in tea, put my arm in some jam :)

Sabrina the Teenage Witch; Spongebob Squarepants; Hannah Montana; Fairly Odd Parents; Sister Sister.
Basically, I love kids TV. It's made of epic-ness :D

Hey, just thought I'd post all my Whofic fanfics on here, but it'd take forever, so instead, have a LINK!
Reviewers get love and virtual ice cream :D
x

You bastard. You utter, utter bastard.

I don't think I can watch Torchwood again. I think my heart just broke.

I hate my favorite fictional character. Davies made him kill his own grandson, made him so alien to me, made him cold and inhuman, and made me hate him.

He killed Torchwood. He killed Ianto. I was so convinced, for one day, right up until the last second, that Ianto was going to come back. I would have given so much to see him walk up that hill, with his waistcoat and stopwatch, and go off with Jack. Maybe then I could have coped with the rest of it. Maybe then I could still love it.

I don't think I'm the only one who thinks this. I fell in love, in 'Everything Changes', so deeply and passionately, with a group of people so vibrant, unusual, and completely fantastic. And then he killed Toshiko Sato and Owen Harper. And I got over it, slowly. I understood it, at the very least.
Then he killed Ianto. With, let's face it, no explanation. All that character development, that marvelous relationship between Jack and Ianto, and then a stupid, pointless death.

I feel as though I''ve lost a lover, in losing Torchwood. Non of the Whoniverse makes any sense to me, not anymore. It's poisoned. The body of the whole world created around it is crumbling and falling apart for me. I know I won't ever be able to watch Torchwood again; the question is, do I trust the man who has shattered my world to save just a scrap of it, with Doctor Who?

I'm not sure I do.

I just recieved my DVDs in the post; question is, do I watch the last episode now, and find out if Ianto is still breathing, or am I a good girl, and wait till it's on later?
Oh no, huge moral dilemma...
What should I do?

RTD must be playing some sort of sick game. No way is Ianto dead. He's far too pretty to die.
It doesn't make sense, killing a pretty major character when it's not the finale. I know RTD is God, but right now I could really do with some pretty major un-canon fanfiction, to help me get over it.
Also, denial for the win! If I say Ianto isn't dead enough times, it might come true.

Rating:PG
Spoilers: CoE Day 4
Pairings:Jack/Ianto
Warnings: Spoilers
Summary: Jack's reaction to the events of day 4.
A/N: Not mine. If it was, I wouldn't be weeping right now. Also there would be more Janto and less Gwen.

My heart has been torn out.

I sit, looking at his cold body, in this cold room, and feel nothing but pain. My whole body is burning up with it, and I want to scream and weep and hold him so close. My love, my life, is lying there, dead, and there's nothing I can do about it.

There's no miracle to perform, no just-past-the-last-minute rescue, no... hope.

I've lost that now, even though, in his death, I only just realised he gave me that. He gave the drive and the bravery to accept myself, and to truly love again, deeply and completely.

And now he's gone. I can't say goodbye yet. But I can tell him what he wanted to hear.

'I love you, Ianto Jones'.

My favourite TV couple is either Jack Harkness and Ianto Jones, or The Doctor and Rose Tyler, because they are both the epitome of brilliant.

It’s difficult, being in a relationship with an immortal man from three thousand years in your own future. But I deal with it, because it’s him, and he’s beautiful, and he’s mine. I do love him.

I’ve had a rough time of it, these past few weeks. Keep throwing up, not feeling myself. I hid it from him, of course. There’s no way he needs to be worried, he has enough on his plate. But eventually I got sick of being ill, and, finally, sick of Googling my symptoms and being told I have water retention and cancer and God knows what else, I used Owens’ equipment. I hate going into the autopsy room, even now; I still see him sat around, checking his teeth in the shiny instruments and trying to decide where to put his latest badge on his white coat. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and I went in, and did my best with the random bits of tech, and tried to work out how Owen had organised his equipment storage (it turns out the system was ‘squash it in, and as long as you can shut the door on it, it’s tidy’).

I was shocked, at first. I mean, it’s not medically possible. But I’m pregnant. Just wait till the Daily Mail gets their hands on this.

My body has changed. I can still see the images, when I close my eyes; the manipulation of my intestines, leaving a sac... or an unconnected womb. One assumes the birthing process will be interesting, I can’t see how it’s supposed to come out. I just hope Gwen knows how to use the laser knife, or, failing that, a scalpel.

I still don’t know how to tell Jack. How do you tell your lover, and your boss, that you’re carrying their child when it’s an impossibility? I know that here, in Torchwood, we deal with the impossible every day, but this is impossible that is invading my life. I’m not saying a child is a bad thing; Mam always said that children were a blessing, and it’s a deep rooted belief with me, even now, even after all I’ve seen. But I’m male: I have testosterone, and a penis, and a five o’clock shadow. Men don’t have babies. I don’t know how I changed, but I assume that it’s because of some long forgotten piece of technology. It’s an occupational hazard, when you work in Torchwood, you have to accept that you could be ripped apart by vicious aliens, eaten by pre-historic creatures, and have your body transformed into something else when you least expect it.

I have to hope, though, that Jack will have seen this before; a body re-arranged and re-programmed to carry a foetus. You never know, he might have. As far as I can tell, he’s seen everything, and knows it all. He can be the one to tell the child its bedtime story; I bet he’ll know all the best stories, and if he doesn’t he can just tell it the truth about his life; it’ll be so amazing.

I’m going to be a father; the baby can call Jack ‘Daddy’, and me ‘Da’. We could go and see it in school plays, and tell it that Santa’s coming, and take it to the park. I could teach my baby to raise its eyebrows, and Jack can... well Jack could teach our baby to go out on the pull. Or not. Maybe Jack could just teach it to throw a punch.
I’m going to tell him now; it’s perfect. Perfect-ish. I’ll show him a video of the children chanting, and then, calmly, say ‘I’ve got one of those growing inside of me’. Or ‘Jack, I’m having your baby. Keep our baby safe from that’. Or something. I’m not sure. But it’ll be good.

And now he’s rushed off to Gwen, bloody typical, the moment’s gone now.

‘Ianto!’ he shouts. I leap to attention, already running to him. ‘We’re having a baby’.
How does he know? Did the Hub scanners tell him, can he see it himself? Maybe it’s pheromones?

No. Gwen got there first. Her baby. She’s pregnant, and I can’t tell him now. I’ll wait, I think. Until I’m ready again...and when Jack isn’t a walking explosive.

I can’t find him. I’ll find him, and I’ll save him, and I’ll kiss him, and make love to him, and then I’ll tell him. We can be a family.
Bloody Hell.

An escaped elephant stormed through the living room window, who was quickly joined by a troupe of travelling clowns. They set up camp on the dining trable and then sang S Club 7's greatest hits. THen they all died suddenly from a futuristic and devestatingly fatal form of flu. I called an ambulance to help, but they couldn't come as aliens had stolen their earlobes and were throwing lima beans at them. So I watched 'Friends' and went on youtube for a bit, and then I made a cheese sandwich.  

 I don't want just a gravestone, I want a huge momument. But there can be a big plaque saying 'Here lies the greatest dictator the world has ever known'. 

Arthur Dent, for saving the world in his jammies. Repeatedly. 
And I don't like the Master, because he made the Doctor cry!

That I honestly do have to be mad to work here, and it most certainly doesn't help. 

Also, that living solely on coffee for four days is very bad for you.