Doctor (or anyone, really), do you know anythin' about my visions? I'd like to not have the back o' my brain blown out in the near future, and at the rate they're goin'...yeah. Painkillers aren't doin' much good anymore. I don'tEsdf;ksml,,,,,affcxgikjxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
I'm not lyin' when I say I'm happy for him (again). I really am, Ianto's a great bloke. One o' my best mates, in fact. But I can't help feelin' like shite at the same time. And then I feel guilty for feelin' like shite, 'cause I know he still loves me, and he'd hate knowin' it hurt at all. Maybe it's just 'cause I haven't seen him in awhile or
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Once upon a time there was a half-demon named Doyle. Doyle was trapped in his boyfriend's flat while the world went to shite around him, with nothin' but copious amounts o' alcohol and a kitten for company (Flemming says hi). Useless Doyle felt useless. So useless Doyle decided to make a very self-explanatory diagram.
'Course, boss is gone off to see a concert when I get one o' those mind-splittin' migraines. Guess I'll have to take care of it personally. Nothin' I haven't done before, right? Just a couple o' vamps, I think. Easy as pie. Could murder a pie right now. Think I will, actually, that vision was a doozy. Not that they all aren't, these days...