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Post by dominic lloyd jensen on Apr 20, 2013 13:30:36 GMT -5
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Senseless Denial, We spun like birds on fire right down towards the residence and i I took all that I desired even crooks have to pay the rent We swam like rats on fire right, right down the reservoir We took all that we could carry but we tried to carry more 
Dom sat in the empty classroom, feet up on the desk. Last period class of the day had just ended and all of the students and the teacher had already walked out. All without a goodbye. Which was fine with him. No one seemed to be too attached to him, or at least, friends with him. He wouldn't consider any of them close. He was just the silent guy in the back of the classroom that would occasionally help them or tell them to shut up. The classrooms were quiet for the most part. They all paid attention, they all wanted to do well. It almost made Dom sick. Why did they bother? There were stuck here. For the rest of eternity. If Dom was going to be a student here, he wouldn't attended class. What was the point? There must be something more here, something to do here, something other than just sit in class. Didn't they find it boring? He knew some of them had to be thinking of doing something better with their "lives". Dom was thinking about that too. He never had time to explore Dirge - but then again, he didn't know how large Dirge was. He could quite possible spend all of eternity exploring and never find an end.
But was any of this really necessary to think about? True, he did have time, but he could spend his time in a better way. He sighed. Why did he hang back? There was no need. There was just something enchanting about the empty classroom. It almost made him nostalgic. He remembered how he and his friends would hang back in the lecture halls and fool around. They would stand on desks and shout, scribble all over the boards, go through the teacher's desk. They were college kids, but that didn't stop them. They had a life ahead of them that would be full of struggles. They had to enjoy the life they had now so they could look back and have no regrets. That was the idea anyway. Even when Dom looked back, he still had some regrets. Like never telling Sarah about how he felt. Or trying to meet people. But then again, Dom wasn't one tell his feelings and he wasn't one to talk. So maybe things were just better as they were.
Leaning back in his chair, Dom pulled out his camera. Photography. There was something oddly charming about catching a moment in time. Dom snapped a picture of the chairs, the desks, the lecture hall - all with his feet propped up on the desk. He rather liked it. The emptiness, the quiet, the calm, all in one picture. He snapped a few more, trying different perspectives, different settings. Each one was slightly different. And maybe that's why he loved photography. Everything was different. It was impossible to take the exact same picture again; every picture was unique. And when people took picture the right way, it could speak so many volumes to so many people. And it wasn't just one message, it was millions of other messages - each person interpreted everything differently. There could never just be one message. And Dom loved that.
Dom always saw it as a way to express himself, when words couldn't do it. Which was really important to him because more often then not, he didn't have the words. Nor could he find it in him to speak those words out loud. Which was odd because Dom never saw himself as a shy person. In fact, sometimes, he could be pretty bold. He was pretty sarcastic sometimes. And he used his sarcasm and indifference as a defense. And the people that stayed, well, they were worth getting to know.
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Post by charlotte noelle o'niall on Jul 1, 2013 4:52:06 GMT -5
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i can tell that we're gonna be friends
if charlotte o'niall were to be completely and one hundred percent honest (which she was, three fourths of the time, really), she really hadn't had a best friend in life. it had been forever and a half since she'd last checked the rock solid resource that is urban dictionary, despite the fact that she'd harbored an almost unhealthy affinity for the website during her high school years, but if she recalled correctly, which she was damn near sure she did, the definition of a best friend was something along the lines of: the first person you think about when you make plans; the first person you go to when you need someone to talk to. you'll phone them up just to talk about nothing, or the most important things in your life. when you're sad they will try their hardest to cheer you up. they give the best hugs in the world. they are the shoulder to cry on, because you know that they truly care about you. in most cases they would take a bullet for you, 'cause it would be too painful to watch you die.
okay, woah. let's slow this puppy down and take a looksy. the first person you think about when you make plans? when charlotte o'niall was in the mood for going out, charlotte o'niall went out, and she went alone. what was the point of being attached at the waistband to one person for the whole night? like, thanks, but no fucking thanks. charlotte wanted to have fun, and she wanted to in her own way. it's not like she could exactly find a little buddy for the night if there was someone else hanging around. charlotte worked alone, and she was damn good at it.
the first person you go to when you need someone to talk to. now, that one was just ridiculous. if things ever got so bad that charlotte actually needed to talk about them, all of her problems would dissolve in just a matter of sips of the liquid therapist that is strawberry hill. and that was that. she didn't fucking need someone to talk to. sure, she talked to max every once in a while about how deep in the pits her shit life was that week, but even then it wasn't as if she was reciting a memoir. she simply made sure he got the barest gist of what was going on, and after a few words of sympathy or advice or just a moment of silence, she'd pat his knee, ruffle his hair, and hoist herself off the nubby carpet of his bedroom floor and shuffle back on over to her cave. and that was how she liked it. it was just that alcohol was so much simpler--is so much simpler to her than people were and will ever be. people would want to talk things out. people would pretend that they knew exactly how she felt when in fact they knew shit. and it wasn't that charlotte was just being a cynical bitch who didn't hand out chances to anyone. charlotte had been down the people road before, and look where that landed her: a cynical bitch who didn't hand out chances to anyone. with alcohol, you got immediate relief, even if temporary. alcohol didn't ask questions or pretend; it just cut to the chase and made everything better, exactly as it should have been from the start.
you will phone them up just to talk about nothing, or the most important things in your life. that one had sent charlotte into side-splitting hysterics, her laughter literally unceasing for at least two minutes, or at least long enough that her mother had run up with a glass of water and worry painted on her heart-shaped face. but could you blame her, really? why in hell[/] would charlotte ever waste her breath telling anyone a story that they would never understand? charlotte knew the way the world worked, or at least the world of her fellow teenagers, and that was a world she would be damned before she opened up to. the hollow shells that called themselves human beings that she'd been forced to live around for the whole extent of her life were practically programmed to see things in black and white; they saw what was on the surface and didn't bother to go any further. they saw what they wanted to see, and when it came to a girl like charlotte, that just didn't cut it. she was so much more than black and white; she was seriously fifty shades of gray, with some teals and mints and fucking magentas, a smattering of colors that only turkeys can see. but it wasn't like anyone gave a shit. the surface of charlotte's rainbow was merely skimmed, if that, before automatic opinions rose up faster than wild onions in a midwestern field, and it didn't take long before charlotte stopped giving shits, too, if she'd ever given any in the first place. no one deserved her fucking rainbow in the first place.
when you're sad they will try their hardest to cheer you up. three words, baby: al. co. hol.
they give the best hugs in the world. if there was one thing about charlotte, it was that she. was not. a fucking hugger.
they are the shoulder to cry on, because you know that they truly care about you. oh, please. first of all, charlotte o'niall did not cry in front of anyone. crying was for pussies who couldn't handle their shit. and second of all, no one truly cares. if there was one thing that charlotte learned in her entire high school career, it was that.
in most cases they would take a bullet for you, 'cause it would be too painful to watch you die. yes, well, it was a little late for that. besides, would anyone launch him or herself off a ship and into an indefinite oceanic abyss for charlotte? she didn't think so, either.
so maybe charlotte was being a bit cynical, but her beliefs still held strong and firm. as far as she was concerned, best friends were for people who couldn't handle the world on their own, and if there was one thing charlotte knew, it was that she could handle anything. perhaps not in the most conventional way, but she could still handle anything. there was simply no room for anyone else in the picture, and that was the way she wanted it to be.
and it was a chilly night at the end of freshman year september when brooke elaine grace came along and pushed charlotte up right against the edge of the picture frame to make room for herself. charlotte didn't remember a lot of things from her life--she'd spent many a time training herself to block most of her life out, to be honest, every ounce of shittiness she'd wasted her time on not worth remembering in the slightest--but this was a moment the was definitely in her top five. she had just lost her virginity to some random she'd met at the party she was at, and she now lay in bed as close to the edge as she possibly could. her naked body was flooded head to toe with shame and regret and loathing and disgust, and all for herself to boot, and it wasn't just the drunken, unready, unwanted fucking with the boy that was stretched out next to her that had caused all of these crap emotions--it was everything that had happened since the beginning of that summer. it was her losing every single one--no matter how few--of the people she'd thought she could call friends. it was the looks of disappointment that seemed to be tattooed now on her parents' faces each time their eyes met with hers. it was the fact that she was the blackest as black sheep came, the only one out of the four o'niall kids that apparently missed the success memo when it was being handed out. it was the fact that she was a fucking failure, at fourteen years old, when her life was supposedly just beginning. it was the fact that she was depressed as all hell, that she'd forgotten how to live without the constant temptation of pressing a blade or a flat iron or just something to her thighs that were already so sore from the self abuse that they'd practically numbed. it was the fact that no matter how much she fucking hated, hated, fucking hated the cheap, repulsive, meaningless sex she'd just succumbed to, it was the only thing that had made her feel slightly worth anything in the past what felt like forever, even though it only proved further that she wasn't worth shit. she knew more than anything that what's his name, half asleep on the mattress they shared with her goddamn underwear balled up in the fists that stretched over his bony ass chest didn't see her as anything more than a one-and-a-half-hour thrill, and the moment he woke up, life would go on as normal. but for some damn reason, charlotte still felt a glow of false hope that surrounded her heart, a tiny voice at the back of her brain trilling, you're special, he thinks you're beautiful, he's wanted you this whole time, blah, blah, fucking blah. it was everything.
charlotte hadn't even planned on having sex with anyone that night. she was just so depressed, and just so done with life, and she just felt so suffocated, and all she wanted to was to simply escape for a while. word had swirled around the halls at school all week of a party at the place of some junior she didn't even know, but after spotting the house address in a handful of tweets and facebook updates and myspace posts, charlotte just knew she had to go; that this was her golden ticket out of hell, if just for a little a while. she was going to take what she could get.
and so, a few hours and what felt like a thousand drinks later, charlotte found herself dragging herself towards a half open door, in desperate need of someplace, anyplace to rest her drunk ass for a while. she was literally on her hands and knees at this point, too wasted and too tired to hear or care about the snickers and jeerings that surrounded her. pulling herself to the bedroom carpet took every ounce of strength left within her, and as soon as the tips of her toes were out of the hallway, she let her body go limp; fuck even trying to get on the bed. and it was good that she'd decided not to, anyways--the bed was currently occupied, very occupied, and charlotte realized this within a matter of seconds. for a flashing second, stiffening and jolting discomfort jumpstarted her entire system, and she was completely ready to pull herself back out of the room, when she was suddenly overwhelmed with yet another wave of lethargy, and fuck it, she was going to stay put, end of story.
she wasn't sure how long she'd been out when she was caught. "the fuck?" a raspy male voice yelped from the bed. charlotte's eyes shot open, startled, and she jacked herself up on her elbows into a half-seated position. despite that she couldn't see clearly at all, she could just barely make out a couple perched on the mattress, the girl on the right side of the bed, clutching the sheets tightly to her bare body, and the guy on the right, quickly dressing himself in the dark. as he finished pulling his t-shirt over his head, lottie could see his eyes glinting in the dark, wild and furious. "how long have you been there, you little freak?"
charlotte blinked a few times, slowly, thoughtfully, trying to process what was going on as best as she could. but every time she thought that she was getting close to solving the puzzle, it would slip away from her, and soon, she was just so tired, so tired once again, and she let her head loll back limply, a low moan unintentionally erupting from her throat.
"goddamn," the boy was saying now, but he didn't sound angry anymore. more… excited, maybe? or something. charlotte definitely couldn't tell. "she's wasted as fuck." the mattress springs creaked a little as he changed his position. "you need to get out of here," he told the girl. like what had just happened never even happened.
little squeaks and stammers filled the air. she was caught off-guard; she, too, wasn't expecting to just be brushed off like this. her voice was trembling and tiny when it finally came out. "i--but--"
"now." the boy spoke as if she were the one doing the wrong, as if he actually had business telling her to leave. there was another moment of silence, broken only when the girl finally pushed herself out of bed and left the room, shutting the door softly behind her. almost instinctively, the boy shot out of the bed and over to charlotte on the floor. she let out another moan and didn't protest when she felt two arms lifting her off of the carpet before dropping her pretty carelessly on the bed, like she was a backpack after a long day of school. and soon, he was jumping on top of her, sucking messily at her mouth as one hand worked roughly in the tangles of her hair with the other getting her out of her hoody as fast as he could. he didn't even seem to care that charlotte was half unconscious, and honestly, she didn't either. she pursed her lips in an attempt to kiss him back, but when even that took too much effort, she just stuck the tip of her tongue out to meet his. and that seemed good enough.
once the hoody was off, everything else just seemed to follow suit. and in the blink of an eye, it was all over, and now here she rested, her head spinning and reeling with so much confusion and frustration and denial and pure fucking hatred for everything and all that she was.
charlotte let herself lay still for a heartbeat longer, closing and opening her eyes over and over into the darkness, as if she couldn't process the fact that this was all real--and in all honesty, she kinda couldn't--and when it became undeniably clear that it was, that the boy lying next to her wouldn't be rolling over any soon to wrap his arms around her waist and insist that he'd had his eye on her all school year, no matter how short, and that he wanted to know each and every of her odds and ends if it took him forever to find out, when it was clear that she was nothing but a slampiece in his mind, she willed herself out of bed and searched blindly for her clothes, ultimately stumbling upon all of them strewn precariously at the edge of the bed. she dressed herself haphazardly, not even sure if she'd clasped her bra at the correct clasp or if her jeans were zipped up all the way, but really, what was the point?
she was nursing both a migraine and a solo cup of sprite she'd found in the kitchen, half wondering if staying around at the party was even worth it anymore, if the girl preceding her in the bedroom was still here, too, when out of nowhere a shock of electric blue whirled by in some amped up version of the macarena, nearly knocking lottie's cup out of her hands. she was practically sucking the air out of a green glass bottle and yet she didn't seem drunk in the littlest bit--just confident. charlotte o'niall never became awestruck of anyone, but in that second, she came pretty damn close.
it wasn't long before she was caught staring, realizing only then that she even was staring in the first place, and by then it was much too late to just avert the girl's gaze and continue on as if nothing happened. and if charlotte were to be one hundred percent truthful, she didn't really want to continue on as if nothing happened. she wanted to get caught. though she would never admit so ever, in life and in death, there was something about this girl that captivated charlotte legitimately in ways no one ever had before. no, not like that. charlotte was into guys, and her little rendezvous of the night expressed that pretty well. it was unexplainable, really, the tight but comfortable hold that she had over charlotte, and for some reason, just being around her made the then-fourteen-year-old feel, well, not better, per se, but just… not as bad.
and so their eyes remained locked for a few moments, charlotte's chocolate gaze focused on the girl's shining baby blues, until finally the silence was broken. the girl moved closer, a covergirl-flawless smile painted just beneath her ski slope nose. "hey, hey, stranger," she trilled, moving a lock of glossy blond hair over her ear. "having fun at my party?"
charlotte hesitated. "fuck off, bitch," she could practically hear herself say. the phrase hung like a sore throat at the back of her tongue, threatening to emerge with the next cough. but at the very last second, surprising the hell out of bold and brash charlotte o'niall, all three words dissolved, seemingly evaporating into thin air right before the freshman's widened eyes. at the same time, she felt her mouth opening still, and soon she was spewing her whole life story to some chick she didn't even know.
brooke elaine grace was the closest thing to a best friend that charlotte had ever had in life. hell, up until her death, charlotte believed that they were best friends. neither one ever officially christened the other with the term in the four years they'd known each other, but they didn't have to--they just knew.
but then charlotte had gone and fucked the goddamn fiance of her best friend the night before their fucking wedding. and she was pretty sure that best friends didn't do that to each other.
charlotte tried hard not to think about that night anymore, though. there was no point. what good would thinking about it do now? it wasn't like thinking about it could exactly bring her back to life or anything. and, if charlotte were to be honest, it wasn't like she wanted to be brought back to life, either. sure, she'd wanted it more than anything in her first days here in the dirge, but she supposed that everyone up here went through that stage at some point in their death. what was there for her in life, really? a family that couldn't stand to even look at her? meaningless one night stands after meaningless one night stands? there was so much more to be offered here, in death, as crazy as that sounded. but it was true. for starters, she had a best friend here. an honest-to-god best friend. oliver henry hughes--ohh, as char had affectionately dubbed him the night they met so many months ago--was practically a living version of the urban dictionary definition. and with a friend--a best friend--like ohh at her side, absolutely nothing else mattered.
well…okay, maybe that was a bit of a stretch. yeah, ollie was pretty much the friend charlotte had been searching for in the past almost-nineteen years she'd been in existence, but that was kinda it: he was just one friend, her only friend. and she definitely had nothing against oliver in that; how could she, with everything he'd done for her in the relatively short time he'd been in her life, for lack of a better word? she wasn't that terrible a person. but she was going to be here forever, and, selfish as she sounded, she really didn't like the idea of being forced to go through the rest of forever with one singular friend to her name. she just wasn't that kind of person. it wasn't like she intended to simply up and leave oliver. she would never. she just needed someone else to be thrown in the mix.
charlotte had been mulling this over some seven minutes after her last class for the day--thank you, father god--heading now for the exit, determined to squeeze a nap in before having to meet ollie for dinner at seven thirty, when a sudden snapping filled the stock-still air, stirring the fairy from her thoughts. the snapping resounded again, and it was then that charlotte realized it was the rapid shutter of a camera she was hearing. and it seemed to be coming from the classroom just two doors ahead. charlotte squeezed her eyes shut tight. no more than five seconds had passed when she opened them again, and she was invisible; she'd willed herself into a ghost.
the eighteen-year-old crept curiously forward, the snapping getting louder with each of her careful steps, and soon, she was in the doorway of a classroom she'd never been before. a teacher she'd never seen before either sat semi-reclined in the plush leather desk chair that seemed to be in every room. in his hands, pressed against his face, rested the source of the snapping--a rather impressive camera that charlotte vaguely recalled her dad having, the one he toted to every vacation in hopes of capturing an at least half-decent family moment, something that was definitely rare to the o'nialls as long as charlotte was around.
charlotte dared herself to step closer to study the camera at a closer angle, just to see if it really was the one her dad had had, though she had no idea why she cared so fucking much, but before she knew what was going on, a sharp pain flooded through her hipbone; she'd bumped into the goddamn corner of the goddamn desk. "fucking hell!" the fairy shrieked. her body temperature dropped a considerable amount as her ghost facade slipped away from her.
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Post by dominic lloyd jensen on Jul 17, 2013 22:00:18 GMT -5
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Senseless Denial, We spun like birds on fire right down towards the residence and i I took all that I desired even crooks have to pay the rent We swam like rats on fire right, right down the reservoir We took all that we could carry but we tried to carry more
Damage. The one thing humanity was very good at: damaging others. Hurting others. Causing others pain. All of that fantastic shit. Humans could create chaos, tear worlds apart, and destroy everything. They could end the world if they wanted to. And to be honest, Dominic was sure that they would eventually end the world. Oblivion was inevitable to him. Humans and their need to hurt and destroy was probably why Dominic hated most of humanity. It wasn't the best outlook, but he didn't really care. Humanity was a fucked up thing, and Dominic was almost depressed by the fact that he was apart of it. Humans had no measure or idea of how much pain they caused others around them. They were oblivious. Which might have been the most infuriating thing about humans. They don't know how much damage they cause until a war has broken out. And even then, most refuse to believe they had anything to do with it.
Dominic often tried to justify why people chose to be like this. And the best explanation Dominic could think of was the fact that humans wanted to make a mark. They wanted to be remembered forever, they wanted to be praised like Cleopatra or Einstein. And in order to be remembered, they needed to be remarkable. They needed to be some sort of genius or artist. They needed to outshine everyone and everything. To get to the top you had to push others down, and that's where the pain came in. And all of this was foolish in Dom's eyes. Because, if you remember, oblivion is inevitable. In the end, no one was going to be around to remember anyone. It was better, in Dom's mind, to walk lightly. He could be content just living a simple life, and not making a scar upon the face of humanity.
But of course, Dominic wasn't any different from humans. He was a homo sapien, he was just like everyone else. He had hurt many people in his lifetime, and that wasn't going to end here in Dirge. He was just more keenly aware of the damage he caused. He knew he had hurt his parents more than anyone. Dominic had pushed them away. They had always wanted him to be something more than he was ever going to be. They, like most other people, wanted him to leave a mark. And that's where they differed. Dominic didn't want to leave a mark. Dominic had also broken the hearts of many girls. He'd pissed of plenty of guys, and of course, he'd been a pain in the ass for his teachers. And he knew he did all of this. He was indifferent towards everything and plenty of people hated him for it.
However, there was one person in his life that he never wanted to hurt or harm. And that was little Q. To be quite honest, she wasn't little at all. She was only a few years younger than Dominic, but she would always be the little one in his mind. And she was perfect and bubbly and nice. Quinn was his little sister and he would protect her whenever she needed it. She was the only person that gave him some hope in humanity. Because if people like Q existed, maybe the world wasn't as fucked as he thought it was. She was kind and good in nature, and above all, she was the only one that understood Dom. She could take all of this sarcastic comments and ignore them. She was something else. Quinn was the only thing keeping the family together. If he didn't have her as a little sister, he and his parents would have never talked ever again. They would have been complete strangers. And that was the power that Quinn possessed: the power to bring people together. And that was something else.
It was often on days like today, Dom would think of Quinn and think about what they'd be doing together if he were still alive. He didn't see her often because they lived in different states, but they tried their best. Dom always felt empty whenever it came to Quinn. No one would quite fill her shoes. Lost in thought, Dominic didn't hear a girl walk into the room. He jumped as he heard a female's voice cut through the silence of the room. "Fucking hell!" she shrieked. Dominic was dazed for a moment, still trying to figure out when the girl had walked into the room, and how he hadn't noticed her. At was after another gasp of pain Dominic put the camera down and faced her. He didn't touch her, for fear she might think he was trying to come onto her or something. "You okay?" he asked, face blank. He studied the girl in front of him. She couldn't be older than Q, not by much anyway. In fact, Q may have been older. However, Dominic doubted that. He watched, wondering if she needed help.
words: 839 notes: yet another post! more outfit: click tagged: #char #bella |
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