one million actions

Kingdom in the Sky

2007-07-10T17:07:26Z

So, that subject title, irrelevent. I am bored out of my mind, and everyone I know except me is busy, plus, I have to sleep on the floor. THe world is terribly injust, but I suppose I'll survive. If you're bored or feeling generous, leave a comment, my human contact this summer has been, on a scale of one to ten, .5

Oh! Harry Potter (the book) comes out in 19 days, and the movie is out..tomorrow? Oh, I'm just so not with it, I didn't even know what day it was until like...just now. I am a sad person.

Bored

2007-06-17T22:22:18Z

Hi everyone, another meaningless journal entry par moi. School is basically out (onemoreweekonemoreweek) and I finished my HUGE french project so, I'm very chillaxed. Because I'm a loser I had a Charmed marathon (someone out there knows EXACTLY which show I'm talking about, com'on, fess up...) and ate a lot of popcorn. I still consider season 7 to be the final season, mostly because seasons 8 and 9 aren't offered here in ********* <-------not telling ;). Hope everyone's been good lately, summer is here! Even if it was cold yesterday (I kid you not, sweaters were riquired, and it's June so I classify that as cold).

**Edit**The first line is wonky and I don't know why...or I'm seeing things.

Hello all!

2007-06-04T19:32:11Z

So school is almost out and I'm going on a three day band trip on Wednesday, so YEAH! Ugh, I have to start and finish a book in french by June 15th, I'mma have to hurry myself up... I hope everyone has got a fun summer planned out. Drop a line, it's nice to talk to people. This journal is so pointless... MMVAs are soon...but I don't think anyone cool is nominated, that's what you get for watching MuchMusic just because you're bored. Hope everyone had a great weekend!

Prompts!!

2007-04-10T20:10:45Z

I am (as always) taking prompts, so if you have one, just go a head and leave a comment.

Eh

2007-04-09T22:06:19Z

Well, life is boring, so I thought I'd write in my journal. I'm a bad poster aren't I. If you happen to stumble across my journal drop a line...please.

loving4tomorrow @ 2007-03-15T20:50:00

2007-03-16T00:01:33Z

Title:Red
Author: loving4tomorrow
Rating:eh, PG14, maaaybe R, it's up for grabs really.
Summary:At one point in time, it held some rather nice red wine, Torciano Fragolino if my memory serves me correct.
Disclaimer:Fiiiiiiiiicccccccccttttttttttiiiiiiiioooooooooonnnnnnnnnnnn
Author Notes:Thank you to chocfreak for being the best beta I've ever had. Yes, you other two don't get any recognition cause you never contacted me back.

It’s empty. The house that is. The only thing inside it is a glass, the glass is empty too. It wasn’t always empty though. At one point in time, it held some rather nice red wine, Torciano Fragolino if my memory serves me correct. It spilled during your last fight, it was knocked off the table as you two wrestled spilling its contents onto the new white rug you’d bought the other day. Funny that, that’s what set you off. Years of cheating and drunken slurs towards you from him, and you finally snapped because he spilt some goddamned wine.

The rug still has those shades of crimson, like blood that was left out to dry, I couldn’t get the stains out, no matter how much I tried. I remember walking through the door; everything had a red tint. The rug was red, from the wine and his life, your best dress pants soaking it up just as well as the fibres of your latest shopping splurge. I lived in the house for three more years, even after you were locked away for killing my father. I’d say “your husband” but that didn’t mean anything to either of you,till death do us apart doesn’t mean anything anymore either. You both cheated and fought over inane things, the big things like your debt left to fester quietly in the corners of the house like some wretched insane anger waiting for that perfect moment to break out.

After I was left alone, I bought all new furniture, but I never went into the dining room, never picked up that stupid glass. I never washed the walls, ridding it of its red shade that had lingered through the entire house after the murder. But now, I’m very sick of it. I’m sick of you, my own mother who’s trying to convince me to go to the police, to tell them it was self-defense. Get me out of this stupid place sweet heart, you say to me. I say no and you start to scream and cry and curse, and yell threats through the bullet-proof glass believing that it would make me change my mind.

So now, the entire street is basking in an angry red glow, as that stupid house starts to burn down, with that empty glass inside. I won’t be surprised when they rummage through the remains and ashes, they ‘d find a crystal wine glass, laying on its side, probably half-melted under the destruction it caused. Because really, I can’t help but feel that it’s all that wine glass’ fault, even though it’s already empty now. I can’t help but wish that it’d been empty that day too.

HELP!!

2007-02-21T01:41:22Z

So that subject title makes it sound worse than it is. See, I need a beta. I've already had two people say they'd do that, but they've fallen off the face of the earth and didn't tell me so I figure I'd best find a new one. This translates into every time I try talking to them they aren't there or are ignoring me, so I really want some one RELIABLE who has good grammar and doesn't mind my crazy hours of operation. So, if anyone decides that they want to beta, please leave contact information and I'll be sure to get back to you ASAP.

Thanks to anyone who offers,
Elle

Seasons

2007-02-18T02:10:02Z

TitleSeasons (because I'm creative like that)
AuthorIsn't it obvious......
PairingZacky/optional (I was thinking Syn but that's just because it's my OPT, my other choice was Jimmy)
POV ?? You pick (please tell me who you pick, I want to know, just because.
DisclaimerI hope it's not real, because it would be horrible.
Author's NotesI'M SO SORRY TO chocfreak! I know I promised this sooner but my computer kept shutting down when ever I tried to update. PLEASE FORGIVE ME! Anyway...this is dedicated to you because you're rather amasing.
WarningsAngst, drabble. This is only 216 words, it's very short.

Winter

You always loved winter, you loved the way the icicles hung so delicately from the tree branches. I wish we’d had one more winter.

Fall

You loved fall because it was so clean. You loved how the leaves danced in the wind, the colours swirling and skittering across the asphalt, barely tangible. We should have had one more fall.

Summer

You loved and adored summer, the warm breezes and how the ocean always looked a little less dangerous in the bright, clear daylight. You loved how it seemed so youthful and carefree. I’d kill for one more summer.

Spring

Spring was the only season you didn’t completely love, though you liked it none the less. You always said it represented a new beginning, it represented life, and you loved life. You also loved beauty, which you were able to see in everything and everyone but yourself. I wish we had had one more spring, so that maybe, I could have made you seen the beauty I saw. Maybe, if we’d had one more spring, you’d have loved life, and yourself, and you’d be here beside me. But maybes don’t change a thing Zacky, no matter how many maybes I encounter in life, you’ll always be gone.

~ Zacky Baker
1981-2007
Friend, lover, brother, son and beautiful person.
RIP

Teach me How to Breath

2007-02-11T03:38:44Z

Title:Teach me How to Breath
Author: loving4tomorrow
Rating:I'd say PG-13, depending how sensitive you are
Pairing:This actually started as a FFTL slash thing, but it didn't fit in the end. You can chose though I was thinking Spencer/Jon
POV:3rd, because I suck when writing any other POV
Summary:People are always oblivious to what is blatantly obvious
Disclaimer:Not real, at all.
Author Notes:Someone dies and I wrote this to get over writter's block so bear with me. Just a warning. Pretty please comment! Please, I could really use the cheering up. This started off as a FFTL slash, but I changed it to P!ATD because it seemed to fit better.

His feet hit the brick continuously. Onetwo onetwo, over and over. Above him are clouds, below him, he isn’t sure, he refuses to look down. The air is dry and hot, the wind offering no relief. Beside him are a book and some charcoal, he doesn’t touch them, his muse is gone.

He sits there, on top of that run-down apartment building in down town LA for centuries, or maybe hours, until the rain starts. He’d finally managed to draw something, but now, now the rain will ruin it, and he can’t bring himself to care. He figured it wasn’t any good anyhow. He yanks the page out of the notebook and lets the wind rip it out of his group.

He watches as it flutters to the ground, landing in the middle of the basically empty street. He watches as a young man - boy maybe – darts into the middle of the road, salvaging the artwork and ducks under a canopy. He watches as a taxi turns down the street and as the boy looks up at him.

The boy looks up at the man on the roof, and knows what’s about to happen, even if the man himself doesn’t. Slowly the man gets up to leave then changes his mind. He takes one last look at the boy, the boy who clearly understands, and joins reality.

People scream as the man lands among them, they hadn’t seen it coming. People are always oblivious to what is blatantly obvious. Shaking his head the boy dials the local police station at the near by pay phone, explaining what happened. As the police arrive, clearing away the ugly scene from the busy people’s lives, the boy takes one last look at the picture before leaving it in the street, and clearing the scene himself.

It was simply a picture of a sidewalk with an angle imprinted on it, as if someone had made a snowangel in the wet cement. Just like tomorrow the man will simply be a heartbroken artist who tried to follow his inspiration on it’s flighty path. Just like tomorrow the boy will simply be just another victim of Runaway Teen Syndrome.

Three days later the boy passes a freshly laid sidewalk. Grinning, he lays back in it, moving his arms in legs like some many children before him. Nimbly he gets up, admiring his work. As an afterthought he rips off the “protective plastic” and writes in neat scripture ‘in memory of Inspiration’.

-la fin

Dreamer Doesn't Want to Dream

2007-02-09T00:45:29Z

Title:Dreamer Doesn't Want to Dream
Author: loving4tomorrow
Rating:PG
Pairing:Ryan/Brendon (no more nicknames, I'm training myself to stop using them)
POV:Third
Summary:Because as much as people like the idea of magic, they don’t actually want it to be real, that’d make things different. Things would change, and no one wants that.
Disclaimer:Not real, and I don't want it to be, ever.
WarningCharacter death (kinda), slight depression, drabble. You have been warned.
Dedicationschocfreak Because you're fabulous. And I promised three posts, here's number one!

There are many ways to see what isn’t there. Take anorexics for instance, they never eat, and exercise, but they always manage to see what isn’t there fat. Ryan sympathised with them completely.

Then of course there are the people who sit around in audiences of magic shows, seeing magic and other mind-blowing things that aren’t there. Because really it’s just a whole lot of knobs and doors and props, and everyone knows it, but they revel in the idea that something out there could really be, magical. Brendon hates those people.

Brendon hates them because they’re happy, at least for that hour, they’re seeing illusions, tricks of the mind, but they don’t leave them heart broken and wishing that maybe, juts maybe it was real. Because as much as people like the idea of magic, they don’t actually want it to be real, that’d make things different. Things would change, and no one wants that. Except maybe Brendon.

Brendon wants things to be the way they were, tour buses and laughter and Pete and Spencer and Jon and Ryan. But they won’t go back to that, because Brendon threw it all away. Now there’s no tour buses, no Pete or Jon or Spencer, not for Brendon, and there will never be Ryan.

Why not you ask? Because Ryan had seen what wasn’t there, and now Brendon sees what isn’t there. Ryan saw love, and Brendon sees Ryan.

Let's Dance

2007-02-06T22:53:18Z

Title: Let's Dance
Author: loving4tomorrow
Rating:G
POV:Ryan's
Summary:I destroyed not only my family, but my father too, and was now turning on the only other thing that ever meant anything to me. The band.
Disclaimer:I do not KNOW the people in this story and I do not OWN them. this is FICTION, it's fake.
Author Notes:This was just something I put together really quickly, constructive critism is appreciated.

Let's Dance

Ever since Brent left, there’s been a promise among the members of Panic! To make sure that everyone was at least content. Of course we never actually said that this is what we would do, it was an unspoken agreement, if you would. But, like everything else in life, this wasn’t as easy as it sounded. Jon and I had had a bit of a falling out, about what I can’t remember though it was probably, no undoubtedly, my fault. As a child my home life had left much to be desired, my father was an alcoholic and my mother was a total flake. I had spent my teenage years under the impression, one that turned out to be true, that I was the problem source of my father’s drinking. My dad never hit me when he was drunk, he just yelled. A lot.

My mother was a hippie in every sense of the word, and had left when I turned twelve, apparently raising a boy was too stressful. This was when my dad started drinking, so, as far as I can tell, I destroyed not only my family, but my father too, and was now turning on the only other thing that ever meant anything to me. The band.

Looking back now, I think the fight was about me being moody, secretive, and pretty much everything that Jon, Brendon, Spencer weren’t. I’ve always had a soft spot for Jon, and a dislike for having people mad at me, so combine the two, and you’ve got a very snarky Ryan.

I was walking without any clue as to where I was going, knowing only that I’d get there before morning, Las Vegas was the city of sinners and fakes in my opinion. It was raining which was a rare occasion in a desert town like Las Vegas, but I didn’t mind. I loved playing in the rain, it was a secret of mine that nobody, not even Spencer knew how much I loved it, or that I even did it.

I stopped at the top of the hill I’d been climbing, and was surprised to find myself on the crest just above the Strip. Any other night the lights and glitter of Vegas would stick out obnoxiously against the dark sky, but tonight they were veiled slightly by the rain, giving them an almost magical look. By now I was beyond wet, drenched or even sopping, I was practically liquefied I was so wet, but I didn’t even care.

I was looking down at the Strip, but not really seeing it, I had just had a flashback.

“Ry, I’m bored” my cousin Myra said. It was July 2003, and we were at a family reunion, which was basically just an excuse to critique each and every person attending the gathering, and openly gossiping about anyone who had the nerve not to come.
I looked at my twelve year old cousin and blinked, she had always been my favorite, I don’t know why, maybe it was the way she always had something sarcastic to mutter to me after our Aunt Claire, my father's older sister, said something that was not exactly flattering, or maybe it was the way she told off our other cousins whenever they played ‘let’s make fun of Ryan’. Whatever it was she was my favorite, but right now she was being rather annoying.
“Well what do you want me to do about it Myra.” I asked moodily, feeling bad even as I said it.
She thought for a moment, ignoring my tone, before grinning at me “come dance with me, Ry-Ry.” She said pouting childishly when I started to shake my head. I allowed her to tug me outside where it was raining.
“May I have this dance,” I said, giving in and bowing down to a ridiculously low level. She pretended to contemplate this for a moment, before nodding and lacing our fingers together.
I span her in a circle and she laughed, we did similar things for the next two hours, until we were too cold to move as nimbly as we had been.
We trudged inside to find everyone looking at us, “you look like a drowned rat.” Said David, our oldest, and from that point our least favorite cousin.
Myra blinked at him, and I could practically hear her comeback forming, “well David, not all of us are as used to totally shutting of our brains and sitting through the mind numbing chatter that is considered conversation by your section of the family, and therefore, had to go do something.” And with that, she grabbed a piece of the cake they were serving and stalked off.

I felt someone sit down beside me and looked to my left to see Jon. “Hello.” He said quietly, looking in my direction, but not straight at me.

I took a moment to study him before answering. He was biting his lip, and avoiding eye contact, both of these things were telling me that he felt bad and was here to apologise. “Hey Jon.” I said lacing my fingers with his. He looked at me, surprised by the gesture and I could see his jaw working as he tried to formulate a sentence. “I’m sorry.” I said, feeling it had to be said, and knowing that I had to be the one to say it.

His eyes locked with mine and he nodded, “It’s okay and I’m… I’m sorry too.” I smiled at him and scooted closer to him, resting my head on his shoulder. We sat like that for half an hour, getting wetter and wetter with every passing second. Jon’s eyes were locked on our joined hands, possibly wondering why we were still holding hands. I rubbed my thumb across the top of his hand. “Ryan…” he started before dying off “I uhh, I really… I really do like you, but uhh, only as a friend.” He stuttered this out and I laughed. “Ryan?” He squeaked, clearly thinking I had lost it.

“Don’t worry Jon, I don’t think of you that way, do you want me to stop holding your hand?” I asked. He started to nod, then shook his head. “No, he said, “I don’t.” I smiled and looked back down on the Strip. I stood up, Jon quickly following me. I turned to him and grinned widely and said, “come dance with me.”

Lala.

2006-11-26T21:47:05Z

Hmm, I'm so insanely busy, yet still bored, weird. I also have writer's block, don't hate me.

None

2006-11-20T23:52:01Z

I've just realised, this is quite possibly the most redundant LiveJournal account ever created. Maybe I'll go join a connunity...nah, I'm good with the ones I'm in, OHHHH, I'll go work on my story, I'm brilliant.

Icons

2006-10-21T15:22:16Z

Okay, so my icon is by i_eaticons, if it isn't credited correctly, please don't yell at me, I'm really bad at anything that includes computers. I really did TRY to credit the creator, please tell me if I didn't.

loving4tomorrow @ 2006-10-21T11:40:00

2006-10-21T14:41:59Z

Well, life is very boring at the moment. I'm babysitting a lot, which, I hate by the way. I do however get to go the From First to Last concert in Toronto, I am very happy. It's my mommy's birthday. Happy birthday mommy!

Story time

2006-10-05T19:06:45Z

Hmm, I generly don't put much here so.... go check out my story, the next part is out.

Just a little info...

2006-09-24T18:24:46Z

I'm not going to use this journal to make a continuous story, but I'll be writing short stories if people like those I'll start a real story, but only if people ask me to.