Fading Moon, Bottled Star

Unfinished (With Fear in Your Smile) [5/?]

2010-03-18T20:20:00Z

Title: Unfinished (With Fear in Your Smile) [5]
Author: longerthanwedo
Beta: melody_so_sweet
Pairing: Brendon/Ryan for now.
Rating: PG-13
POV: 3^rd, Brendon centric.
Summary: He’s writing in blood; a feeble attempt to finish the story. The story of his life, of him and him and him. It’s a story of life, of love, of
lions and fireworks and years gone by. It’s a story of blood, plenty of blood.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters. Title and inspiration from Something Corporate.
Author’s Note: I just realized that this story is probably not going to be much longer. It’s not the kind with plot twists and stuff. Ah well. Thanks to everyone who comments, and if you haven’t I’d love to hear from you!

Prologue I Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4

The sunset was almost blinding.

It was shrunken and covered in mud with “objects in mirror are closer than they appear” stamped across the bottom, but Brendon’s eyes kept making their way back, drinking in red and gold and purple as land rushed by outside the window. The sound of Ryan’s humming rung in his ears.

There were a dozen shortcuts between here and his house, but Brendon kept them to himself. Ryan was driving beside him, one hand on the wheel and the other in the middle, between the seats, grasping Brendon’s loosely and comfortably. He thought he could maybe stay here, driving in circles, and not want to ever get out.

The scent of Ryan’s car was familiar in an odd way and Brendon leaned back in the seat, unconsciously hoping the smell would sink into his clothes and follow him home.

Home. The car pulled into the driveway, and when the direction changed the sunset slid out of the mirror. Brendon smiled at Ryan and their hands fell apart.

Outside the car the reds and golds in the sky were multiplied, stretching from one corner of Brendon’s vision to the opposite. He turned, and then Ryan’s eyes and his smile blocked the light. He leaned forward, and their lips, burned slightly upward at the corners, locked. He closed his eyes, fingers brushing curly brown hair, and memorized the taste of Ryan along with the smell.

When he opened his eyes it was to catch Ryan’s parting wave and grin, and then the car drove off and he was left staring at the sunset once more, imagining that Ryan’s face was swirling in the colors.

Brendon thought maybe he should start measuring time in sunsets instead of hours, minutes, and days. It seemed like the time just before dark was the time he wished would drag on forever, leaving him bathed in soft fading light.

Two and a half sunsets ago, Ryan had kissed Brendon outside his door. Now the not-quite-night sky was stretched out in front of them, undiluted and unrelenting, as they lay side-by-side, sprawled out on the roof of Ryan’s apartment building. It had been Ryan’s idea. Spend a night with the night, with each other, in the warm but not too warm air of January. Brendon hadn’t needed to answer, he just nodded his head and pressed his “yes” without hesitation to Ryan’s lips.

They lay side by side, shoulder to hip, knee to ankle, and Brendon could feel the warmth that seeped subtly from Ryan’s body to his. He wondered if Ryan felt it too.

Brendon’s eyes wandered from the sky to Ryan’s upturned face, and he tried to imagine, to picture the thoughts swirling around in the other man’s brain. It was hard, though, because all Brendon could picture was Ryan. His own mind was filled with his face, his smile, his eyes and his lips, and he couldn’t guess what Ryan was thinking because it probably wasn’t just about Brendon. Ryan probably didn’t look at the sunset and see the precise shade of gold that appeared in Brendon’s eyes, he probably didn’t see the reddish-pink of Brendon’s lips.

Brendon decided it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if he loved Ryan more than Ryan loved him, because they were together and that was all he needed.

He stared at Ryan’s profile and the sun slowly, slowly disappeared.

The next sunset was seen through a window; glimpsed briefly in scattered flashes as Brendon’s eyes flew open, shut, open again. He could hardly distinguish the bright flashes of color through the glass and the light behind his eyelids as his hands memorized Ryan’s skin and Ryan’s lips marked his neck.

This sunset, though, two seconds at a time and barely noticed, was the one Brendon knew in the back of his reeling mind that he would never forget.

Even when the sun was gone he could still feel it, feel the warmth, though he wasn’t sure if it was warmth from the sun or from the person lying beside him. He turned onto his side, relaxing, a sleepy smile on his face, and with one last kiss from Ryan, let his eyes slip closed.

Icons: Containing James Marsters in a dress.

2010-03-18T03:26:35Z

22 Buffy the Vampire Slayer
20 Chance (Amber Benson, James Marsters [in a dress], & Andy Hallett)
13 James Marsters
20 Sarah Michelle Gellar

Preview:

Comment, credit, don't change, don't hotlink, and enjoy. :)

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

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BtVS: Amends

2010-03-16T01:03:52Z

35 Icons made for fantas_magoria .
BtVS 3x10 "Amends"

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Unfinished (With Fear in Your Smile) [4/?]

2010-03-09T21:37:50Z

Title: Unfinished (With Fear in Your Smile) [4]
Author: longerthanwedo
Beta: melody_so_sweet
Pairing: Brendon/Ryan for now.
Rating: PG-13
POV: 3^rd, Brendon centric.
Summary: He’s writing in blood; a feeble attempt to finish the story. The story of his life, of him and him and him. It’s a story of life, of love, of lions and fireworks and years gone by. It’s a story of blood, plenty of blood.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters. Title and inspiration from Something Corporate.
Author’s Note: Plot’s progressing, yay. Thanks to those who have commented so far, and any lurkers feel free to let me know who’s there! :)

Prologue I Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3

No matter how smoothly he walked, Brendon's camera swung on its strap and bounced against his chest. He could have been floating, and it would have still swung there, pushed by only the expanding of his lungs and the beating of his heart.

He curled his fingers around the side of the camera and stilled it.

Brendon was walking, but he didn't exactly know where. He didn't have an agenda, a plan, or work. Saturday in December, and the sun was shining. It beat down upon the city, bright and demanding, and if there had been snow it would have melted underfoot. Every couple of seconds he would stop, lift his camera, and snap at the sun or the trees or a crack in the sidewalk.

Today felt like the first day of spring.

Sometimes Brendon had the urge to point his lens at one of the people on the street, at a face smiling or laughing or serious and sad. He wanted to capture the expression, but he never did, he never had the courage to push the button.

Because in general, Brendon didn’t talk to people. He didn’t socialize outside of work and a few friends, he didn’t keep in touch with high school peers, and he certainly didn’t fill his memory card with faces he would never get close to

His photo albums, sitting on top of a slightly dusty dresser, were filled with scenery and fish. He didn’t think there was a single portrait in there, in all his years of picture memories.

Brendon walked until the sun had moved from in front of his eyes until it warmed the back of his head, and he wondered what time it was. He checked his nonexistent watch, then decided to tell the time by the rumbling in his stomach. His eyes moved, back and forth, scanning store windows, cafés, glowing neon open signs. One sign was different from the others; it made him smile and duck inside.

There were only a few people in front of him, waiting to sit, and none of them were families.

“Hello, how many are with you today?”

Brendon heard the familiar voice and grinned, drumming his fingers on the side of his camera and craning his neck to see over taller heads and broader shoulders. He hardly glanced at the poster on the wall, and when the line disintegrated Brendon was left with his grin in front of Ryan’s, and Ryan’s was just as big if not a little more surprised. Brendon felt like hugging him, but didn’t and waved instead.

Ryan waved back, but played the waiter card, repeating his line.

“Well, maybe…” Brendon looked at Ryan, eyebrows raised. “Maybe two?”

Ryan looked around, contemplating. “I get off in half an hour,” he said, voice quiet, leaning towards Brendon a bit and Brendon smiled, slipping a sneaky thumbs up out from beneath his sleeve. Then, “Your seat will be ready in just a few minutes, sir.”

Brendon gave him one last grin and shuffled off to the chair in the corner, a familiar sense of déjà vu settling over him as he smiled and looked up at the ceiling.

He blinked his eyes closed, a long blink, and Ryan’s were there, all lions and fireflies and Brendon thought maybe he could fall in love with Ryan. Maybe, if he was given the chance. But he didn’t want to think too much on it, because he doubted he would. He doubted Ryan would let him fall in love, because no one had let him before. No one had ever given him the chance to love them. He blinked his eyes, open, and chased away those visions with red-cased fluorescent light.

There was no use wondering.

“Brendon!”

He stood up as if someone had tugged on a leash, the sound of his name an instant beacon. He followed Ryan to a table, tucked in the back corner of the restaurant, and gave him a smile and a thank you before looking down at the menu.

Somehow he wasn’t that hungry anymore. He ordered a coffee anyway, and sipped it slowly, one mouthful at a time for all of that half hour, until the liquid had cooled and soothed his slightly burnt tongue. He stared at the grain in the tabletop, shiny and coated with wax, and his mind didn’t contemplate much of anything, until a hand appeared in his line of sight, short fingernails contrasting against the wood.

He looked up.

“You done with that coffee?” Ryan asked, smirk in his voice, and Brendon nodded. “Want to walk? It’s so nice out.”

Brendon nodded again and stood up, an inch of cold coffee left on the table.

Somehow the sun seemed brighter than it was when he entered the building. Maybe it was the difference in time, or just that his eyes had gotten used to the dim lighting of the café, but Brendon found it almost blinding. He glanced at Ryan, with his arms swinging and the tips of his hair glowing orange and blowing, and it seemed to get even brighter.

They walked slowly, aimlessly, silently. Brendon’s camera bounced against his chest.

He looked down at it, at the light reflecting off the slightly scratched metal, and his hands itched. He curled his fingers around the side.

Ryan’s tongue darted out, licked his lips. Yet another reflective surface.

Brendon raised the camera, thinking that he didn’t have to stay the same, the same as he’d always been. He didn’t have to sit at his house with his pictures of fish. Because now, now he had the real thing. Because of Ryan, he had a real fish instead of just photos, and he thought why not and aimed at Ryan’s profile. Click.

Ryan turned to face Brendon, chuckling. “Hey,” he said with faux indignation and Brendon grinned. He snapped another photo.

Ryan reached for the camera, laughing now, and said, “Let me see!”

Brendon leaned in, letting Ryan peek at the display. Ryan frowned, not pleased, lower lip stuck out and tried to locate the delete button. Brendon jerked the camera out of his reach.

“Hey now, that’s a good photo!”

Ryan shook his head disbelievingly. “I didn’t even have time to get ready!”

“Okay, now. Get ready. 3…2…1…”

Ryan scowled as Brendon took a third picture. “Give it to me!” he whined, and crowded Brendon, grabbing his shoulder as Brendon held the camera behind his back.

Brendon looked at Ryan’s eyes and thought, why shouldn’t I wonder? Why should I let this be just another chance slipped by?

Ryan caught hold of his arm and yanked the camera up to eye level. Brendon hardly resisted - the sun in Ryan’s eyelashes was enough to weaken his grip – and in this moment, he couldn’t find a reason. He couldn’t find a reason not to, so he leaned in and pressed his mouth to Ryan’s.

Ryan’s hand stopped tugging and his eyes closed and Brendon’s finger came down on the shutter.

Click.

30 "The Wish" Icons

2010-03-08T20:55:45Z

Here are 30 very, very quick icons made for fantas_magoria.

Comment, credit, don't change, don't hotlink.

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Icons for whedon20in20

2010-03-03T04:39:21Z

Here are 20 icons made for whedon20in20 .
This is my first attempt at any kind of challenge like this, and of course I got excited and finished way early.
Comments are love, credit is awesome. Don't change, hotlink, etc. Enjoy!

Preview:

THEMES

Out of Gas	Reptile Boy	Passion	Jaynestown	Band Candy


That Vision Thing	School Hard	Beneath You	Phases	Dead Man's Party

CATEGORY - SAME TIME, SAME PLACE

1	2	3	4	5

ARTIST'S CHOICE

1	2	3	4	5

Unfinished (With Fear in Your Smile) [3/?]

2010-02-27T20:50:40Z

Title: Unfinished (With Fear in Your Smile) [3]
Author: longerthanwedo
Beta: melody_so_sweet
Pairing: Brendon/Ryan for now.
Rating: PG-13
POV: 3^rd, Brendon centric.
Summary: He’s writing in blood; a feeble attempt to finish the story. The story of his life, of him and him and him. It’s a story of life, of love, of lions and fireworks and years gone by. It’s a story of blood, plenty of blood.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters. Title and inspiration from Something Corporate.
Author’s Note: This one took a little longer, sorry about that, but I’m trying to figure out plot stuff. Thank you to those who have commented on this, and to any who haven’t, I’d love to know who you are. :) Also, I made a banner that I'll probably be re-doing because I did it kinda fast.

Prologue I Chapter 1 I Chapter 2

If he squinted his eyes, the textured paint on the ceiling looked almost like a cloudy sky. He wanted to say it looked like stars, but the dawn was too light and the white speckles too frequent. Still, he could imagine. He imagined this was what his grandfather saw when he followed the circus, sleeping outside, staring at the same speckled sky over every town he passed through.

Brendon sighed and rolled over. He didn’t know why his mind always went back to the circus. He thought maybe, maybe it was because of Ryan.

Brendon looked up. Ryan’s arm was hanging over the side of the bed and cast a shadow that landed just next to Brendon’s arm.

Maybe it was because the first time he talked to Ryan, they talked about the circus. Maybe it was because Ryan had the eyes of a lion by day, and the eyes of a firefly by night. But Brendon couldn’t see Ryan’s eyes, and he knew they were probably closed in the early hour.

He lifted his wrist and squinted at his watch, glasses still lying beside him, half unfolded. He sighed and pulled himself up, carefully untangling his limbs from sheets and blankets Ryan had scrounged up from cupboards and behind beds. He had to be at work soon. He smoothed his rumpled shirt, which was the same one he had on yesterday, and shrugged to himself. He didn’t think anyone would even notice, the way they sometimes didn’t notice if he was there.

Stretching, he looked up. The ceiling didn’t look like sky from this angle. It was a shame, he thought, that everything looked so much better when he was almost sleeping.

Ryan stirred on the bed and Brendon looked down at him. His eyes were still closed. Brendon turned and walked silently out of the bedroom.

A pen was lying on the table, half buried amongst scraps of paper, some with official looking type, and some with scrawled sentences that Brendon guessed were Ryan’s own. He picked up a scrap and scribbled a note on the back.

Ryan –

I went to work. Didn’t want to wake you. Thanks for letting me stay over.

- Brendon

Brendon never had been much for writing.

He slipped out the door into the warming air.

Brendon worked at a fish store. Technically it was a pet store, but he was in charge of the fish room. The fish room, which was really a wall on the right next to the counter, lined with aquariums, ranging in size and filled with fish ranging in color.

Brendon loved the fish. He loved the way they floated, scales shimmering and wet eyes blinking in the water he cleaned meticulously every day. He loved the way they seemed almost like an alien species, living in a habitat so different from his own, and yet integrated with the lifestyle of humans. They lived in people’s houses, but they were encased in their own bubble, their own world. They fascinated him.

When he entered the shop in the morning he was always the first one there. He opened the blinds, just the right amount so that the sunshine streamed in the glass and glinted off the fish scales, casting perfect prisms around the room and into his eyes.

He sighed, wishing he could bring one of them home and make his room full of light.

After he fed the fish, Brendon really had nothing else to do until the customers started filtering into the shop. He sat behind the desk and let his mind wander, wishing he had his camera. Usually he brought it to work with him, relying on his inspiration to keep him occupied as the hours dragged by. But he hadn’t gone home last night, so he had nothing to do but fiddle with his fingers as he stared at the sun through the square window at the top of the door.

It was so easy to lose track of time when he didn’t pay attention. All he noticed was the sun moving slightly across his face, and the flash and sound of a bell every time someone opened the door, which wasn’t often. And he wasn’t in charge of customers. He watched time pass without realizing it, and sometimes he thought that was sad. It was sad that he couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to his own life passing, and he wanted to do something, live every moment like people in movies said, but he didn’t think he could.

Ring, the door opened. The usual flash of sun made him squint his eyes, and he thought he must have fallen asleep because why else would Ryan be in his pet shop?

He furrowed his eyebrows and squinted some more, but Ryan waved and smiled at him and he knew it wasn’t just his mind running away again.

Ryan was casual, glancing around the shop as he made his way to the counter.

“Hey,” he greeted, nonchalant and monotone.

“Um, hi. What are you doing here?” Brendon hadn’t meant to sound accusatory and he smiled a little to offset the question.

“I was just walking past,” Ryan answered, glancing down, and Brendon raised an eyebrow.

“Uh-huh,” he said skeptically.

“And I saw you in the window,” Ryan finished.

Brendon chuckled.

“So you work at a pet shop?”

“I’m in charge of the fish.” Brendon gestured to the wall and noticed how the rainbows of light landed in Ryan’s hair.

“That’s right, you like fish.” Ryan walked over to the wall and Brendon swiveled in his stool, watching. “I bet you have lots of them at home.”

Brendon sighed. “No, I wish. But my boss says I can’t buy one because if I could I’d buy the whole store. Which is probably true.”

Ryan glanced over his shoulder and smiled sympathetically. “They’re pretty.”

Brendon nodded.

“Brendon,” a voice came, the voice of the lady at the checkout counter. “Could you get me some change from the back?”

Brendon nodded again and slipped past Ryan, mumbling an “I’ll be right back.”

The back room was dark, and his eyes took their time getting used to the light as he shuffled around for the stack of ones and fives that he knew was hidden in the room, probably behind the paper cups. He found them, and wandered back into the light, shutting the door behind him.

Ryan was at the checkout counter, a single aquarium between him and the lady behind the desk. Brendon handed the change to her, and looked at Ryan.

“You’re buying a fish?” He asked curiously.

Ryan just smiled and waited until she’d finished scanning his credit card, picked up the aquarium, and walked towards the door, beckoning to Brendon with his free hand.

Brendon followed his lead, automatically. He looked up at Ryan, down at the fish, all blue and teal and shimmering light, and back at Ryan’s face, at his smile.

Ryan held the aquarium out and Brendon stared. His mouth was open and he stood there, glancing back and forth back and forth.

“It’s for you.”

Brendon carefully took the tank from Ryan’s arms, and set it on a table next to him. His arms were freed, and he threw them around Ryan’s neck, hugging him tightly. Ryan laughed quietly in his ear and squeezed him back, and Brendon thought, hey, this is a moment worth living.

Cast Icons: Buffy, Angel, Dollhouse.

2010-02-23T05:24:30Z

16 Alyson Hannigan
08 Charisma Carpenter
83 Eliza Dushku
10 James Marsters
12 Sarah Michelle Gellar
04 Amy Acker
18 Dichen Lachman

Preview:

Comment, credit, don't change, don't hotlink. ♥

Alyson Hannigan

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Icons: Music

2010-02-22T01:25:35Z

57 A Fine Frenzy
49 Arctic Monkeys
09 Christofer Drew/Never Shout Never
32 Eisley
48 Emily Haines/Metric
09 The Like
27 Regina Spektor

Preview:

Credit, comment, don't change, don't hotlink. :)

A Fine Frenzy

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Unfinished (With Fear in Your Smile) [2/?]

2010-02-21T22:25:08Z

Title: Unfinished (With Fear in Your Smile) [2]
Author: longerthanwedo
Beta: melody_so_sweet
Pairing: Brendon/Ryan for now.
Rating: PG-13
POV: 3^rd, Brendon centric.
Summary: He’s writing in blood; a feeble attempt to finish the story. The story of his life, of him and him and him. It’s a story of life, of love, of lions and fireworks and years gone by. It’s a story of blood, plenty of blood.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters. Title and inspiration from Something Corporate.
Author’s Note: This is kind of a random story. The plot I don’t think comes into play till a little later, and it’s a subtle plot. But I hope you like it anyway, and leaving me comments will give me much in the field of inspiration.

Prologue I Chapter 1

California winters have always been warm. Not hot, not cool, but warm with a breeze that blew back Brendon’s hair as he walked through the darkening air, hands in his pockets and one shoe untied. His feet set their own pace and he squinted in the night as though the sun were blinding, looming in front of him. It wasn’t.

The sun rarely showed its face in the wintertime, preferring to hide behind clouds or behind hills, and Brendon only missed it at times, like when he would step outside, feeling the warmth in the air, and wondering why he couldn’t see the source of that mid-December heat.

He could feel the sun, though. He could feel it sliding down against a hidden canvas of blue, sinking lower and lower and saluting, unseen, as it disappeared from sight. He could feel the faint heat of the orange glow, masked in gray.

Brendon could almost see the sun’s parting smile, and was tempted to wave back. He didn’t. He just kept walking, letting his mind wander as his feet beat a path into solid concrete.

Somewhere, distant, a flickering caught his eye and he was left squinting at a light instead of black sky. It was a light set apart from the lowering of the muted sun. It rose into the air, and after a moment Brendon deduced that there must have been a plume of smoke, tumbling upward and disappearing, becoming part of cloud curtain.

It was a fire, and now that he could put a definition to the light, he could smell it, faint. He walked, not knowing exactly where the fire was, but lured to it all the same.

The light grew closer and closer and bigger and he could smell the smoke, smell it filling his lungs.

He listened for sirens, but couldn’t hear any. Instead, he could make out what sounded like the low thump, thump of a bass or maybe a drum.

Brendon let his feet carry him, and before too many yards had passed, he heard voices, quiet, laughing. They swirled, mixing with smoke and tiny white flecks of ash, reaching his ears with a faint echo. He followed the echo.

It was a bonfire. It roared into the night from its home of wood slabs and kindling, and a crowd was gathered around it, all happy, smiling, throwing their heads back in the light of the flames and laughing.

Brendon didn’t know if this was a party for just anyone, but he was curious, and his curiosity made him keep walking, right until he was standing on the outskirts of the crowd. He looked around and no one seemed to see him, so he stayed, staring as though hypnotized at the fire and idly listening to the conversation around him.

He was drawn into the flames, so much so that he didn’t notice the lanky figure that emerged, parting the orange glow of light and moving towards him with a fast pace.

A hand tapped him on the shoulder and he snapped back to reality and out of some fiery dream.

Brendon blinked his eyes in adjustment to the light and looked into the shadow-cast face of the stranger in front of him. It was a boy, a man, Brendon couldn’t tell his age, but he seemed to have the kind of face that seems years younger than it is. His hair blew in wisps and curls around his face, reflecting light in a fiery halo. In the half light, Brendon’s first thought was that this stranger was kind of beautiful. He was familiar, too, in a way that Brendon couldn’t place.

“Hey,” said the man, looking first in Brendon’s eyes and then back out around the crowd.

“Hi,” Brendon replied, not knowing what else to say and not bothering to try to figure it out. He settled on his name. “I’m Brendon.”

“Yeah, I remember you,” said the stranger, his voice slightly monotone yet soft somehow.

Brendon turned his face and raised an eyebrow, scrutinizing what he could make out of the man’s face in the flickering spotlight. He squinted, and then realized. This was the man with the lion eyes.

“Ryan, right?” Brendon asked, visualizing the restaurant, the poster, the name tag.

His eyes didn’t look like lion eyes in this light, Brendon thought. In this light they danced and twirled in a way that made them seem alive, a separate entity. They flickered, kind of like fireflies in the summer when they would flutter up high, blinking in and out of existence.

Ryan nodded. “And you’re Brendon. You don’t like circuses.”

Brendon cracked a smile. “You don’t either,” he said, and Ryan gave a low chuckle. They turned away from each other and towards the warmth.

Ryan’s eyes reflected nothing but the fire, just that consistent, pure light. Brendon watched from the corner of his vision, watched the miniature flames, and marveled at the fact that he couldn’t see the clouds in Ryan’s eyes.

“So what brings you here?” Ryan asked after a moment, looking sideways at Brendon’s profile.

Brendon shrugged. “I just saw the fire. I got curious. What about you?”

“I live a couple minutes away. I could smell it from my apartment, had to check it out.”

Brendon nodded slowly and thought that Ryan’s voice was soothing, in an unconventional way. He liked it. He wanted to hear more of it.

“What do you do when you’re not wandering around town at night?” Ryan asked, a smile on his lips and a glint of orange off his teeth.

Brendon hummed in thought. “I take pictures,” he said. “And I play guitar, sometimes. And I like fish.” He said it as though reciting a memorized list of facts.

“Fish, huh?” Ryan asked, a ghostly laugh in his voice.

“Fish,” Brendon confirmed. “Do you like fish?”

Ryan contemplated. “I guess I never really thought about it. Fish are nice.” He nodded as though confirming his decision.

“Is there anything else you like?” Brendon asked, curious about the man with the firefly eyes and rough velvet voice.

“I don’t know.” Ryan frowned, like he really couldn’t remember. “I guess I like music. I like music, yeah, and books, and I’ve tried to be a musician but it hasn’t really worked out because I can’t play anything. And I’ve tried to write, but…” He trailed off, as if that memory was too painful or frustrating to relive.

Brendon nodded again, and from then on their conversation was as constant as the flames. They sat by the fire, perfectly comfortable against a backdrop of black satin and headlights.

They talked about life, family, anything that came to mind. They talked until the sparks flew into the air, flickering and dying before they got too high, until the fire was winking slowly out of existence.

When the glowing had faded into the shade of the night, Brendon closed his eyes. A sleepiness had settled over his limbs and his mind, and suddenly he didn’t want to walk the rest of the way home. He didn’t want to get up, didn’t want to leave the comfort of the warmth still hanging in the air. He didn’t want to move his muscles enough to stand.

He sighed, exhaling his distaste. Ryan heard.

“I live down the street. If you want, I have sleeping bags…if you don’t want to walk in the cold,” he offered.

It’s not cold, Brendon thought. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks,” he said instead.

Ryan stood up, and Brendon could almost hear his joints straining, slender limbs stretching and bones popping.

Brendon made a feeble attempt at movement, but groaned and flopped back onto the cooling pavement. Ryan laughed, bringing attention to the silence and the fact that almost everyone else had disappeared , and stretched out his hand.

Brendon took it, finally getting to his feet. Ryan’s hand was warm.

He let go, and they walked.

Unfinished (With Fear in Your Smile) [1/?]

2010-02-19T02:15:43Z

Title: Unfinished (With Fear in Your Smile) [1]
Author: longerthanwedo
Beta: melody_so_sweet
Pairing: Brendon/Ryan for now.
Rating: PG-13
POV: 3^rd, Brendon centric.
Summary: He’s writing in blood; a feeble attempt to finish the story. The story of his life, of him and him and him. It’s a story of life, of love, of lions and fireworks and years gone by.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters. Title and inspiration from Something Corporate.
Author’s Note: The thing about this is that I have very little plot planned out. So make guesses on the outcome, and feel free to tell me those guesses, because I’m pretty much blank.

Prologue

A poster hung on the wall, ninety degrees from the angle of his eyes. It was a brightly colored poster, the kind where the letters and images stay burned into your mind for hours after you first see it. But the electric bulbs of the candle-less chandeliers threw a glare upon the glass, right through the center, so that any meaning was obscured from his sight.

He stared at that reflection, maybe thinking that if he looked long enough, the light would somehow move, and he would finally see what he was looking at. It didn’t, though. The chandelier stayed put, and he didn’t move. He didn’t really want to read the poster anyway.

“Hello, how many are with you?”

He looked away from the wall to find he’d moved to the front of the line and ended up face to face with the Please Wait to be Seated sign, and the young man in front of it.

“Just…yeah. Just me.”

Families of four, small children included, flanked him on either side and a curious look passed across the employee’s brown eyes before he looked down at the clipboard he held in his hands.

“It should only be a few minutes. You can have a seat over there, if you like.” The man gestured to a set of maroon, faux-leather chairs in the corner of the room. “Can I get a name?”

“First or last?”

The waiter shrugged. “Either.”

“Okay. Name, Brendon.”

The tall man nodded, jotted Brendon’s name on his clipboard, and then turned to the next customer.

“Hello, how many are with you today?”

Brendon wandered to the corner, eyeing a chair with slightly narrowed eyes before settling down, crossing his legs and linking his hands. He looked up, past the frames of his glasses and through the slightly dusty lenses, and found that his eyes snapped to the exact same spot, to the exact same poster on the wall. The light had moved; the colors were bright and vibrant, but the paper was now too far away for Brendon to make out the words.

Still, he stared, having nothing better to do as he waited for his table. His eyes were fixated on the tiny, bold letters as the restaurant buzzed around him and the clock ticked, barely audible, from its place on the wall above his head.

Brendon tapped his feet. A baby girl started crying as her mother rushed past, carrying the infant in her arms. A couple with arms linked were called and made their way into the crowded dining area. Brendon’s stomach rumbled. He could smell the food, all the delicacies with aromas floating as they were transferred back and forth from the kitchen. Brendon scratched the side of his head. He wished only slightly that he had something to do, to occupy his time.

He pictured walking in here with his guitar and settling down at the chair, drowning out the noise of the crowd with a song or two, something old, maybe well-known. He imagined walking up to the sign inside the door and saying that he’d like a table for two, please, for him and his guitar.

Brendon’s eyes never left the splotchy color of the poster on the wall.

“Brendon!”

Finally he looked away, planting his feet on the floor and smoothing his pants with his hands as he made his way back to, and passed through the line. The young man at the front smiled at him, and Brendon glanced at his face and then at the poster on the wall, which he could finally see clearly.

It was a circus poster, which explained the flashy colors and swirling fonts. A smiling man, his bright red nose seeming to glow, filled the center of the page. To his right was a lion, mane and eyes fierce, but that also seemed to be smiling, long canines not so much intimidating as inviting.

Brendon had never liked circuses.

When he was a kid his grandfather had told him stories, stories about his youth, about his days in the circus. He ran away when he was only a teenager, lured in by the bright colors and intrigue of the carnival that was passing through his town. He wanted to be a part of it. He wanted to work alongside the clowns, and alongside the lions as well. He learned how to swing the trapeze and got used to sleeping on the floor, and he was happy with his life.

Brendon’s grandfather had glorified the circus, he knew. Brendon knew he’d skipped over the grizzly bits, maybe because they were kids listening to his tales, and maybe because he wanted to forget them himself. He’d said the lions were his favorites, said that their roar was the mightiest of all, and that, for all their ferocity, they really were no more than enlarged house cats, friendly to those they knew.

He had a scar on his right forearm that Brendon always suspected was a gift of these cats, though he never said so outright.

“I’ve never liked the circus,” said a thoughtful voice from behind him.

Brendon looked around, moving his eyes and not so much his head, to see that it was the waiter again. A quick glance at his nametag said his name was Ryan. Brendon turned from the poster altogether and nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, voice not loud. “Yeah, me too.”

He moved past Ryan and found his seat at a table by the window. He sat, looking at the glass but not quite past it, and thought how Ryan’s eyes were the same color as the lion’s.

Mememusic.

2010-02-19T02:09:01Z

I've seen this meme around my flist lots lately xD

Step 1: Put your music player on shuffle.
Step 2: Post the first line (unless the first line reveals the song title) from the first 25 songs that play, no matter how embarrassing. (House rule: Skip instrumentals.)
Step 3: Strike through the songs when someone guesses both artist and song title correctly.
Step 4: Looking them up on Google is cheating!

1. Good morning killer king, you're a star.
2. Ask if we can have six in, if not we'll have to have two.
3. Take what you need while there's time.
4. I want the moon and the stars, I want the whole nine yards.
5. Nothing is cooler than children who come from good homes.
6. Staring into the intersection she thinks that she can fly and she might.
7. I'll say that this is the darkest song I've ever wrote.
8. I feel good!
9. I heard a story, it's too hard to mention.
10. Under the weight of your wings, you are a god and whatever I want you to be.
11. Katie you're a brave girl.
12. Gravity plays favorites.
13. Oh wise one, if you knew the answer why'd you ask the question?
14. I am a part of your soul, boy.
15. I close my eyes, thought I was lost but I was stranded.
16. On the ground with my world upside down, I got a vision of your face.
17. I'm a killer.
18. Have you ever wondered about our old new metal friends?
19. Place your hand on mine, untie your mind.
20. Some people have it, and other people don't.
21. Just about the time the shadows call, I undress my mind and dare you to follow
22. I followed every single step listed.
23. She said you can't stay a saint that long in the city.
24. You are made of sugar, milk, and molasses.
25. You say your time has come, you're tired of waking up.

Have at it, lol. Some of these are pretty obscure xD

Unfinished (With Fear in Your Smile) [prologue]

2010-02-16T23:13:59Z

Title: Unfinished (With Fear in Your Smile) [prologue]
Author: longerthanwedo
Beta: melody_so_sweet
Pairing: Brendon/Ryan for now.
Rating: PG-13
POV: 3^rd, Brendon centric.
Summary: He’s writing in blood; a feeble attempt to finish the story. The story of his life, of him and him and him. It’s a story of life, of love, of lions and fireworks and years gone by. It’s a story of blood, plenty of blood.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters. Title and inspiration from Something Corporate.
Author’s Note: About this time last year I started writing my first chaptered fic. This one is new, different, and just barely beginning. And this prologue is very very short, but the rest will be longer. Feedback is awesome and will help me get going on this. Let’s see where it takes us.

He’s writing in blood.

He’s spilling his life onto paper already stained brown with coffee, once sweet-smelling and now soaked up by fiber and age. Coffee and blood, maybe a few tears, dried for hours now.

He’s writing in blood; a feeble attempt to finish the story. The story of his life, of him and him and him. It’s a story of life, of love, of lions and fireworks and years gone by. It’s a story of blood, plenty of blood.

He jabs his pen into the page, bright red searing through, but he finds that words are out of reach. They won’t surface in his mind, won’t come out of hiding long enough to make their way onto the page. It’s because they extend behind his blood, deeper, past muscle and into bone. And into the blood of others.

This story, it’s not just his. It’s composed from a jumble of lives, interlocking lives, and the stories of people long gone. All their minds, hearts, bones, all scattered across the world, even beyond. All this, he thinks, is why his story is unfinished.

He’s tired. All this blood, he thinks, all my blood, blood from my body that I’m sacrificing for the sake of my story. It’s making me tired. He thinks of the others, how weary they must be. They must feel the tug of his exhaustion, for they’re all a part of this.

He looks down at his paper, red splotches and scratches and smears. He puts his pen to the surface, only to find that it’s gone dry. His blood has run out.

He blinks his eyes and the red fades to black, innocent ink staring up at him. Ink, just ink, but it feels like blood. Because the words cut into him, sharp as any knife. This unfinished story burns him, piercing right through to his heart.

He sets down his pen, closes his eyes, and retreats through that hole in his chest. He pulls himself right back to the beginning of his story, and relives it.

This is.

2010-02-14T00:12:56Z

I haven't worked on my novel since November, apart from designing this cover in my graphics class.
I'm kind of stuck, in a big way. In a I-have-a-plot-but-not-scenes way. I know where the story's going, in general, but I can't seem to figure out what exactly I need to do to make all the events play out the way I want them too. Mostly, I just can't fill in the spaces in between. Important spaces, like the kind where the characters build their relationship. Which they're doing, I guess, but I seem to be having issues thinking of creative ways to do that. I need help in a major way. Would anyone be willing to talk plot with me? I'm not asking you to read 30k of unedited novel, but maybe just talk it over? I really want to work on it, I just don't know how.
Danke schon,
-Shawna

Icons: Augustana, Cartel, The Like

2010-02-13T22:16:10Z

012 Augustana
028 Cartel
100 The Like

Preview:

Credit, don't change, don't hotlink, and comments are food for my creativity. ♥

Augustana

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Cartel

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Icons:

2010-02-11T04:56:58Z

032 Alex Greenwald
028 The Cab
056 Greta Salpeter
067 Cobra Starship
031 Erin McCarley
013 Hayley Williams
014 Matt & Kim
019 Metric

Preview:

Credit, don't change, don't hotlink, and comments are lovely. ♥
These are mostly old, and not that good, haha, but I figured I'd post anyway.

Alex Greenwald

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The Cab

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Erin McCarley

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Hayley Williams

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Matt & Kim

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Metric

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218 Icons

2010-02-07T00:42:19Z

009 Alyson Hannigan
042 Amy Acker
015 Jack’s Mannequin
051 Ashley Greene
057 Emilie Autumn
013 Sarah Michelle Gellar
004 William Beckett
078 Amanda Palmer

Preview:

Comment, credit, don't change, don't hotlink, etc.

Alyson Hannigan

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Amy Acker

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Jack’s Mannequin

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Ashley Greene

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Sarah Michelle Gellar

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William Beckett

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Amanda Palmer

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Buffy Cast Icons

2010-01-30T01:48:29Z

38 Emma Caulfield
52 Michelle Trachtenberg
57 David Boreanaz
18 Nicholas Brendon

+1 Sarah Michelle Gellar drawing

Don't change, don't hotlink, credit, comment, enjoy.

Emma Caulfield

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Quick, little-sketchbook SMG drawing:

Wish I Could Wait

2010-01-18T20:48:08Z

Title: Wish I Could Wait
Author: longerthanwedo
Beta: melody_so_sweet
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
Summary: Brendon can’t get it past his head, can’t comprehend what Ryan wants. He’s afraid of death, and yet he craves it. He wants to become something that’s immortal, and yet not alive at all.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the people, and the plot inspiration comes from an episode of Buffy. Title belongs to Something Corporate.
Warnings: Character Death/Vampirism.
Author’s Note: I’ve been absent lately. Here is my return to slash in the form of a (surprise) depressing little story. Enjoy.

“Why?”

“Because it’s the only way.”

“It’s not the only way.”

“It’s the only way to stay alive.”

Brendon’s head is pounding.

“You won’t be alive. It won’t be you.”

He’s sure Ryan’s head is pounding a thousand times worse; has been for years. Probably won’t be for much longer.

“I don’t care. I’ll be alive.”

Brendon looks into Ryan’s eyes – intense, determined, wet – and tries to see past the irises, see the turmoil in his brain. He tries to imagine what it must feel like, to have your mind deteriorate like that, ridden with disease and slowly, slowly disintegrating.

Slowly, but speeding up by the day.

“How long do you have?”

“Months, weeks, I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter. It’s not going to happen like that.”

“No. You want it sooner.”

Brendon can’t get it past his head, can’t comprehend what Ryan wants. He’s afraid of death, and yet he craves it. He wants to become something that’s immortal, and yet not alive at all.

“I just want to go on.”

He doesn’t see that his mind won’t go on. Ryan doesn’t understand that the only part of him that will go on is his shell, his skin, and even that won’t be the same. It won’t be warm, worn, stretched with color. It won’t be human.

“Ry, please. It won’t be you.”

Ryan swallows, looks down and up again.

“I know.”

And Brendon doesn’t speak because, this. This is new.

Ryan continues. “I know it won’t’ be me. But isn’t it better for my body to go on? Continue how it is, the only change a few pointed teeth? I think so. I know so. I know it’s better than just going down, shriveling up, losing my hair and my mind. It’s better than being unrecognizable, just…rotting. I’d rather be possessed than disappear.”

Brendon hangs his head because Ryan’s right. In Ryan’s mind, Ryan’s right. Brendon has never been able to understand Ryan’s mind. The difference is that, before, Brendon had never stopped trying to understand it. Now he has no choice. With either decision, Ryan’s mind will be gone. Brendon knows he won’t be able to unlock the secrets of it before the time comes.

“I’m sorry,” he says. It’s all he can do.

“I wish I had a better, choice, Bren, I really do.”

“I know.”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know. It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not yours either.”

“I know. I love you.”

“So do I.”

“I know.”

And Brendon has to give up because that’s all there is to be said. There’s nothing else he can do.

“When will you go to them?”

Brendon knows it makes little difference, but he doesn’t care. He has to know.

“As soon as possible.”

Ryan shrugs. Brendon knows what he means.

“At sundown,” Brendon answers for him.

Ryan nods and Brendon’s silent. He stands there and tries to picture Ryan like that, like them. Cold and hollow and devoid of emotion, human emotion, no matter how many humans he sucks dry. Only their blood will travel through his veins, not their feelings.

He tries to picture Ryan as a monster. It’s hard to see.

But Brendon looks at Ryan and tries to picture him dead, gone, just bones, deep, deep in the ground, and it’s just as hard. And he knows Ryan, knows he finds the monster vision better, easier to comprehend. Better, but to Brendon worse than anything.

Ryan’s eyes are glassy and light reflects in them, natural, bright light and Brendon wants to keep him. Just like this, alive and breathing, alive.

Brendon falls forward and Ryan catches him, frail, and Brendon’s head on his chest.

“You have life,” Brendon says, ear pressed to Ryan’s heart. “I can hear it.”

“It’s not enough, Bren.” Ryan taps his head. “That, that’s not enough to keep this going.”

Brendon braces himself, hands on Ryan’s shoulders, presses his lips firmly to Ryan’s. He tries to push some of his life into Ryan, like maybe if he tries hard enough he can get Ryan to absorb his health, the health of his brain.

And Ryan, Ryan pushes back, like he’s resisting, like he’s forcing Brendon to hold onto the life he has, like he’s telling Brendon not to waste it on him. Brendon wants to tell him no, wants to make him lie still, wants to make him willing to be healed. He would. He would, if he thought it would help.

They break apart, breathing hard, and Brendon can see the pain in Ryan’s eyes. Pain, headache, constant, constant pain. Ryan hurts, Brendon knows, but so does he. He hurts just seeing the pain in Ryan’s eyes. He hurts knowing he can’t ever fix it.

And he hurts, hurts, hurts, when he sees the orange tint in the sky that paints Ryan’s skin.

“I have to.”

Ryan sounds like he’s convincing himself.

“You don’t.”

Brendon might as well keep fighting, keep fighting till the very end. Till dark.

“I do. Soon, soon, soon. Now. I don’t want to lose anything else, Bren, I can’t.”

And Brendon knows Ryan won’t change his mind.

“Just stay, just until the sun’s gone.”

“It’s as good as gone.”

“Ryan. Please.”

Ryan kisses him; his way of submitting. Submitting to Brendon’s wishes, submitting to temporary life.

Brendon squeezes his eyes shut, painting a picture behind his eyelids of a day long ago, of a sky full of light and a boy full of life, tight in his arms. Ryan’s soft lips move and Brendon can almost believe it.

If not for the red tinge to his vision and the shaking of Ryan’s hands, he almost could believe it.

But then Ryan’s loosening his grip and Brendon’s clutching harder, following Ryan’s retreating form, chasing his skin with desperate lips.

Brendon opens his eyes.

“I love you,” he says as Ryan backs away.

“I love you too. Forever,” Ryan promises.

But as Brendon watches his silhouette head into the dying light, he knows he has but a few minutes left to enjoy Ryan’s love. Because his love will vanish as soon as he gives himself, gives his mind over to the creature he seeks.

Brendon wishes he could promise forever.

But he knows that after this he’ll see Ryan on the street, in the shadows. He’ll see his face, the face so familiar yet so different, and won’t be able to honestly say “I love you.” He’ll see that body, those hands, that face bent over an innocent person and he won’t be able to say “Forever.”

He’ll see the monster wearing Ryan as a mask, and he’ll wish for a split second that Ryan had just let himself die. Because if he’d let himself die, Brendon could honestly say “Forever.” It would still be his Ryan under the ground, under the grass and flowers, and Brendon could kneel over his body and pledge his love, his undying love. He could bury his love underground.

But he can’t let his love chase after this Ryan. He can’t let his heart dart into alleys in the dead of night, just searching, yearning, and turning its back whenever Ryan sinks his teeth into a passerby. He has to let his heart let go.

He has to leave Ryan as he wanders into the dark, and keep himself from running after.

He has to sit back, let the tears flow from his eyes and let his heart regret.

“I’m sorry.”

And he’ll let himself hear Ryan say it back.

“I know.”

Buffy Cast Icons

2010-01-17T23:48:53Z

Buffy Cast Icons:
68 Sarah Michelle Gellar
29 James Marsters
22 Eliza Dushku
30 Charisma Carpenter
26 Alyson Hannigan
19 Amber Benson

+1 James Marsters drawing

Preview:

Comment, credit, don't change, enjoy! :)

Sarah Michelle Gellar

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And bonus:

Really super quick drawing I did of James Marsters last night. And I mean really quick. Like half an hour in my bed because I was bored xD

Expect lots more icons of the musical variety soon. ♥

Ba ba ba ba ba shadoobeedoobee!

2009-12-21T23:02:29Z

Hello friends, I've been meaning to update for a loooooooong time, and I'm finally getting around to it, so hopefully I'll remember all the stuff I wanted to say. First of all, Christmas Break is here! Whoot!

Actually, there have been a lot of posts I've been meaning to do. I don't think I ever even did a Halloween post O_O In which case, this was my Princess Anhura costume (or, well, makeup, since I didn't have time to get a picture of the dress):

Alright. First things first: Concerts. There's this local band called Haifa, and they are absolutely amazing. Totally not like anything I've ever heard before, but just so, so so so good. They dress like The Hush Sound, and the girl who sings even looks like Greta. We (me and dare_to_disco) saw them on Halloween, and talked to them afterwards, and they said that was probably their one and only show. But then Zach told us they were playing again, and like a week or so ago we saw them play for longer, and it was so awesome. But they said (again) that that would be their last show. But they'll "always be around, just...look up into the stars, or something!". Lol. That was an awesome night. And there were lederhosen. Then last night we went to see another (awesome) local band called Ben and Carlton. We've been with them since their first show at Battle of the Bands, and they now recognize us as "their biggest fans" and my mom as "our biggest fans' mom". Even though she's not actually Jade's mom, lol. But, yeah, they're so much fun live. And we had a group hug. And I gave them mix CDs. And Carlton is going to see Jack's Mannequin in Feb. And I'm jealous. And you should all GO BUY their album "Compliment Sandwich" on iTunes. I promise you won't regret it. It's like 20 songs for just 9.99! Whoot! In other randomish news: I finally have a copy of my picture with Pete Wentz from when we went bowling together:

If you're confused, look back a few entries on my journal to where I talk about him XD Ohh, speaking of look-alikes... at the Haifa concert, there was this guy who looked EXACTLY like Spencer Smith. Like, if I was in California and I saw him walking down the street I would follow him home. That's how much he looked like Spencer. O_O I'm almost positive there was more I was going to talk about. Ah well. I'll leave you with

Zach's sad face. (From Jade's birthday party, during which there was lots and lots of boykissing.)

and

Some random trees.

<3

-Shawna

....O_O

2009-12-04T21:20:51Z

I feel like these need to be posted. Click for...bigger. Oh dear god XD

Golden Days (Forever is Fine)

2009-12-01T05:03:55Z

Title: Golden Days (Forever is Fine)
Author: longerthanwedo
Beta: dare_to_disco
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
Summary: “Love you till I die.” Those were the words. Scrawled onto palms, scratched onto bedside tables, burned into memories. They were whispered, whispered with meaning. With meaning, they were screamed at the sky.
Warning: Character death, suicide, depressingness.
Disclaimer: So, so, so very not real.
Author’s Notes: This took me approximately half an hour. But it’s something from me, at least, while I’m caught up in this novel business ;)

“Love you till I die.”

Those were the words. Scrawled onto palms, scratched onto bedside tables, burned into memories. They were whispered, whispered with meaning. With meaning, they were screamed at the sky. The ceiling, if the sky was out of reach. They were the truth, the one truth, the basis of Brendon’s knowledge, his vast knowledge of love and of pain.

Golden eyes. They were the reason those words were spoken. They were the inspiration for poems, for songs, for kisses, for tears. Those golden eyes, they were always close beside him when he felt doubt creeping up, confidence trembling. They were in front of his own when those words were first spoken.

“Love you till I die.”

“Always.”

It was a given. There was nothing after a promise like that. Words like always, like forever; they were said with ease. Always, it was a piece of basic logic. Forever, it was a promise that was sure to be kept. Till I die, there was no forever to be had beyond that. Not after that love. Not after those golden eyes.

There was a smile. A smile that was seen and then mimicked, stretching his face. It was the reason, tucked beneath those eyes, for the whispered vows, for the soft return of lips to skin. When he saw that smile, that’s when he knew those words were meant for him as well.

“Love you till I die.”

Those words were only let past one pair of lips. The other boy, his lips wouldn’t part. Maybe it wasn’t his lips, but his sense that forbade the promise to escape. Ryan, he’d always had more sense. It was something to be envied, something to be feared. With sense came stability, but with stability came limits; unforeseen boundaries that Brendon could push against but that wouldn’t budge. It was something that wouldn’t allow things like forevers.

Sense and regret. Two things, two things that maybe sawed through Brendon’s “always”. Things that maybe plowed through golden eyes and golden smiles and golden plated promises. It was when the golden eyes lost their gleam, when the smiles tensed and when regret was a color that shone through the etchings in the wood.

“Love you till I die.”

It was fading sharpie on the backs of clasped hands and sleeping collarbones. They were words filled with meaning. They were words repeated over and over and over again, under Brendon’s covers, while the other side lay cold. It was a promise, not to Ryan’s eyes. Not anymore. It was a promise Brendon made to himself. A promise to keep his promise. Even as he felt forever was ending.

Ryan’s sense, it was a sensible thing. Sense, like boundaries, were absent in Brendon’s mind, and regret. Regret was abundant. Regret that he didn’t have the sense, the sense to put up boundaries, to shut words in. Words that were so heavy, so heavy.

“Love you till I die.”

There was no always that followed it. Not anymore, not for a long time. Returns of promises had been swallowed up, sucked back into cold golden eyes. Drawn away along with smiles and empty, empty, empty hands. Brendon didn’t expect an always. He didn’t feel one himself.

Open doors. That was the reality he was faced with. Behind him, behind him he couldn’t find his forever. In front of him, in a dark night and empty street, that was his only chance. He knew there was no forever there. Nothing after a promise like that. Brendon, he had no sense. But he had sense enough to know, you can’t go back on a promise like that.

“Love you till I die.”

Love. It was something fast fading, something that he clung to when he passed Ryan in the hall. It was something slipping, slipping, tumbling through the cracks in his heart. And Brendon, he couldn’t go back on a promise like that, on a promise like Ryan. He couldn’t have sense, but he could have honesty.

Closed doors. He faced them, faced regret one last time and then all he faced was empty sky. Roads, roads, roads and a railing. One last boundary, but something easily passed. Brendon faced no resistance as he sidestepped the metal. No resistance. Luckily, because resistance only came with sense.

“Love you till I die.”

Whispered words, whispered to the sky. Where he thought he saw golden eyes. He let the last of his love slip off the edge, down, down, down, down. Into the darkness. It was the always, the forever. He waited, waited for them to hit the bottom, then followed his words.

“Love you till I die.”

I can has opinions please?

2009-11-20T06:46:58Z

Hey guys,

I've been talking to people on the NaNoWriMo site and the overwhelming opinion seems to be that books in present tense appeal less to the reader. I can see how it would be awkward in some situations writing - as with action and stuff like that, but my book isn't going to be big on the action front at all. And when I write in present tense and read over it it doesn't sound awkward to me, but maybe that's just because it's my writing. So I thought I'd post a snippet here and see what you think. Would you read an entire book written in the present tense? Is it worth it to change now that I'm almost halfway through?

Short piece from Robbie's point of view:

Robbie taps his dry paint brush on his knee and hums quietly to himself as he watches people trickle out of their homes. Some seem familiar, some don’t, but he can’t be too sure anymore. He’s been here too long to tell the difference between faces that never look his way. He sighs, looking at his lap, his paints, his empty page and wonders what he’ll come up with today. He thinks maybe, maybe another misty morning scene full of silhouettes that are blurred against the background because he can’t distinguish them in real life, let alone on paper.
He shakes his head, blinking tiredly and raises the hand with the brush to rub at the back of his eyelids. Summer heat keeps him up at night. Heat and the faces that stare down at him from the walls. Faces of his own creation that he can’t stop thinking about simply because they’re there. They’re there, in his shabby apartment, and he can’t remember the last time he sold something worth more than ten dollars. He can’t remember the last time he sold anything at all.
At night Robbie will pull the blankets up to his chin and dwell upon the fact that the paintings he doesn’t sell are almost all he’s living on right now. He hasn’t had a job in months, and he knows better than anyone that nothing is ever, ever guaranteed.

And a (shorter) bit from Victoria's POV:

Victoria lays sprawled out on her bed, holding her hands up against the white ceiling and inspecting her fingers and the way their shadows fall across her sheets and clothes. She smiles to herself, admittedly a little dreamy, and lowers a hand to cover her face from the camera, only slightly thinking that whoever waits upstairs watching her might be able to see her thoughts and see her secret only by seeing her smile. Her grin doesn’t disappear, though, just sits pressed against her palm and she closes her eyes, shutting out the yellow light from the windows and the bedside lamp.

Thoughts, anyone?
I really don't want to change it. To me it sounds fine, but again that could just be because I'm the author...
Thanks :)
-Shawna

P.S. I'M GONNA BE IN CASH'S BOOK, GUYS! WHOOOOOOOT!!! :D

Of Familiar Faces. I need help.

2009-11-16T04:43:56Z

Hey there.
So I think most of you know that I'm doing National Novel Writing Month. Well, even though I'm extremely behind, I've been messing around in Photoshop and making covers. I can't decide which cover to use, however, which is where I need your help. I have like seven that I didn't spend much time on, but if you pick your favorite I might work on it more and make it better :)

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