ParaRAWR! (a.k.a Paramore)

yelyahwilliams:

WOW! Thank you guys. 

and thank you B.o.B. <3

Me:

LUV THIS SONG! <3 should be #1. :P

IT CAME OUT! genius. ultimate combo of all times.

letz give it up to B.o.B and Ms. H. Williams people!!

yelyahwilliams:

SHWING! 

Spring/Summer 2010 line for Marc by Marc Jacobs is killing me! While we’re at it, the Fall/Winter line is incredible too.

Me:

Ish awesome!

~Teenagers, by Hayley Williams

Music Quote of DA Week.

It just doesn’t get better.

Life just can’t get more hilarious.

Bring it Bieber.

Hey ya’ll, since this is my ‘world’ of music, I guess I betta hit the records.

So, in today’s Top 10 Singles (iTunes) chart… We have…

In 1) Hey Soul Sister by Train : Pretty hardcore I have to say. Lyrics hit home, and Patrick’s voice is… like a breeze that just hits you in the face again and again. Fresh and new, soft, lovely, caressing, similar to a light blankey. :)

In 2) by B.o.B ft. Bruno Mars… Nothin’ On You. Beautiful. Literally. Kinda shocked after aI found about the whole song. The amazing soft voice at the beginning? That wasn’t B.o.B. That was Bruno Mars!!!!!!! :O I still love the song, no kidding. But I have to say… I almost thought Bruno outshone B.o.B. Or maybe its my kinda kooky brain… xP No worries though. Still love ya B.o.B! (not that you would really care ; no one reads this o.o)

Now we have 3), *drumroll*…. Break Your Heart by Taio Cruz and Ludacris!! Ouch. Literally. “I’m only gonna break, break, break, break your heart.” Don’t get me wrong, catchy fabulous song but hello?! A little on the depressing side?! Am I the only one who thinks this??!! But then again… it is realistic. I mean, you don’t see many ‘happily ever after’ couples anymore. Brutal, yet matter-of-fact at the same time. Kudos to you two.

At number 4) is (SIGH :P) Baby, by Justin Bieber ft. Ludacris. Ludacris, you are the man of the week! I am loving your collaborations!!! :) Anyways, blah blah blah, wonderful catchy song, blah blah blah~ cutting to the real deal. I have to say, its the classic pop thing, catchy, lyrical, tiny bit of cheesiness, and the love basis. Only, he sounds like a girl. Don’t get me wrong, it isn’t a bad voice. But it just doesn’t seem right for a guy…. but now I’m getting bored. Clap clap, go Luda, and Bieber, (is it By-ber, Bee-ber, Beaver, or etc?!!) continue the walk down the red carpet. (ugh. xP)

***Note: Can I just say, this is a bit ridiculous? All of the above songs are a) About love b) Pop. WHAT HAPPENED TO VARIETY AND INNOVATION PEOPLE?!!

And in 5), with still the same Pop genre, and the loveISH theme, but still our caribbean wonder, Rihanna with Rude Boy! I have to say, I absolutely think this song is ammmaaazzinnngg. It has the qualities : a) catchy b) good lyrics c) its by rihanna d) great song itself e) and so on. Do I need to say anything more?

Numba 6)…. Sigh. Okay, its not like its a bad song, but can I just say its like all the rest of my reviews? Ugh. This is hard. Its catchy, classic lovey dovey sexy song, perfect lyrics, yup yup yup. Great job. :P

7) OMG AAAAHHHHH *pulling hair out*. Pop. Love. Catchiness. 

I CAN’T TAKE IT PEOPLE! :O :O :O :O.

okay. calmed down now. Can’t say anything bout this though. Sorry Jason. Apoligies.

8) Yay! Yes, it’s pop, yes it’s love, but hello people this is the song we’ve been waiting for! Telephone by Lady Gaga and Beyonce! Awesomeness. The two divas clicked and the song is great. Honeybee and Gaga. Perfect match. Nothing else to say. Not much to say anyways. Oh, wait. One more thing.

‘Let’s make a Sandwich!’ xD

Almost done….. ahh….. Number 9). YES! OMG! A change! The BEP is back, (well they’ve been back for a while) with a fave of mine. Imma Be! ““Imma Be Imma be imma imma imma be” A new genre AND topic! Bam that is awesome! Catchy, a good beat, nice lyrics, go BEP!

Finally. Ugh, back we are. Number 10), Need you Now by Lady Antebellum. Love. Pop. Sigh…. Its great. Meaningful. Still, even though it may seem just because I’m lazy or tired, it’s not as good as Hey Soul Sister. Not the hardcoreness of the blankey. It’s still good. Catchy. Slow. Hits the heart. <3

Okay. Had enough typing for the day. I hope this sux a little less. (I wonder if anyone actually reads this; o.o” ) Have fun reading. :3 Hope its good. 

Life is good. So go enjoy people! If your reading this, you shouldn’t! Go get your but of the computer and… go outside! Breath in. Breath out. ….. :P GO DO SOMETHING! :)

have officially fallen in love with glee. 

Cont. of Realization.

“The Only Exception!!!!”

my blog sux. xP

Enjoy!

Model Murder: Chapter One Cont.: By PandaGrrl

{Baskin-Robbins Ice Cream Parlor, 2:05 p.m.}

Anastasia sat down at the parlor, almost appearing to sulk in the corner. There was meagre staff of three: one cashier, an old man, perhaps in his fifties. One waitress and waiter, both in their teens, wannabes of the fashion world. The waiter and cashier, both on a smoke break, wasn’t there and so the waitress had to go and serve her. The arrogant girl strode over to Anastasia, a conceited air around her. Gothic little girl with that outfit. I (heart) Flyleaf graphic tee, a black mini skirt and knee-high lace up Dr. Martens. Sigh. What an… Aspirant, the waitress thought. “And what would darling Sweetie Pie want?” she drawled, obviously mocking her. “Sweetie Pie wants to kick your ass right now.” Anastasia shot back. She was rebel, through and through. However small she might be. The waitress shrunk back at the sudden punch of her remark. “What would you like?” she asked smoothly, pretending to not have heard. “Rainbow Sherbet please.” Anastasia calmly responded. “With a spoonful of crunch.” she added in. The waitress took this all down, before shuffling off, having lost her sense of pride. “Waitress!” Anastasia suddenly shouted out. The girl turned around. “What?” she asked. “Goodbye.” she simply replied. As if Anastasia was oracular, out of no where a kaiken, a short yet deadly japanese dagger, flew in a straight path, piercing the waitress wannabe right in the small of her back. It was, of course, fatal. The girl falls to the ground on her back, and the collision with the floor has enough momentum and pressure that the kaiken shoots straight through her, and so you can see the shiny tip of it sticking out of her torso, glistening with wet blood. Anastasia stood there calmly in the sudden rush of panic, as if nothing had happened, before too, collapsing the ground. A small glittering point sticks out of her throat, and if you look closely, you can see the exact vein in her neck where the knife pierced, and the ebony black lacquer handle sticking out the back. It was a gory scene for the public. It was a glorious scene for the killer.

{Baskin-Robbins Ice Cream Parlor, Murder Scene, 3:45 p.m.}

Officer Dylan walked through the mess of blood, tangled crowds of people, his crew members following behind. In his mind, he was aghast. In the parlor, he was calm and cool. “Marty.” he called. Police Photographer Martany, or Marty, stepped forward. “Yes Dylan?” he asked. “Prepare the camera for shooting.” Dylan replied. “Right away.” Marty said. Officer Dylan, crept slowly towards the scene. He didn’t want to see what happened this time. A parachute covered the mess of bodies and blood, the murder’s signature gloves printed on the top. He was tempted to run out the doors, and only stop when he reached the border of the country. Instead, he shuddered, and began. With a slapping sound he snapped on the white surgical gloves, and lifted the cloth off, folding it neatly and handing it to Hox and Gatty to take back and scan for prints. He gave an exclamation at the sight. Usually, the killer created the scene in some ghastly, but yet strangely beautiful way. This was that. To the extreme. The two bodies, identified as an employee named Claire, and a neighbor, were on the ground. Having been moved, they each lay close together, their bodies like a soldier frozen, but lying on the floor. Each arm was crossed on their bodies, their hands making ‘Xs’. And in each hand… was a gun. But these were not ordinary guns. These were loaded assassin rifles, made to kill, quick and fast. And they were painted PINK. With an evil twisted version of Hello Kitty on them. And they were real. Loaded. Expensive. And girly. His mouth gaped, and he sat there for a moment. The crowd outside clambered at the locked doors, wanting to know what it was this time. Officer Dylan, hearing the voices of his crew, quickly snapped out of it, and examined the rest of the bodies. A noticeable hole started from the small of Claire’s back, and an identical one in the front of her torso. The shorter one, the neighbor, had a similar piercing, only in the exact center vein of her neck. Continuing his examination, he looked upon their faces. And, likewise for the bodies, gaped. The murderer had outdone itself. Two scoops of Rainbow Sherbet ice-cream replaced the neighbor’s eyes, and coffee for Claire. A notebook, what looked like Claire’s notepad for orders, had her lazy scrawl of the last order. ‘Rainbow Sherbet.’ The murderer payed close attention. Almost as if it really cared how they ended up. Finishing off the face was the words, ‘Gloves’, signed on either cheek of the targets, and, as Officer Dylan realized, sampling the substance with his finger, written in blood. And so the monstrous scene was portrayed, the master piece of the murderer, living by the name, Gloves. And so this chapter ends, as the murders get more and more fantastic. As Narcissa quoted, “Who Will It Strike Next?”

mewithoutYou (via yelyahwilliams)

(via yelyahwilliams)

PandaGrrl:

CUUTE

Have decided to attempt to post while writing out of imagination a book. Hope people out there are actually reading this!

Model Murderer: Chapter 1: By PandaGrrl

Her delicate tongue wiped a small trace of the make-up off her lips. She slipped on the gloves. Tight gloves, striped black and grey. And began.

{At Narcissa’s Penthouse; 8:00 am.}

Narcissa dreaded mornings. The daily boring routine, the wake-up, everything. She HATED them. Picking up the daily, free Times newspaper, she scanned the front for meaty news. Nothing caught her eye until she turned to the last page. Another Found Mysteriously Dead. It was the third death that week. Deciding this was worth the time, she traveled with it in hand to the kitchen, turning on the coffee machine. A few minutes later, the rewarding “Bing!” went off and she took the coffee pot gingerly off the hot pad and let it cool on the table. Meanwhile, she popped some toast in the toaster and poured the coffee into the mug. Another Bing! and the bread was done. She buttered it heavily on a plate, ready to eat. Finally, she picked up the newspaper, and sipping her caffiene filled coffee, read the article carefully.

{At The Yellow House; 8:10 am.}

At the cosy sunflower-yellow house just down the street, a petite figure did the same thing. You could see her brow furrow in concentration, and her hands clench the grey paper. For a second, there was a flicker of a smile across her face, only to be quickly removed by a slight frown. Nobody noticed the small girl in her sunflower house. Nobody. She was just another girl in a house down the street.

{At The ********** ****** TOP-SECRET Meetinghouse; 10:00 am.}

A familiar buzz echoed through-out the room. Young stylish wannabes smoked outside, while the aged wise ones tittered at them, and the middle-aged understanding ones chattered amongst themselves. At the signal, the room quieted down, the middle-aged ones silent, the aged wise ones sitting, and the wannabes escorted to the streets while they tossed stubs of cigarettes into the path of zooming cars. “Again.” the voice boomed. “This is the third time. People, what is going on?” It added. Quiet prattle resumed. “PEOPLE!” the voice yelled, almost seeming to vibrate the room. They fell silent. A hand raised out of the crowd. “Yes Crowley?” the voice asked. “Perhaps… We aren’t looking in the right direction.” Crowley spoke calmly, yet loudly. The crowd sucked in. No one would even DARE say that. To even indirectly insult The Yaci was unforgivable! They waited for his reply. “Really? Then where do we look?” the voice, or The Yaci responded. He seemed amused, and the audience let out a sigh of relief. Execution had risen in popularity these days. “Perhaps we need to go back to square one. Re-analyze the suspects.” Crowley cooly responded. “I will take your thoughts in to consideration.” The Yaci replied. Always hidden, people never knew who the Yaci was, what he looked like, or what he did. They just obeyed his orders. “You are all dismissed.” he boomed again, and the crowd quickly and silently dispersed. These meetings were secret, private, and no information inside would ever be let out. If any was… there were extreme penalties.

{At Max House’s Mansion Catwalk; precisely 12:01 pm.}

It was lunch break. Of course it was never CALLED lunch break, because of course, no one ate then. And if they did it was all out in the toilets then. Narcissa stripped off the tight corset dress, changing into looser, less fancy, more comfortable clothes. She slipped on some designer flats, and headed into the lounge. Her head was still filled with thoughts about the article. She could see it in her head, line by line, the bold headline standing out… “Another Found Mysteriously Dead” by Minaka Collins Picture this. A grey cement alleyway, littered with graffiti on either side. As you gaze down, it looks like any regular alley. Except it isn’t. If you walk inside, just a little bit, about 3 meters, you see a slightly smudged light pink line. Weirdly, it looks like the latest lipstick, ‘Sweetz’, the one just released by JuicyLips. If you follow that trail, which lasts for about a meter, you’ll see it wind up and up an old black ladder that connects to an emergency staircase to an old wrecked building. Letting your eyes trace this line, you will come upon it. A grotesque scene. There’s a shockingly, disgustingly contorted DEAD body, but the worst thing about it.. is that in a twisted sense, it’s… beautiful. At least it used to be. Diving into the details now. A girl, currently her name has not been released, perhaps in her late thirties, is splayed on the red brick covered in creepers, her hands to either side, and her legs bent and twisted. As if a fan was blowing, her hair is blown in various directions, sticking to the wall. Her face, the lips in a comical frown, with stage-like eyeshadow, and red blushed cheeks. Lights illuminate the body, creating a freakish look. As if it was a photo-shoot, a camera and the lights make the combined effect. And if you are really brave, you would climb that rickety paint-peeling ladder, and see that on that camera, the latest Canon release, there are five pictures. In the following order: 1) Showing the dead body before the transformation; a stiletto dagger* has nicked a vital vein in the neck. 2) The transformation is complete; you see what is in front of your, only the fresh freaky result. 3) A picture of a white heart, bleeding black drops of toxic. 4) The stiletto used for the murder. 5) A pair of stylish gray and black stripy gloves.** The latest goth accessory. All this contributes to the latest crime of the weak, and the police speculate the third crime by our killer, as we call ‘it’, “The Gloved One.” Who will it strike next? * The stiletto has not been found ** These are supposedly the killer’s signature gloves; at the previous two crime scenes, a picture/sign/symbol of them are somewhere. The first was a giant graffiti sprayed signed, the second a firework was fired seconds after the body was discovered, leaving a trace of smoke outlining a pair of identical gloves. Narcissa shuddered at the very thought. After reading that article, she pondered it for half an hour. She wondered if the government had figured it out yet. At least she had. Narcissa had recognized every single one of the girls. The first, Nancy Trueman, an aspiring amateur model. The second, a yet-undiscovered model, by the name of Harli Mac, was a very distant cousin of hers. Finally, the most recent, was the one who was catapulted into Fame, only to be rejected by it. Yetma Lee. She barely recognized her though. When Lee was rejected she went into a state of depression, and became sallow-skinned and bony, with hollow cheeks. Now she looked like she had a head-to-toe plastic surgery remake! No wonder no one realized it was her. Taking a sip of bottled water Narcissa sighed. She was wondering, just as the journalist wrote, Who will it strike next?