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Post by Owen Collins on Dec 22, 2009 16:46:25 GMT -5
 WE'LL HIT SOUTH BROADWAY IN A MATTER OF MINUTES & LIKE A BAD MOVIE I'LL [/font][/size]
DROP A LINE FALL IN THE GRAVE I'VE BEEN DIGGING MYSELF BUT THERE'S ROOM FOR TWO[/size] SIX FEET UNDER THE STARS [/center]
Owen had a goal. For going to the roller skating rink, at least. He actually had quite a few goals – most just happened to be rather…impractical. The most long-term of those was quite Yossarian-esque, or, rather, he had adopted it after reading Catch-22 a year or two back. After all, who wouldn’t want to live forever or die trying? He was being fairly successful with that so far, considering he was still alive. No small feat, either, with the nearly homicidal guitarist he had to live with. Anyway. His current goal, however, was different. See, he had gone through the past couple of years on the island pretty much doing nothing aside from annoying the hell out of people and hiking up to the cliffs, or going for the occasional swim. Needless to say, he wasn’t terribly athletic. He never had been. He was lazy and just plain uninterested in most athletic diversions. That was it. And his lack of physical strength or skill had never been a problem so far, so why would it ever be?
He had discovered the answer to this query last week at the skate park. He had been invited there by a group of friends, and his only thought on the matter when he remembered he’d never been able to skate was, “Oh well. I’m amazing. I can learn to skate in five minutes. Anyone can skate.” …That’s an exaggeration, but it went something along the lines of that. …Yeah. It should go without saying that he was wrong. He proved to be a failure at learning to skate in five minutes, instead falling at least five times in the first three minutes. It wasn’t a happy experience. It didn’t help that there were a ton of teenaged kids whose sole purpose for skating then had been to impress the other teenaged girls. In order to do this, it seemed skating better than a twenty-year-old wasn’t enough. No. They had taken it into their hands to embarrass the hell out of Owen. They hardly seemed to know what tact was, and would skate within two feet of him on their fucking fancy skateboards or skates and try to make Owen fall. On his face. They succeeded. Multiple times. Owen did not appreciate this. He left the skate park in under an hour, and vowed that he was much too good for such a juvenile sport.
And that’s why he was parking beside Poodle Skirts and Roller Skates. He was determined to prove that he could skate. Not to prove to those brats at the park, of course. He just wanted to learn to skate. Denial, much? Psh. Denial could go screw itself, for all Owen cared. Denial was a myth. He slid out of his car and locked the door behind him, slipping on the thin, black-framed glasses he typically wore on occasions where decent sight and depth-perception might be necessary. It was a bonus that they made him a bit less recognizable. Not that he was recognizable normally by fans or paparazzi, but it was good to be safe. …Fuck. If either of the Josies or Ryan found out about this pathetic escapade, he might have to break his afore-mentioned catch-22 of a goal. It was embarrassing enough he’d never bothered to learn to skate, and it was only worse that he was horrible at it when he did try. Tugging his grey jacket more tightly around him, as if a sort of shield from the shame of going into a roller-skating rink normally populated by middle to high school-aged teenagers, he strode towards the entrance, glancing around in an effort to make his eyes adjust more quickly to the new improvement of his sight. Of course he wasn’t trying to make sure he didn’t know any of the cars around the lot. No. Of course not. That was absurd.
He had to blink a few times at the dimmed lights when he did open the door. What was this? Why did they turn the lights down? How the hell were you supposed to concentrate and look at the floor and not die when it was so dark? …God. He bet it was all a conspiracy, solely against him. Forget how little sense that made. And the strobe lights were so distracting. Pshh, he wasn’t panicking at all. He was just…being safety-conscious, dammit. He was getting a headache, he rationalized. Maybe he should just leave now…and come back sometime when he didn’t have a headache. Instead, though, he approached the counter – possibly against his better judgment. After pausing, unsure of what to do, he finally mumbled an approximate shoe size and handed over a few dollars in response to the girl at the counter, who, he noticed, was a year or so younger than him, and could probably skate five times as well. …The world was unfair. He then managed to find a chair and spent a good give minutes lacing the skates. And then he stood up, which took almost as long as tying the shoes. But, luckily, since he hadn’t bought inline-skates, and had decided on plain roller skates instead, he was able to remain standing with little trouble. As long as he didn’t move in the least, of course. He felt amazing. He was a freaking prodigy. So he started towards the actual rink.
And then he tripped over the carpet.
[/b][/color] NOTES[/font][/size][/size] nope ! \TAGGED anyone ! /WORDS 886 ! \LOCATION poodle skirts & roller skates ! /LYRICS all time low ! \CREDIT leena at caution ! [/ul] |
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Post by Josiah Raleigh Hills on Dec 22, 2009 17:41:14 GMT -5
despite this it seems that the powers be, have decided who i am and who i'll be.WHO I AM, WHO I'LL BE , HAS BEEN DECIDED FOR ME . - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/font] tagged for anybody with 960 words. template by kleptomania ftw?! of caution.[/center] Josiah shook his head. He couldn't believe this mess; blood was running down the right side of his face and the security guards were out to get him. One minute he was enjoying himself just trying to put skates on and the next he was going to be the most talked about bassist in the whole world but sadly, not in a good way. Stupid punk shouldn't have touched him if he didn't want his nose broken and many other things, that's all there was to it. Sure, Josiah could have been nice and not broken the kid, waved the kid off with a bright smile and told him it was fine but that just wasn't how Josiah functioned. No, Momma taught him that when somebody punches you, punch back girl or boy. May not have been the best thing that a cop could teach their sun, but it sure was something he took to heart. He wasn't going to let some sixteen year old skateboarding freak tell him what to do. What happened? Simple;
Josiah had gotten out of his car. He was sitting down, putting his skates on when all of a sudden, seemingly out of nowhere, this kid came by and decided he was gonna be cool and slammed his knee right into Josiah's face. Now, Josiah's face happened to be right in front of his car's door, right on the corner, so naturally, the punk's knee hit Josiah's face, Josiah's head hit the door, the door flew open more, Josiah grunted in pain with his eyes wide, the door came back and hit the same spot due to rebound at the door's opening limit. It was a ball, but more importantly, he wasn't going to let it slide. No, he was going to kill himself a punk. And if not the punk, that knee sure wasn't going to be bashing into anything anytime soon.
Yeah, Josiah and all his forgiving matter went to the kid, talked to him about it and they made up and became best friends for life. No, Josiah walked up to the kid with blood running down the side of his face, bare feet due to the fact that he didn't get to put his skates on before his head was smashed into a door and hands balled into a fist shape.
"Hey punk." he told the kid in front of him with a growl. "You got some kind of death wish?"
The kid had looked at Josiah with a confusing glare. "What the 'heck' do you want?...Death wish? Dude, 'screw' off."
And that was it, Josiah was done. The kid had just fanned the flame of his anger fuse and POOF, no more fuse; not that it was a very long one to begin with.
Not long after that little charade the security guards came and had to pry Josiah off of the kid and there Josiah was, standing with inline-skates on his feet and a glare playing his face. The rest of his outfit was kind of ruined due to the blood on the right side of his face, but he would manage with it. His lime green shirt with big bold letters saying, 'MOMMA DIDN'T RAISE NO FOOL' was now ruined with blood stains. It'd make a cool concert shirt now but like he wanted it to be a concert shirt. He happened to be wearing a pair of plain black pants with holes in the knees and white fray's. His lets were pretty chilly due to the fact that all the other holes about the pants were what he liked to call, 'the windows of his pants' so his legs were cold because his pants left the windows open. A strange way to put it, but a way Josiah saw fit.
He sighed and then started to skate around the rink a bit. Who was he kidding? He jumped a bit spinning his body slightly and land back on the ground moving his body back and forth in a sort of wave motion to make sure he would still go forward. He was now skating the same way only backwards, and he was very frustrated about that kid. Even if the kid had left because he was in pain due to Josiah's hounding on him with his fists, he still wasn't satisfied that the kid didn't apologize... Though, with a newly misplaced jaw who could apologize? Maybe the fear in his eyes as Josiah beat him in the face was enough...
He sighed and turned back around in time to see somebody with black hair and a pair of normal four-wheeled skates fall flat on his face. "What the heck?" he asked as he stopped moving and just rolled towards the rink's entrance. He stopped by sliding to the side making a screeching noise and looked closer at the face. His eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed a bit at the concentration. The back of that head looked way to familiar to him. He tilted his head like a puppy at the face, realized he still couldn't see the face though that hair and rolled his eyes. 'Emo kids and their long hair... you can't see crap.' He thought as he bent down on all fours, put his face to the carpet and looked at the face straight on. Though, the hair was still in the way so he blew it out of the way of his eyes.
His eyes grew in triumph, tada! Out of the hair popped.... "An Owen face?" Curse his talking to himself habit.
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Post by Owen Collins on Dec 22, 2009 19:37:19 GMT -5
WE'LL HIT SOUTH BROADWAY IN A MATTER OF MINUTES & LIKE A BAD MOVIE I'LL [/font][/size]
DROP A LINE FALL IN THE GRAVE I'VE BEEN DIGGING MYSELF BUT THERE'S ROOM FOR TWO[/size] SIX FEET UNDER THE STARS[/center]
Plainly put, Owen was stubborn. He hated giving up, especially when it would please someone for him to do so. That could be interpreted differently – Josie had always said he was immature. Maybe she was right. Well, she probably was. Josie tended to be right a lot more than he liked to acknowledge. He tended to be competitive, too. Those two traits mixed together were a majority of the reason he had decided to come, after all. The punks at the skate park had annoyed him, and even though he preferred to avoid things he had no talent at, it was kind of…irritating, he supposed. Honestly, what was their problem? He didn’t think that even he had done pointlessly obnoxious things like that when he was a kid, and that was saying quite a bit, considering how obnoxious he could be now when he wanted to. …But, he was also a coward. He should have gone to the skate park and started with in-lines from there, but no. He had, instead, gone to the roller skating rink where it was probably a good deal safer, and was starting with what were pretty much baby skates. Then again, it’s not like he usually did anything differently than this. If anything, he did things like this quite often. He would find something he was terrible at, get annoyed with himself, and, after pretty much brooding over it for anywhere from an hour to a week, go off and try to become decent at whatever it was. Not that he ever…really succeeded. Typically, he ran away after his goal got a little bit more difficult than he wanted it to, or when it became more embarrassing to learn than to be ignorant. It wasn’t a good habit, he knew, but it was probably too late to change it. …Or, it would take too much effort to change it himself. That was a lot closer to the truth.
After his skates snagged on the carpet – he wasn’t sure how to describe that – Owen was given a humiliating second to realize that, yes, he was, in fact, falling. About fifteen different thoughts ran through his head at that moment, though the dominating one was, “Wow, what a prodigy.” And, honestly? Falling kind of sucks when you’re almost six feet tall. You know, potential energy and all that? Yeah. Nature’s kind of against you there. It’s a lot less graceful to fall than when a person is, say, five feet. Seeing as he had never learned one of the most important lessons of skating – that is, how to fall – he did nothing to avoid the seemingly unavoidable outcome of falling on his face except spending the half a second he was in the air waving his arms about as if he were trying to fly. So he fell on his face.
Not having lost consciousness like he thought he might – that may have been an easier situation for him to handle, though – he spent a few moments inventorying the damage the floor must have done to him. Luckily, his glasses didn’t seem to be broken – what had he been thinking, wearing glasses into a skating rink? – though the headache he had created out of anxiety earlier seemed to have come back. Unfortunately, it seemed to be real this time. Well, dammit. It crossed his mind for a second that he looked kind of odd lying on the floor, probably only a foot or two away from the rink, and that he should get up. But then dealing with strange or amused glances would be necessary, and that…was kind of out of the question right now. Maybe if nothing else he could just…lie on the floor for a few more minutes. Yeah. He could…say he passed out. From – exhaustion. Yeah. Or some sort of fever. Problem solved. Too bad he couldn’t exactly see any approaching skaters, as his hair had decided to conspire against him with the floor, and was now essentially covering his face. The four-wheeled skates, too. They were all conspiring. Obviously he knew they weren’t, but it was nicer than having to blame it on himself. More comforting.
He could sort of tell that someone was approaching, but that was kind of a given. He was only…lying sprawled on the middle of the carpeted area of a skating rink. People were obviously going to need to get by, and possibly wonder why there was a half-dead person on the floor. He did, however, notice when a person knelt down a bit too close to him to be coincidental. And when said person started breathing on his face. …What the heck was that about? He blinked, slightly irritated – mostly confused. But then he heard the person’s verdict. It all made sense. “Josiah?” He was still on the floor while asking this, so it ended up being rather muffled by the carpet. He should probably sit up, he realized, seeing as Josiah wouldn’t be falling for something like, “I…passed out. On the floor. From exhaustion”. Within a few moments, he had gotten enough control over himself to pull himself into a sitting pose, which still looked admittedly awkward to anyone near him. But it wasn’t like he was going to try to stand up again. Not in the skates, at least. Planting an arm behind himself in an attempt to stay balanced, he looked back towards the bassist. Nonchalantly, as if asking about the freak that was sprawled across the floor a few minutes ago, “Er. Hey?” …Well. This wasn’t going as planned.
[/b][/color] NOTES[/font][/size][/size] i love josiah. just saying. xP ! \TAGGED josiah ! /WORDS 927 ! \LOCATION poodle skirts & roller skates ! /LYRICS all time low ! \CREDIT leena at caution ! [/ul] |
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Post by Josiah Raleigh Hills on Dec 22, 2009 21:04:19 GMT -5
despite this it seems that the powers be, have decided who i am and who i'll be.WHO I AM, WHO I'LL BE ,HAS BEEN DECIDED FOR ME . - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/font] tagged for anybody with 801 words. template by kleptomania ftw?! of caution.[/center] Josiah continued to stare at the face and blow the hair out of his way to see if he was right, but the hair wouldn't abide. He inhaled to breath on him again and he got a sniff of the floor instead of fresh air. He gave a sour face. His nose crinkled, his brows furrowed and he had an all around disgusted face. "Gawd it smells bad in here..." he mumbled truthfully only to himself as he sat up away from his face. "Owen," he started as he watched the tall man sit up. "What the 'flip' are you doing on the ground..." He paused trying to find the world, then nodded to himself a bit like a sort of small head vibration as he found the word. "...all laid out like a monkey that just like," he paused again making strange hand motions like a silent move at Owen as he spoke to him. "got run over by some sort of train or tractor."
Other then being a complete and utter klutz, Josiah knew that Owen wasn't on the ground for no reason. Or was it by chance the fact that Owen was a klutz that he was on the ground? That could be it. He had a way of flying to the ground once he was on things with wheels. Even without wheels the kid fell. Most of the time it was on top of Josiah, but this time he wasn't there to catch his best buddy. He could only imagine, being that tall, how much it hurt to hit the ground. It was as if Jack were to fall of the bean stock or something; it would just plain out hurt. It was a miracle that the kid was still alive and moving. He called Owen 'kid' all the time. He acted like one. Not in a bad way, in a good way of course but he always seemed to have a habit of calling anybody who acted less mature then him a kid. Though, Owen and him acted immature about different things. Josiah didn't like to take relations seriously and liked to goof off about them and Owen was just so stubborn, he was like a child when it came to telling him to do something that he didn't want to do or telling him to stop trying something new when he knew nothing about it.
Josiah looked at the roller skated and just stared at them. What was he doing wearing those kinds of skates? Those things, to Josiah, were much harder to learn out to ride. Some said it was like a bike with training wheels and a bike with just two wheels, a pair of normal and a pair of in-line skates that is. But Josiah would beg to differ. He sat there, staring at Owen like he was stupid for wearing them. "What are you doing here anyway?" he asked and then realized that Owen had never mentioned, all the times Josiah said he was going to skate, that Owen wanted to go. His face took on a state that it knew well, one of thought. He was always thinking about things but his face made him look like he was either judging you like God would one day or it looked like he was so deep in thought that nothing would get him out of that state. His thought process was ticking onward, trying to figure something out. If Owen never said anything about wanting to stake with Josiah before, why on earth was he skating now? and more so, by himself?
Josiah's left hand's index finger twitched. He was sitting on his rear end now, looking at his friend in a dazed thought. His hands were behind him holding him up and he didn't realize it but they actually looked like they were in the same position; like one was a reflection of the other. He tilted his head to the side, then wiggled his toes in his blades and then grabbed the side of the semi-wall that was next to him that created a separation of the hard tile floor and the carpet. He looked down at Owen and then offered a hand down. His thought process still going and you could see it in his face, for it hadn't changed at all. He was still trying to figure it all out. Between 'Puttin' on the Ritz' cover by Shiny Toy Guns and the people in the background laughing and talking he couldn't keep his brain straight.
Suddenly, it hit him. "You can't skate? What the 'heck' are you doing here then?"
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