unfamiluar

Bad Brains. One of the best bands to come from Washington D.C, one of the best punk bands, one of the best ‘hardcore bands’, one of the most influential bands, one of the best bands with controversy, one of the best bands in the scene, one of the best bands with black members, one of the best bands to change their sound, one of the best bands to play Virgin Fest’s south stage, one of the best crazy bands, one of the best bands to break-up a thousand times, one of the best bands to play the 9:30 club, and one of the best bands to ever exist.

For a crazy, wild band with an insane, eccentric singer and a whole lot of drug use, this band has made some awesome music. I Against I is most likely, one of the best punk rock albums of all time. And even though the band doesn’t like the label, they’re pioneers not only to the hardcore punk genre but punk in general. They started out as a jazzy band whilst the members listened to Black Sabbath and the Dead Boys so of course that didn’t work out, their original singer left and the incredible, the dreadful, the bizarre, the violent, the wired genius, H.R., replaced him. From there, Bad Brains’ became eclectic, fast-paced and hardcore. Shows were a sight to see, with H.R jumping around on stage, in the crowd, swinging his microphone but the energy wasn’t it. Bad Brains was, and is, an all black band. But it was the eccentricity that infamously got them banned from Washington D.C clubs.

Even though they’ve reunited and are still together, Bad Brains’ classic fusion of reggae and hardcore lives on more then if the band was broken up. They’ve influenced anyone you can think of, the Red Hot Chilli Peppers, 311, Lil’ Jon and of course, the Beastie Boys who wanted a BB band name too. Heck, even Billy Corgan from The Smashing Pumpkins credits them as a major influence. He even, dare I say, ‘fan-girled’ when Bad Brains opened for them at a show in France. Buckey Lasek, an amazing pro- skateboarder and Baltimore native cites Bad Brains as his favorite band. Everyone’s covered a Bad Brains’ song at least once, from The Bled, to Sublime, to the Red Hot Chilli Peppers to Frank Turner (who has covered Pay to Cum acoustically) to No Doubt and HIM. Some have even had to chance to have members play with them on stage or in a song like Lil’ Jon who’s had Dr. Know, Darryl Jenifer and Earl Hudson (current members on the band) on a track on his special edition of Crunk Juice (Which I bought just for that reason.) Many bands even have a song written about Bad Brains’ songs! Even the best punk band in the history of the world, Minor Threat, has been influenced by this classic band.

In a way, I didn’t want to type this little paragraph, but in a way I knew I had to. I used to really despise this band because of their homophobia. And their great music is no excuse for the trash on Quickness and the terrible things H.R. said about San Fransisco. However, thankfully, Darryl Jenifer has since then apologize for their young mistakes. Simply, he was young and foolish and now that he’s almost fifty-years-young he realizes that their previous hatred was ignorant. He further proved his point with one of my favorite quotes of all time, “I’ve learned through the years that we’re all God’s children, regardless of your race, creed, color, sexuality, any of that.” And we should all live by that.

It was hard to pick out these songs, but check out: Banned from D.C. Natty Dreadlocks 'pon the Mountain Top House of Suffering Hired Gun How low can a punk get? And, I against I.

**I'm really sorry that this issooooo late!**

They were gazing at the moon. Or rather, she was staring at its glowing reflection in his green eyes as he watched the sky, only to look away when he slowly brought his gaze to hers.  And when she looked away, heart beating steadily in fear, he stole the chance to trace her pale outline brightly contrast against the darkness snug around them.  He quickly looked away when she tilted her head to look at the moon through him again. This went on for the how many hours they lay there on the grass.     

They had collapsed there when all of their friends finished texting about getting to prom. They were probably the only two who didn’t go, she couldn’t afford any of it, and he didn’t go because of her absence and the pain filled heartbreak that would accompanied it.  Instead, they spent all day listening to her collection of records, hanging posters on her bedroom walls and talking about music.  When night fell and the rain finally stopped, she had pulled him outside despite his “protests”.  He really wore the biggest jack-o-lantern grin, and his heart was ready to burst when her soft, delicate skin met his.  Once outside, she fell onto the soft grass, bright green with the recent downpour. She giggled at the instant cold.  He stood there, just watching her, bright hair against dark green. He could still see her smile, even in the black around them.  Her eyes were closed, her hands resting on her stomach. She absentmindedly traced the words on her shirt.

“Bleeding from the heart for some time now,” She muttered, but it was so clear in his head and he laid down next to her, staring at the sky for several minutes until the addiction in his veins forced him to look at her.  Her eyes were still closed, and she was humming something by Agnostic Front. At that moment, his love for her sudden grew, and he felt it swell under his ribcage.  He heard her turn on her side and felt her stare on his chest and face.  He opened his eyes, just then realizing that they were closed.  She was smiling at him, lips a bright pink from the lipstick she showed him in her bedroom.  He closes his eyes briefly, fighting the smile that fought his way onto his features.  When he opened them again, she was on her stomach, watching the stars like they were ready to move.

They were numb with cold, however they didn’t feel it.  The grass under them dried ages ago.  His Glassjaw shirt had uncomfortably risen uncovering half of his chest, but the annoying prodding of the blades underneath him was nothing compared to being in her presence for so long.  Sleep barely plagued them except for the ever so persistent, ever now and then yawning.  He didn’t want to move anyway, not unless she did. 

“I’ve never been much of a smooth talker,” she whispers after hours of silence.  He stares, just stares.
“We got to go with what we’re feeling, with what we believe in, ill write a melody and sing it,” She was closer than ever before.  He could see her eyelashes in great detail, her blue eyes were brighter.  She could see the fear, confusion and hope in his eyes.

“And the whole world will sing it.” He whispered onto her lips. He felt so high, her hands on his skin, her lips on his, that he could feel her in his bones.

Here's a trophy to take home to the broken heart.

Here's a prize for all the "you're wrongs" and "that's not right"

Here's a chance to be alone with someone at your side.

Here are a couple of bright eyes to wake up to; to miss you when you're gone.

Here's a reason to curl up on the bathroom floor and wish for "no more"

Here's a spitting image of what you think you don't deserve.

Here's someone to hold you together, be there when you're down.

Here's someone who's seen all the lows

Here's someone who hurts to see you hate yourself so much.

Here's someone who can't sleep at night to know you're shaking in your sheets.

Here's someone who just wants to "waste his time" kissing your cuts.

Here's someone who's been there all alone.

Here's someone who've always wanted and dreamt of.

Here's a saviour to bring you to your senses.

Here's a diamond in the rust that thinks of you the very same way.

Here's a reward for your self-pity and suffering.

Here's a 'something-to-look-forward-to-everyday'.

Here's a real antidote for all your problems.

Here are two hands to hold yours and tell you "It's alright."

Here's a reason to wake up in the morning.

http://reatrohmaniahh.buzznet.com/user/profile/

I think I made that after the old FOE stopped working for me, and they made a new foe. I guess. I cant wait till this account will hit a year because then I'll stop feeling like a total noob.  Even though I've been on buzznet for a while, as you can see.  I never really did anything with buzznet, except enter some random contests, talk about Fall Out Boy and other FBR bands. I remember looking at pictures from someone who was the friend of My Chemical Romance or something, but that's about it.  I also remember joining 'cause of Fall Out Boy. I won that contest, to see them and I felt like I was fucking e-famous. I guess I just felt on top of the world.  I remember being really angry as well. I would tell people not to listen or to idolize bands and give them a least of equally shitty bands to check out. Which was paradoxical and very stupid and sometimes, if I just sit down and think, I feel really guilty about being such an idiot.  I also feel guilty about not doing anything, well until now.  All I did was write shitty band slash that didnt really make any sense and was just, so terrible.  But, yeah, wow. I totally forgot about my old accounts until now. I'm just sick and bored, really.

Thieves and Villains are one of the hardest working bands ever. Members Sergio Otaegui, Chris Pennings, Jimmi Kane and Justin Speca of New York have been touring relentlessly since coming together in 2007. It’s very rare to come this far in such a short amount of time, but this band deserves it. From their band name, to their music, to their history, everything about TAV is genuine and uplifting. And I should mention, I chose this date to post my review because it’s a holiday. Thieves and Villains’ history seems to focus around holidays; Valentines Day is when the band came together, April Fools is when they released their first demos, and four days after the United States’ Independence Day, they released their debut album Movement.

Before I talk about the music, I have to continue gushing about the band. They are probably the nicest guys I’ve ever met. I saw them in a tiny bowling alley; they set up their own stuff, and sold their own merch. When I bought an album (even though I already had a copy) Chris Pennings thanked me. I don’t care how picayune this band may be, but I had never been thanked for buying something, or going to a show, never personally at least. The small things count, I guess, because Thieves and Villains are definitely one of my favorite bands now. They actually care for their fans, they comment back on myspace, reply to tweets, and hold contests. They’re also brilliant, with their lyrics, their music even their live shows.

Movement is the perfect summer album. Each song seems to reflect the freedom and general feeling that sumemr gives you. Their lyrics have range, from haunting, to extremely catchy. I am picky when it comes to lyrics, and I always to imagine the song in my head. This album is perfect for that. In today’s scene, Thieves and Villains are fresh, but not too different so a lot of people can enjoy them. Even though I love them just the way they are, they deserve so much more. You can find Thieves and Villains on myspace (www.myspace.com/thievesandvillains) Pure Volume (www.purevolume.com/thievesandvillains) and of course, Buzznet (www.thievesandvillains.buzznet.com)

Please check out the following songs.

Let Go

Alantic Lungs

Movement

Settle New York, Settle and,

Worlds Apart.

-Thanks for reading!

The road to success sure has been a bumpy ride for L.A. based emo-punk band Say Anything.  From scary health problems and breakdowns courtesy singer-songwriter Max Bemis; from losing five members in a year to having to bail on tours, the band, currently consisting of bassist Alex Kent, guitarist Jeff and Jake Turner,  keyboardist Parker Case and the only two original members, drummer Coby Linder and Max Bemis, have never been more talented or persevering.

Whenever I’ve tried to get someone to listen to Say Anything, and I mention they have a keyboardist, they’re immediately turned off by the idea.  I’ve been told that having a keyboardist means you sound the same as every pop band on MySpace.  That’s not true, in this case at least.  Say Anything is one of the most unique bands around right now. Each song sounds different, each album sounds different; just as addicting, memorizing and beautiful.  Every song is like a piece of art, the words that Max puts together are amazing, and some of the best poetry I’ve read, or rather, heard in a while.  Max can literally write anything, as seen with the song shop.  Even my grandparents like Say Anything!

Another great quality that Say Anything possesses is an amazing show.  The crowd is instantly full of energy when the band walks on stage, and by the time Max does, the energy is so overwhelming, it’s scary!  If you’re looking for a bunch of sweaty guys fighting their way to the front in an almost fan girl way, moshing even when there’s no music playing, or an overall memorable concert experience, then I advise you to see this band. Even if you only stay for three songs, you’ll always remember the time you saw Say Anything.

Please go to their myspace to listen to songs (www.myspace.com/sayanything) I've tried youtube/the buzznet player and all I get are live songs or videos unrelated to the song.  Also, I can't get the links to work.  So, I suggest you listen to...

Goodbye Young Tutor (In Defense of the Genre)

Little Girls (...Is a Real Boy)

Jesus Died a Jew (In Defense of the Genre)

and, Admit It!!! (...Is a Real Boy)

<IMG SRC="http://i41.tinypic.com/wjua9z.jpg">

The road to success sure as hell has been a bumpy ride for L.A. based emo-punk band <B>Say Anything</B>.  From scary health problems and breakdowns courtesy singer-songwriter Max Bemis; from losing five members in a year to having to bail on tours, the band, currently consisting of bassist <B>Alex Kent</B>, guitarist <B>Jeff and Jake Turner</B>,  keyboardist <B>Parker Case</B> and the only two original members, drummer <B>Coby Linder and Max Bemis</B>, have never been more talented or persevering.

Whenever I’ve tried to get someone to listen to Say Anything, and I mention they have a keyboardist, they’re immediately turned off by the idea.  I’ve been told that having a keyboardist means you sound the same as every pop band on MySpace.  That’s not true, in this case at least.  Say Anything is one of the most unique bands around right now. Each song sounds different, each album sounds different; just as addicting, memorizing and beautiful.  Every song is like a piece of art, the words that Max puts together are amazing, and some of the best poetry I’ve read, or rather, heard in a while.  Max can literally write anything, as seen with the song shop.  Even my grandparents like Say Anythin!

Another great quality that Say Anything possesses is an amazing show.  The crowd is instantly full of energy when the band walks on stage, and by the time Max does, the energy is so overwhelming, it’s scary!  If you’re looking for a bunch of sweaty guys fighting their way to the front in an almost fan girl way, moshing even when there’s no music playing, or an overall memorable concert experience, then I advise you to see this band. Even if you only stay for three songs, you’ll always remember the time you saw Say Anything.

<A HREF="http://www.buzznet.com/track/sayanything/admit-it/10278976/"> Admit It!!!</A><BR>

<A HREF="http://www.buzznet.com/track/sayanything/church-channel-the/16902749/"> The Church Channel</A>

<A HREF="http://www.buzznet.com/track/sayanything/baby-girl-im-blur/16902751/"> Baby Girl, I'm a Blur </A>

The road to success sure as hell has been a bumpy ride for L.A. based emo-punk band <b>Say Anything</b>.  From scary health problems and breakdowns courtesy singer-songwriter Max Bemis; from losing five members in a year to having to bail on tours, the band, currently consisting of bassist Alex Kent, guitarist Jeff and Jake Turner,  keyboardist Parker Case and the only two original members, drummer Coby Linder and Max Bemis, have never been more talented or persevering.

Whenever I’ve tried to get someone to listen to Say Anything, and I mention they have a keyboardist, they’re immediately turned off by the idea.  I’ve been told that having a keyboardist means you sound the same as every pop band on MySpace.  That’s not true, in this case at least.  Say Anything is one of the most unique bands around right now. Each song sounds different, each album sounds different; just as addicting, memorizing and beautiful.  Every song is like a piece of art, the words that Max puts together are amazing, and some of the best poetry I’ve read, or rather, heard in a while.  Max can literally write anything, as seen with the song shop.  Even my grandparents like Say Anythin!

Another great quality that Say Anything possesses is an amazing show.  The crowd is instantly full of energy when the band walks on stage, and by the time Max does, the energy is so overwhelming, it’s scary!  If you’re looking for a bunch of sweaty guys fighting their way to the front in an almost fan girl way, moshing even when there’s no music playing, or an overall memorable concert experience, then I advise you to see this band. Even if you only stay for three songs, you’ll always remember the time you saw Say Anything.

Hello clouds, I’m just floating on by.

My heart is filled with helium; I feel so light.

I think I’m flying, right up to the sky.

That or I’m dreaming, a perfect little dream.

It’s about him and me, something close to lovely sanity.

I can feel it on my finger tips, the corners of my brain.

I feel it heavy on my eyelids, warm and fuzzy against my skin.

I feel it starting at the tip of my head, to my toes.

I feel it breezy and cold against my limbs.

Everything is sharper, when I open my eyes,

I see every detail, sense everything around me, in this blue sky.

I smell the flowers and the grass; I hear the buzzing of the city, the towns.

I feel the wind, the spring chill.

I feel love, all around me.

I feel the wind fast and harsh around me.

I’m falling so fast.

I can taste the sweetness, something like strawberries.

I can hear the love songs blaring, feel the moving speakers.

I hear his name, a rhythm, a tap tap tap against my bones.

I see his smile, his eyes, and his every detail.

He’s a book I see every morning, in the window.

I want to read the pages, learn every word.

I strive; I want this more than anything in the world.

The piano is hidden in the corner of my room.

Across the white keys, there is a shadow that lingers.

The black and white keys spell a certain doom,

An addiction that starts with my fingers.

There’s an ominous gloom to the instrument,

It’s like that when I don’t play.

It’s like the piano is persistent,

It’s like I can’t get away.

My friends call it addiction,

All they see is my fingers tapping to a beat.

I think it’s a habit, not an obsession.

It’s not like my little habit is discreet.

All night and day, I tap my fingers along.

I move my fingers to an invisible piece,

I’m moving my fingers to an invisible song.

Playing is some sort of release.

I can’t help my strange quirk,

It keeps me nice and focused,

These notes and lines are artwork.

I just copy, I’m not an artist.

The notes floating through the air,

The music working through my brain,

Play the hardest piece, oh if I dare.

Their talent, I wish I could attain.

I can’t help but look up to,

Williams, Schubert, Mozart and Bach,

It was because of them that my addiction grew.

They make me play the piano even when I walk and talk.

I can’t help but love this percussion,

The flowing notes all around me as I play,

All I want is some piano action,

So I can play all night and day.

Well, it has been long, hasn’t it?

Don’t pretend you don’t know.

Or realize.

I can see the fear on your vigilant face.

You see me walk the halls, with a rhythmic pattern of click, cer-clomp, click (I still have that limp.)

You see me with that smirk, you can take it back, retrace your steps.

You weren’t always who you say you are.

I can see those memories, not so distant, vibrant against the back of your eyes.

You don’t let surprise show, because that’s a kind of fear.

And you know, everyone’s watching your every waking move.

They don’t realize the bead of sweat that falls down your neck,

But I do.

They don’t notice the slight flicker of your concentration; you look at your surroundings in a split second.

I notice everything you do.

You thought I couldn’t find you, trace you.

You’re not smart enough to see that you’re clumsy, messy, and the traces you leave aren’t miniscule,

You’re like a gigantic monster attacking a city.

That’s how I found you.

And this all happens in what?-Fourteen seconds?

I know that much about you, every intricate detail.

I will brush past you in about, four seconds.

My brand new, flowered skirt, all nice and pleaded, black and blue like I used to know you,

It will brush so gently against your leg.

You never looked good in suit-and-tie gray.

I will barely touch you, and you will cringe.

You will feel the need to cry.

You know how I work.

This little meeting, my eyes meeting yours…It’s almost flirtatious.

It’s all foreshadowing, you know it, and you don’t have time to prove it.

Just wait, more seconds.

I brush past you, just like I knew; you let out a shuddered breath.

I planned it all out, blue prints, inside jobs, the whole nine yards.

I’ll get to the other side, away, where I can be safe.

And you’ll be directly in front of the room,

201, I planned.

You walk past it everyday, whether alone or with a friend.

And I’ll wait,

I can sense your fear.

I bet you’re shaking right now.

Your breath coming out in hollow gasps,

Your sweat glistening around your eyes,

And then you see it, with a flicker of your eyes.

The bombs been detonated.

It’s too late, you look around feverously.

No more innocent lives will be taken,

No, only the guilty will die today.

Everyone’s in the next building, in a party, for the Chairman.

You’re all alone again,

And you scream, like you used to scream when it was just you and me.

I smile when I hear the familiar bang of the dynamite, the crashing of the building, the whoosh of cold air being sucked inside, the soft heat against my back, the smell of fire, the crumpling of the floor, the crushing of glass, the fluttering of paper, your last, agonizing breath of pain.

I told you I always kill my enemies, I told you, and I would get the last of you.

I would say, next time, don’t you double cross me, stab me in the back, lie to me like that.

But, I don’t believe in reincarnation, where you’re going, you’re not coming back.

I realized that it's very hard for me to lose weight, and that's so very, very true.  I have also realized how big I have let myself get, and I believe it's on the borderline of being unhealthy. Even though my friends digress, I know this is something I have to do, and I'm very excited!  I am in no way prepared, like I was planning to, over the years. Originally, I wanted to go vegan when I was sixteen, but I was unable to do that because I had surgery, twice.  Then, my plan was to gradually build up to a complete vegan diet, so I wouldnt make an mistakes.  I'm very afraid of getting sick and having to quit my diet and belief. AKA Lifestyle.  So, I started, over the years, planning ahead. Recently, I cut out straight milk. Which was a desicion I've been trying to force upon myself for a while because sometimes, milk makes me sick.  I was going to go after ice cream, dairys, etc, after this.  But,  now I'm just going to go for it!  So, now, I'm vegan. I'm starting it today, and I'm going to try very hard. I'm in DC, my home basically, right now.  I'm seeing a Pink Floyd cover band tomorrow, and today, were going downtown, maybe on PA ave to go to some museams or something, after our chores and errands.  This vegan diet isn't just about losing weight, however.  I know I'm not obese or anything, but you can be fat without being obese. I've been struggiling with my weight for a long time, and I'm tired of losing to it, so I'm taking a stand. This isn't all, I'm starting to do a lot more exersize, running in the morning, running in the afternoon, running in the evening, pilates, yoga, after xmas, wii fit, dancing and in the summer and spring, swimming. I'm also doing this because it's what I believe in, however, I will not force my beliefs upon anyone!  So, wish me luck? This is definately going to be hard for the first month or so, because I forget a lot, like yesterday, I had cereal, with milk, even though I have soy milk in the fridge, and guess what!  I got sick, yay me?  So yeah, if there's any tips or anything someone could give me, I will love you forever!

:D

It’s been too long.

Summer has just ended; it’s been months since I’ve seen your face.

And you’re not how I remember.

Something about you has got me so I just cant get enough, stuttering and fluttering around like a butterfly with an injured wing.

But you throw me down, toss me around, abuse me and use me like I’m not even human.

Are you careless? Not like how I thought you were.

Are you angry? This is not who I thought you were.

I thought of you as some nice guy, smiling and shy, gangly and awkward, with the mind of a four year old.

But now, I see you as sinister and it took me till winter to find this all out.

You’re going to be the end of me boy, I’ll promise you that.

Rating: PG-13  Challenge #2 (Scattered Words)

---

            He promised not to cry; he promised not to panic; he promised not to die or get hurt and kill all the bad guys.  She smiled when she said the last part. And then, out of pure nerves, she straightened his jacket, rubbing her fingers over the buttons.  He placed his hands on her chest, feeling her heart beat under his palms. He closed his eyes at the soft ba-dum-ba-dum.   He felt her tears fall on his skin, but he chose to ignore them.  For now, he was just going to let her heart, so calm and serene, take him over. 

            “You …just, better come back alive,” she whispered, trying to make light of the situation.  She laughed, the tears apparent in her voice as it cracked. She still hadn’t looked up at him, her hands still flat against his chest.  It was a good thing she couldn’t feel his heart racing.  His right hand slowly traveled up to her face, cupping it gently. She leaned into the touch. 

            Around them was the bustle of ships and soldiers. Soon he would be on the largest ship, behind him, to his right. He saw it when he walked up; he turned his back against it.  The fear, anger and nerves of the battles he would soon be experiencing filled him up at the sight.  He shunned the ship for an instant as bile crept up his throat.

                        “I’m going to miss you,” he told her, voice straight and monotone. He thought that if he put a single emotion in it, he would break down and they would have to drag him away.  He laid his head in the crook of her neck, kissing the skin softly.

            “You have to promise me something.”  He pulled away at the strength in her voice.  She looked up with him sternly, squinting against the sun.  She brushed back a long strand of blonde hair.  The wind just pushed it back in her face.  Her thin hands clenched and unclenched at the thoughts raced behind her eyes.  She clutched at her handmade blue scarf, biting her lip.

            “Anything, baby.”  He whispered.  The bag on his shoulder was growing heavy.  So was his heart, he was surprised he hasn’t fallen through the boardwalk yet.  She took a small breath, steadying herself.

            “Please, promise me,” tears were back at her eyes, falling down like rain against her porcelain cheeks.            

            He pulled her into a backbreaking hug, wrapping his thick arms around her frail body.  She shook and sobbed against him.

            “I promise, I promise.” he told her over and over again.

            He gripped the edge of the boat as she faded.  He promised he would stay calm; he promised he would find a way to breath; he promised the world and more.

            She shook with fear every time someone walked past her home.  And one day, when a man finally did knock on her door, she nearly broke down.  She could barely open the door.

            “Y-yes?” She stuttered.  He smiled at her.

            “Ma’am, I’m a friend of your boyfriends, he wanted me to come by and give you this…” and he handed her a thin envelope. 

            He bit down on his lip.  He could see a blur of blond. He could just about make out a thin frame wrapped in a black jacket.  The gloomy sea air and damp sand around her just made her stand out more, if it was at all possible. And yes, maybe it was her, but with his luck, it could be someone else…

 His heart just about exploded.  The blue around her neck put an end to his fears.  He started to run, despite the soreness in his bones and the sand that dared him to fall.  He dropped his bags, his papers, everything but his clothes and his heart.  She turned towards him just as he got close enough to see the happy tears on her features.  He picked her up in his arms, turning her around and around until they were both dizzy.   He kissed her over and over, on her lips, her forehead.  The two dropped into the sand, smiling from ear to ear.  They ignored the pain in their jaws and teeth.

“You promised.” She whispered against his lips.  He nodded.

“And so, you have to promise me…” Thin waves splashed against their bodies as if they were trying to jump up and reach their heavenly happiness. It was next to impossible, to be this happy.

“Anything.” she exclaimed, her smile tickling his eyes.

“Will you promise to spend the rest of your life with me?” He whispered, pressing his lips softly against hers.  She hummed into his mouth and pressed harder against his lips.  Waves crashed around them, but they didn’t feel the cold and the scratchy sand, they were too numb in love.

            Pairing: Ryan Ross/ Brendon Urie  Rating: R  Warnings: Death, Slash

Flowers start to shed their seedling skin and start stretching towards the sky.  The grass and soil surrounds them like fans in a crowd. They are the stars; the flowers are the divas.  Ryan smiles, he knew a complete diva once. That smile falters for a moment but quickly recovers.  He shields his eyes against the sun; it’s at its peak.  Despite the radiating lights shining on him, the air is chilly. He shudders in his hoodie, closing his eyes.

            He was still a child; he was still a baby; he was still growing up.  Brendon was still shedding his immaturity, his shy little demeanor.  He was cool and content, he had his moments but he had it all together, a little puzzle in a puzzle box.  He had lights radiating on him everyday and yet, he didn’t crack.  It wasn’t fair.

            Life isn’t fair, Ryan knows that, but he didn’t expect it to be to this degree.  Brendon never deserved what happened to him.  He didn’t hurt anyone; he wouldn’t dare.  No, he slipped up a little, all humans do.  It was probably because he was gay.  Ryan doesn’t believe in God, anyway.  Brendon’s gone and there’s nothing he can do about it.

            Baby birds start to chirp, they’re starting to embrace the world.  Children are getting restless in their seats, the sun inviting them with her womanly fingers. But that doesn’t happen to Ryan.  Ryan gets the spring rains, the early summer thunderstorms.  The sun doesn’t shine much on him, in the beautiful way it did before.  It’s only annoying and a complete distraction.

            It’s been a year, a year since last spring.  Brendon’s been gone for a year.  It was a day much like today, where Ryan is sitting in the cemetery, pulling up fistfuls of grass in spite of him.  The sun was shining, the birds were chirping. And yet, despite the beauty everywhere, there was still one cold soul.  One greedy soul not yet touched by the sun.  He knew Brendon from television.  He pulled him into the darkness, the silence, he took his phone, his wallet, and his clothes and then he shot him, right through the head.

            Ryan didn’t even get the chance to tell him how much he loved him.  It kills him, to see the little budding flowers, their heads rising above the dirt ever so softly, ever so shyly. It’s like a blow to the lungs when he see’s clear blue skies.  It’s like salt being poured onto his wounds when anyone mentions spring. 

            Spring used to be a happy time, the beginning of summer and the only time with fair weather where it’s not too hot and not too cold and the rain isn’t so bad after all.  But now, it’s nothing but darkness.

            The flowers slowly creep down into the ground to hide from the chill as Ryan leaves the cemetery.

That voice comes booming out of that mouth.

Surprise hits you square in the stomach.

Your lungs are working extra hard now.

He closes his eyes and belts out so much emotion you crumble into yourself on the floor.

Like a dying flower, your arms the melting petals and your lungs collapsing like the stem, you fall down and feel your own emotions rush out just like the pollen in the wind.

He digs his bitten down nails into the microphone, you taste blood from the roof of your mouth and the back of your throat.

It’s like he’s reading your mind. It’s like he’s peeling back your skin to peek inside.

And then you realize; he does know you.

You are the same blood.

Title: Hangman

Rating: R

Warning: Sad, boylove, etc.

Pairing: Tom/William (lol)

It all started with the sunrise; a fire erupting in the atmosphere behind polluted safety glass so all living things won’t smolder in its beauty.  One was all skin, bones and clothes manufactured by labels found scattered over Google.  The other was a photographer and a struggling musician with eyes for beauty and a heart of gold.  They were here by chance, a mistake even; one boy needed a shot to pay the rent, the other came here everyday to clear his head.  The photographer climbed the hill one morning, tired and slipping over the dew painted grass. Mr. Skin and Bones sat there, watching the other boy closely as he stepped into his territory. The sun started to come up, washing the night sky slowly away. The photographer took a few shots of the sky; the mixture of warm colors and cool colors with the splash of shade made a beautiful picture.  It was an awkward silence surrounding them –minus the clicking of his camera.  One coughed, the other looked to see a sentence forming from his lips.

            “Names’ Tom Conrad.”  He said striding towards him; his hand sticking out at he did this.  He frowned deeper then before if at all possible.

            “William Beckett.” he paused, taking Tom’s hand. “Call me Bill.”  

Tom took his hand like a gentleman, bowing slightly to kiss his knuckles softly, barely.  He smiled quickly, color rushing to his face.  This startled William.  Men usually did this to pretty women then they would dance or do something dramatic. Or so he saw in the movies.

            “Nice to meet you Bill.” He said, letting his hand drop to his side, on the grass before going back to his deserted camera. He continued to snap away.  He had seven really nice shots before he spoke again.

            “What time do you come up here?”  He added, “Is it always this beautiful?”  William pulled his sleeves over his hands before answering Tom.

            “Four in the morning, and yes, yes it is.”  He didn’t say much after that just watched the sun comes up fully; listening to Tom click away.  He didn’t leave until more than the occasional car was heard driving up the street.  He smiled sweetly, teeth white and eyes dancing.  He didn’t say his goodbyes, just pointed his camera in William’s direction and took a surprise picture, and then sprinted away

            The next morning, he brought coffee.   It was a vanilla flavor, it just so happened to be William’s favorite.  When Tom handed her the cup, William stared at him strangely before thanking him.   Tom was sporting a purple hoodie and The Smashing Pumpkins tour shirt.  He eyed Bill, sipping the coffee gently.  He walked around the top of the hill, snapping away at tangles of branches and dew-covered grass.  He smiled and faced the sky as the sun burst through the clouds.  Tom plopped down next to Bill. They watched the sunrise in silence.

            “Why do you come out here?” He asked, looking sideways at him as if he was unsure to ask.  William sighed and turned his head the other way. Reflections of memories sparked his eyes like the beginning of a forest fire.

            “I just need a time…to get over things…to calm down and think.”  And then he felt his hand on his shoulder.  It was warm and telling him everything was okay.  They barely even knew each other a day, but each could tell.  It was meant to be.   He turned to look at his hand. But before he could, he took it off, cold rushing to the spot.  Tom quickly stood up, waved goodbye and ran up the hill and out of site in the busy neighborhood behind them.

            After a whole month later, he kissed William.  It was a brief kiss, but deep and concerning.  They got to talk as they sat patiently for the sunrise.  William told Tom about his life, trouble at school, troubles with money and his rent, everything just came spilling past his lips to this pretty boy with hair better than his sisters.  And then Tom just kissed him, Soft hands cupping his face, bringing him deeper into the kiss.  And then he got up and ran away, just like every morning. 

William sat there for another five hours, trying to keep the taste of Tom Conrad on his lips. 

It was two more days until he saw Tom again.  He didn’t look at William, his head titled slightly so that half of it was in the shadows.  William stood and walked to him for the first time since they met.  Tom cowered from him and Bill saw it.  The bruise along the right side of his face was the same color as his shirt.  Tom sat down, William following suit after a minute of shock.  His fingers brushed the bruise; Tom still didn’t look into his eyes.

            “My father.” He whispered and suddenly his eyes were distant. “He isn’t exactly…straightedge.” He laughed dryly. William’s heart broke at the sound.  “ I don’t know what set him off, really.  He just-“ He paused before taking a rattled breath of air “I was the only punch-able thing around, I guess.”  He smiled slightly.  William took his hand and squeezed it. 

Over the next few weeks William and Tom’s relationship blossomed from little surprise kisses to Tom inviting Bill to his house for tea.  He was nervous and could barely get it out, when he asked.  William smiled and got the idea and said yes.  The date was scheduled a week after this because that weekend Tom had to go to New York.  He took Bill’s hand, scribbling his number on there.

            “Call me.” He whispered before jumping up and pecking him on the cheek.

The last morning before Tom left to New York, he waited with warm Chocolate muffins and vanilla coffee.  He smiled at William as he approached, camera in hand like always.  He sat next to him and he laid his head on his shoulder.  As the sun began to rise, he kissed Bill, and he burst out in song.

            “I can keep a secret if you keep me guessing; the flavor of your lips is enough to keep me here.”

William giggled, surprised.  Tom’s voice was husky but sweet; it warmed him from his toes to the top of his head.  Before he could question Tom about it, he was already standing up and making his way home.

Tom came home early Monday from New York and since William came out around four anyway, he decided to go say hello to her before dropping into a deep sleep. 

At eleven in the morning, he still wasn’t there. 

William came there the next morning and again, Tom didn’t show.  He didn’t answer his door when William knocked.  He called him, and no one picked up.  Every morning for three days he came to the same spot, waiting for hours.   He became desperate and searched for him in the phonebook.  He was the only ‘Conrad there’, so he drove to his house.   It was a small, red-bricked house on the corner of a random street.  Cars flanked the place.  People clad in black crowded his lawn.  William bit his lip hard, tasting something metallic as he jumped from his car.  He asked the closest person what happened to Tom, where he was, who were these people…

William refused to watch the news because everything on there was negative.  He was tired of hearing the murders of Baltimore, He was sick of Britney Spears; He didn’t need to hear about the War.  So, he wouldn’t know that Tom’s father killed his son on one drunk and angry night. He didn’t ask Tom, he thought it wasn’t his business.  He could of saved her; they were so alike, they were so in love. And William knew: The bruise, his father, everything.   They could of moved away; they could of escaped.  But he was so wrapped up in love and loneliness. 

He returned to their old spot a week after finding out.  The grass was covered in dew; the sun slowly washed away the night sky.  It was the same early morning as the first time he met Tom.   The pictures he took every other morning hung in his dark room; the pictures too beautiful for words were in frames next to his grave.  Bill didn’t know him very well, but he loved Tom and he missed him.   He stood up as the sun started to completely rise. The words itched his throat and burned his tounge as it came to his mind and before he knew it he was singing:

            “Don’t forget we have unfinished business; stories yet to unfold; tales that must be re-told; and I regret not knowing when to put an end to all this madness that keeps me wanting more.”

That afternoon he scribbled old Motion City Soundtrack lyrics on a worn piece of paper and placed it by her pictures.

            ‘You’re the echoes of my everything.  You’re the emptiness the world sings at night. You’re the laziness of the afternoon. You’re the reason I burst and why I bloom. You’re the leaky sink of sentiment; you’re the failed attempts I never could forget. You’re the metaphors I can’t create to comprehend this curse I call love.’

And with that behind him, Bill turned on his heel and walked away from Thomas ‘Tom’ Harper forever, without a single look back. Memories stored up in his heart and stomach, eating up everything with guilt.  He walked from something that could have been and should have been.  He’s the hangman; the one who ends it before it can drag on.  He’s not letting it.  William Beckett refuses to live like the rest of us.

Why are you so tiny? You can fit in the palm of my hand. You're so tiny. You're a seed in the wind. I'm watching you fly off but I'm tied to the ground. You stapled me to the ground. And now I can't scoop you up. You're too far.

Why are you so tiny? Why are you so small? Why can't I hold you close without breaking all your bones. Why can't I open my mouth when I need to tell you how beautiful you really are? Why can't I close it shut when I want to scream and yell and hurt you, hurt you so bad.  You're so broken already, what harm could it really do?  I yell, like a monster, you cradle your bones into your arms and hold tight, for this ride, it's the worst ride you've ever waited in line for.

You're killing me.  *All your good friend, all your best friends and all your close friends. Are burning. Are dying. Anddd, all your good friends, all your best friends and all your close friends are burning,* burning like your photographs, you like to burn your photogrpahs, you like to burn your shoes, you like to start at the bottoma nd work your way up.

Why are you so tiny? Why are you so small? Why can't I hold you close without breaking all your bones? What's the use? It's not just you anymore. I've got your mud on my jeans, I've got your mud on my new jeans. I've got you in my hair and on my clothes just like cigarette smoke. I've got you all in my mind like drugs, taking their time.  You think you're so clever? You think that you're hiding and that no one can see. But it's brighter than the sun,  more obvious than how the sky is blue and how the air is musty and sticking to our skin and how mixed up I am.  I'm so mixed up they should name a hurricane after me.

I asked you to stop. If you were a really good friend like you say you were. You would stop and let me breath.  I said I needed you but all you did was smile that same fake smile you've been wearing so cheaply like you bought it for a dollar. You said I need air, food, water, and love. And that you couldn't supply anything like that.  When I got home I ripped all my pillows up.  You're so stupid.  You're dragging us down like an anchor, an iceburg,

All your good friends, all your bestfriends and all your close friends are burning. Annnnd all your good friends, all your bestfriends and all your close firneds are burning, burning like my eyes, another sleepless night burning photograph ashes where I can see a tiny glimpse of the twinkle in your eyes, a thousand stars on an arizona night oh no, you're coming back. I've gotten the shots to keep you away, you keep coming back, smokey and hazy from the cracks in the door frame.

I asked you to hold on to me.  I aksed you to put down the stapler that would later keep me anchored down. You reeked of pills and deathbed sweat and I couldn't breaht right and you pushed me. You're always pushing me down like we're in lust and I'm some dirty whore. You're pushing me down. All I want to do is save you. All I ever wanted to do was save you. All I ever wished for, all I ever worked for, all I ever dreamt of was saving you. How can you be saved, when I know you want to, when all you do is drive over all your friends and loved ones who have the ropes and the populaur mechanics to help you down. You killed us all and now what's left? Ah, you're left too high, too high to come down. We only wanted you down so we could break all your bones and feed you too much food on the holidays and make you better. 

You're so tiny. So tiny and gray. They should of carved something bigger, found something brighter. Marble is horrible on your bones.  But this is what you've always wanted.  Humans never learn to stop living a lie.

Tell me what you really think about me! I'm only doing this because I made a anon post on LJ. I'm very curious to know what everyone thinks.  Be brutually honest, please.  I'm not bullshitting you, say whatever, please.

Thanks!

(if this shows up highlighted in green, I'm sorry.I don't know what it is...)

            The yellow room around you starts to spin.  It’s odd in an artsy way, like a painter mixing colors.  Everything starts fading to black and you admit, in your mind, you’re a little scared.  You say it out loud to your nonexistent audience before collapsing on the floor.

            You can’t take the fact that the world around you is falling.  You can hear the news on, even though you didn’t turn the news on, you turned on a game show.  It’s on every channel; the end of the world is now the most documented event in history.  That sucks, you say in your mind, because there’s not going to be anyone to talk about it in five years.  You hear what’s going on through the floorboards you refuse to leave.  You see the glare of something exciting but you’re not very excited. In fact, you’re sick to your stomach.  Feeling bile creep up your throat like a spider, you army-crawl to your bathroom.  The tile is nice and cool against your throbbing head.  You hate your mind but it’s the only friend you have right now.  You kneel before the toilet, relaxing your head on the rim.  It sooths you but only halfway fore, there’s a part of you that will never be soothed. 

            You’re laughing too hard right now.  No one’s told a joke, the news is on the comedy station, and the radio is nothing but warnings.  Your mind thinks it’s funny that your friends and family thought you were crazy before.  It thinks it’s damn hilarious that they’re the crazy ones and you were right all along. They wanted to take you away, you and your mind. Here you are, waiting for them to take you away. But that’s right, your mind chuckles, they’re dead.

            Aliens.  They call them Aliens.  The news station pulls on masks showing the proper way to put them on.  This is the fifth time they’ve done this. It’s useless because everyone but you and your mind and the aliens are dead.  They say the aliens have put diseases in the air.  They learned from our mistakes and released HIV/Aids, Cancer, Ebola, the Black Plague, and Rage disease in the air.  Rage disease was classified but the Aliens, they’re smart. They read minds and found out how to make it and now they’re killing us with it.  No, they’re killing them.  You built this house so not even a bomb could get in. You were smarter than the aliens; they don’t know you. Those fuckers couldn’t get into your head. Why? Because you thought three steps before them, you took notes from crazed Alien ‘experts’. Now, you’re the only human left.  How did that work out?

            You wake up in a dim yellow light and silence.  You fell asleep to screams of pain and gunshots.  You presume they tried to destroy the aliens.  Key word: Tried.  You lift yourself off the floor and peer into the security room.  There’s only one outside camera working.  You see nothing but dead bodies and cars on fire. You see one body, a teenager, with his arm wrapped around a big screen television box.  You laugh so hard you start to cry. These turns into full fledge sobbing. You’re finally alone, this isn’t how you wanted it. You want them to take you away, you want your friends to visit you, and you want to be comforted with false senses of security. You want nothing more than to live.   You stand there, watching your brightly colored rooms.  Then you see something flashing.  It’s your cell-phone, which is still in the yellow room.  It’s flashing like it does when someone calls you…

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Should this continue? I plan to, but I want to know :)

Also, I want some love in it. Should it be gay-themed, straight, no love. If there's going to be love, give me a name please (of the other person)