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my gay play
would anyone be interested in being my bouncing board and helping me beta a play/story/screeplay thing I'm writing?
it's about sexuality, family, secrecy and fame.
It's not a very serious time commitment but I'd like as many eyes and hands on deck as possible.
comment here and I'll pm you -
Sherlock fanfic
http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/9640.html?thread=45488552#t45488552
Sherlock and John live in a world where they only have 167 words to say, per day.
http://archiveofourown.org/works/256293%5B?%5Dview_full_work=true
To put off his meddlesome, matchmaking mother, John convinces Sherlock to play the role of his significant other. Unparalleled ( Read more... ) -
{re-}introduction
Dear livejournal, this is an introduction. I will try to keep it brief, and void of any self-judgement.
My name is unimportant, as is my age though I will tell you I'm an undergrad in a small town in England.
Why am I here? For three reasons. Firstly, to take part (at least for the time being) in the community aspect of livejournal; supporting ( Read more... ) -
April 26th 2011 + Calendar
O HAI THERE.
I'm sorry. I have such a soft spot in my heart for you, livejournal. I just can't maintain you as well as my blog or even my youtube account.
You must feel terribly abused by me, my dear! I only ever come to you when I have a fandom I wish to rain all over, or when I need an anonymous space.
No, that didn't make sense, and you know what? ( Read more... ) -
about me
This journal is called triumphoflove after the French play "Le triomphe de l'amour", which was made into a brilliant movie. And since I do believe that love makes the world go around, and love is all you need, and open up your heart and you'll find love love love, the name seemed appropriate. -
Futility
Welcome to triumph of love!
Move him into the sun -
Gently its touch awoke him once,
At home, whispering of fields unsown.
Always it woke him, even in France,
Until this morning and this snow.
If anything might rouse him now
The kind old sun will know.
Think how it wakes the seeds, -
Woke, once, the clays of a cold star.
Are limbs, so dear-achieved, are ( Read more... )