- - - ALL MY LOVING

[STORY MORDECAI GUERRERO]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #5C5C5C; true] Close your eyes and I'll kiss you Tomorrow I'll miss you Remember I'll always be true And then while I'm away I'll write home every day And I'll send all my loving to you I'll pretend that I'm kissing The lips I am missing And hope that my dreams will come true And then while I'm away I'll write home every day And I'll send all my loving to you All my loving, I will send to you All my loving, darling------------------ close your eyes and i'll kiss you; Ollie slept soundly in the bed next to his, stirring every so often and muttering to herself once but he hadn’t caught what she said. Afraid to get up and wake her, he stayed where he was. Curled up on his side with one arm under his head and the other curled around his sleeping piglet. He had been up for a few hours already, plagued by bad dreams all night that left him restless. Too afraid to fall back asleep. Too afraid of his nightmares. Afraid of making them real again with the power he was plagued with. In classes he could only manage to create tiny little creatures of light, but in his sleep the demons of his mind stood in his bedroom at the full height he imaged them as. Warped versions of his father with arms like whips and saber teeth and devil horns. Story hated that he put Ollie through that. That she was forced to see this demon of his nightmares on a regular basis. He couldn’t help what his power and mind did when he slept though, no matter how many extra classes he took. Having been too scared to move in case he woke her up, Story finally slipped out from under the blankets and gathered up a change of clothes to bring into the bathroom with him for after he showered. The most naked even his roommate had ever seen him was wearing a muscle shirt. He didn’t like showing skin. It made him feel vulnerable. Like his father could see him if he showed too much arm, and if he was seen he would be hurt for breaking his father’s rules. It had only been a year of freedom for Story, so he was still very much in the mind set that his father was still around and ruling over his every act and thought. If he gave someone else the impression that he was available he would be punished like last time; a fireplace poker stabbed right above his genitals. He also felt that he was repulsive when it came to the state of his body. He was too skinny. Too awkwardly shaped because of the abuse and neglect he had faced as a child. Coated in scars, some areas becoming more scar than they were anything else. His back was like a burn victim, only a select few areas untouched by knives and fists and whips and broken glass and whatever other weapons his father could find. He was ugly. No one needed to see that. It was early and he didn’t want to eat. His shower was finished and he was dressed but with nothing to do. The only thing he could really think of doing was having a morning smoke and going for a walk around the island until people started waking up. He didn’t really know what to do with himself. Not in that moment. Not ever. Only slightly high, just enough to calm down his raging anxiety, Story simply wandered and let his thoughts and his feet guide him until he found himself on the beach. While he had never learned how to swim and even though he refused to take off his sweaters, Story enjoyed the beach. He liked the feeling of sand in his shoes and the smell of the ocean; and it reminded him of California which was his place of safety. The place he had been freed in, hence why the State was tattooed on one of his hands. He removed his shoes and buried his feet in the cold sand, wiggling his toes and dropping so he could bury his hands in the sand as well. Should someone approach the beach right now he would probably look rather silly. words; 630 tags; sky/ciara outfit; here notes; c:

[SKYLAR JANE RYAN]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] TELL ME I'M NOT ON MY OWN. TELL ME I WON'T BE ALONE. The Words: IDK The Outfit: jean shorts and a white tank The Mood Curious The Notes this is going to be funny If she could interview herself, she'd say she'd slept pretty well. This was the first time in years that she'd lived a life other than coming straight home from school, not having a social life, and not really having any friends... Actually, it was the first time in a long time that she didn't feel like a freak. The ocean wasn't far from the school, which provided an escape away from the every day study scene. Of course, she didn't mind studying. Especially if she could do it with friends. Yes, friends... she liked that word. Of course she was still trying to figure out her place here... There were sports teams, and though she was very athletic herself, she was just too new to try to attempt to sign up for the soccer team... but in her mind, she had no doubt she'd pass. She just wasn't mentally or emotionally prepared yet. Upon exiting her dorm room, she wandered the campus. It was still fairly early, so when she spotted the older looking boy (judging by his tattoos alone,) wandering around as well, her curiosity perked. She had the urge to follow him, and she did so. Popping her ear buds in, she clicked her iPod to life, her feet pattering softly on the ground as she traced his steps, keeping a safe distance so she was not spotted. Sky found herself hiding only twice, scared he was going to turn around and find her following him so closely. David Archuleta sang out into her ears, and she hummed along to the lyrics, her curiosity peaking higher for this boy and his whereabouts. "Tell me I'm not on my own... tell me I won't be alone. Tell me what I'm feeling isn't some mistake... Save me from myself, you can. And it's you and no one else. If I could wish upon tomorrow, tonight would never end. If you asked me, I would follow. But for now I'll just pretend. Because if anyone can make me fall in love, you can." His final destination seemed to be the same she'd had planned, so some kind of victorious feeling shot through her veins, sending her feet a little faster towards the damp sand. The sun had not even slipped out yet. Stopping as she reached the end of the side walk, she reached down to remove her toms, her feet pressing lightly into the soft sand. She'd never gotten to spend much time on a beach of any kind, so this would be a totally new experience for her. She was about to pursue this boy when she observed him jumping down into the sand, his fingers splaying out to ruin the smoothed surface. It was kind of like that urge she had with new butter - she had to mess up the pretty swirl in the middle before anyone else did. She was just goofy that way. She looked at him for a bit longer, and approached carefully after some thought. How would she ask him why he was here? Or, better yet, explain how she ended up following him here.. He'd think she was a freak... Summing up her courage, she lightly tapped him on his shoulder, stooping over behind him. "Uhm... hello..." she began, reaching up to pull her earbud's out of her ears. "My name is Skylar, but you can call me sky. It's a nice morning, huh?" God, she was a freak. She couldn't even have a conversation with a random person without coming off the wrong way... Maybe one day she'd figure out social interactions, but not today, for sure. created by ADE! Pb-ified by WILL

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[STORY MORDECAI GUERRERO]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #5C5C5C; true] Close your eyes and I'll kiss you Tomorrow I'll miss you Remember I'll always be true And then while I'm away I'll write home every day And I'll send all my loving to you I'll pretend that I'm kissing The lips I am missing And hope that my dreams will come true And then while I'm away I'll write home every day And I'll send all my loving to you All my loving, I will send to you All my loving, darling------------------ close your eyes and i'll kiss you; Story missed California. He missed the beaches there, so vast and expansive and beautiful. He missed bonfires and house parties and Arista. He missed his brother and his niece and nephew and daughter. He missed feeling like he was somewhere safe and somewhere welcomed. He didn’t belong here. He didn’t belong with all of these fantastic people with fantastic powers. Story felt so useless sometimes. Why should he be there when he could only ever use his power when he was asleep? What was the point in him being at this school? Or any school, for that matter. He was too stupid for school. He didn’t fit in here. He didn’t fit into this kind of world. He wanted California back. He wanted Pearl. He wanted to just paint for the rest of his life. Why did he need school if all he wanted to do was paint? It just seemed pointless. If he wasn’t going to ever use the information he was being taught then why should he bother knowing it? It was just wasting space up there in his brain where something useful might be able to go, like the names of his friends, which he kept forgetting. Sometimes he couldn’t even remember his own daughter’s birthday because his mind was too messy. The sand felt good on his toes and fingers, wiggling his appendages as he dug in deeper. He finally lowered his behind onto the sand as well so he was no longer squatting, stretching his legs out and letting sand coat his feet and shins and jeans. His hands rose and fell, creating a little pile of sand between his legs that he continued to add to. It was starting to develop into a nice little castle for imaginary people to live in. So he started making a castle even though the sand kept falling down and wrecking his perfectly constructed building. But he wasn’t all that discouraged and just kept going. It was something to do. Something to keep his hands busy. Occupy his mind and his idle fingers. It was tranquil and the sand felt good and cool and his mood was starting to improve significantly. Despite having been plagued with nightmares that kept him awake he was feeling pretty good right now just playing in the sand like a child. And he was very much a child. He didn’t fit in here because he was still mentally a kid while most of these other students were so mature. And then there was him. He didn’t feel the tap on his shoulder, nerve damage, but he heard a voice and saw someone out of the corner of his eyes. Naturally he jumped, startled, but quickly relaxed when he saw that it was a harmless girl. He wasn’t afraid of girls. They were safe and this one looked sweet and innocent and about as physically strong as Story himself was. And given that he had trouble picking up a toddler that wasn’t that strong. “I’m Story,”

[/color] he answered in a small voice, waving a lazy hand beside him. “Wanna’ come sit with me? It’s a really nice morning. I’m just making sand…things.”[/color] It wasn’t exactly a castle, but he didn’t want to limit it to being a pile either. It was whatever it wanted to be.



[/div]

words; 560

tags; sky/ciara

outfit; here

notes; c:

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[SKYLAR JANE RYAN]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] TELL ME I'M NOT ON MY OWN. TELL ME I WON'T BE ALONE. The Words: IDK The Outfit: jean shorts and a white tank The Mood Random! The Notes this is going to be funny Well at least he was friendly. She'd scared him at first, but seeing him relax into himself, she smiled warmly. It seemed odd, to Sky, how she could scare anyone at all. She was only around 5'5, max (which meant she wore higher shoes that day) and weighed just over 130 pounds. She had some muscle mass, but looked weaker than most imagined her to be. Thus, the non-threatening appearance. She peered around him at his... sand creation and smiled. "I think now would be a good time to be able to move things mentally... Sometimes fingers just.. well they are just too harsh... and don't have the right kind of touch you need for something so delicate... especially things made of sand..." Reaching out gently, she began her own pile, joining Story in his quest to build sand castles. Of course she had smaller fingers, so hers made a more castle like shape in only moments, where as his still seemed dapper even after many attempts. "It's a very nice morning..." she remembered, thinking back on his previously stated greeting. "Of course, I should be out running or trying to get some exercise in... It's just a blah kind of day, I guess." Smiling with the corner of her lip turned up, she shrugged. She liked to meet new people, which is why she almost hated her family for holding her back and out of the public eye. She wasn't a monster by the least bit. In fact, she was really nice 99% of the time. It was only when she got angry that things happened, and that was rare. It took a lot to make this little girl mad. Reaching out, she moved to touch one of his visible tattoos, the dark black ink standing out against his pale skin. Sometimes she forgot that she had to be modest in public - once again, a lack in skills because of her family. Frowning, she withdrew her hand. "Why so many?" she asked, her eyes imagining where the tattoos ended and where others began, but only in the most pg-rated sort of way. Sky just wasn't really that kind of person. Of course, she'd not had much of a social life either. Maybe if exposed to a man she was attracted to that way, she'd think... differently. Smiling slightly, she leaned back, adjusting her legs indian style under her, and resting her hands on her knees. "So, you do go to the school here, right? To be honest, I kind of followed you here. I know, that sounds creepy. I was just curious... I don't know many people here yet. I'm still pretty new... but the name Story... it sounds familiar." Perhaps he'd been the boy she'd spoken to online the day she took part in the chat room. He seemed very funny, but damaged in his temperament, like he did not know how to act, or conduct himself. Maybe he was worried, so he tried to... dull his senses, per-say? She had gotten the vibe that he liked substances that made people feel differently. She'd had a drink of whiskey once, and since she'd vowed to never drink again. Dear God, she may as well be a nun. "I need to get out more... Does it hurt to get a tattoo?" She usually flipped topics and thoughts like this often. Nothing new for Sky to be random, not at all. created by ADE! Pb-ified by WILL

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[STORY MORDECAI GUERRERO]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #5C5C5C; true] Close your eyes and I'll kiss you Tomorrow I'll miss you Remember I'll always be true And then while I'm away I'll write home every day And I'll send all my loving to you I'll pretend that I'm kissing The lips I am missing And hope that my dreams will come true And then while I'm away I'll write home every day And I'll send all my loving to you All my loving, I will send to you All my loving, darling------------------ close your eyes and i'll kiss you; Story was used to being judged. He was used to people looking at him and instantly making a hundred and ten assumptions. He had kind of accepted by now that that would always happen. His stretched ears and tattoos often had people assuming he was some punk, and his choice of baggy shirts had storeowners assuming he was a thief. Which he was, but that was beside the point. He stole when he had little choice in the matter, not because he wanted to. He was mixed race and it showed in his features. He was covered in scars that people assumed were either self inflicted or gang related. It didn’t really bother him overall, but some days it was hard to be looked at with such scrutiny. Wasn’t he supposed to have been free of that when his father went to prison? His piercings and tattoos didn’t decide what kind of person he was. He decided that. He was glad this girl wasn’t thinking that he was someone she should avoid. Someone who might do her bad. He wanted to be a good person, he couldn’t do that if people didn’t give him a chance. “We just need a bit of water, is all,”

[/color] he told her with a bit of pride. He didn’t know much but he had built his fair share of sand castles in his days. “It just keeps falling ‘cause it can’t stick together. Like…skin without bones, you’d just flop around and fall into a pile.”[/color] As he spoke he picked up a giant pile of sand cupped in his two hands and then let it go when he said the word “fall”.

“I’m supposed to be a good runner,”[/color] he started, not looking at her and instead continuing his attempts at building mounds of sand. “If you go by…What’s it called…uh…Racial slurs,”[/color] he continued on. “I think that’s what it’s called. Like…all Asian’s like rice and all black people are good runners and shit like that. According to that I should be a good runner but my lungs are shit.”[/color] They weren’t even bad from smoking, either. They were bad for reasons he couldn’t quite grasp. All he knew was that he got bronchitis a lot and it was a pain in the ass. And if he started laughing too much he would start coughing like a dying old man. When she touched one of his tattoos, which honestly wasn’t hard as both hands were decorated, he held his hands out for her to see for a split second. “I have a lot of stories to tell,”[/color] was his answer and then he started wiggling out of his jacket and let it fall into the sand behind him. His left arm was completely coated in bright inks and his right was simply his hand but instead it was decorated with a wide array of long scars. With his jacket off his neck tattoos were more visible and he tried to let her see as many as she could would having to take any more clothes off.

He gave a small nod as he started looking at his own tattoos now, thinking of the memories about each one. The words on his fingers, the initials, the warmth seeing each one filled him with. “Si. Supposed to be a senior but I got held back last year,”[/color] he answered, still not looking at her. It was still very difficult for him to make eye contact with people so he just looked at his hands and wiggled his fingers. “There’s a girl named Story in that one movie about water by Shamaladingdong.”[/color] He actually had no idea what the guy’s name was but he’s talking about Lady in the Water, a movie which he had no plans on seeing despite sharing a name with a main character. “I…can’t answer that really.”[/color] He finally looked at her, in the eyes as he took in a breath of courage. “This arm—”[/color] He flailed the left one, the one with the sleeve. “I feel almost nothing in it. Sometimes I felt like little scratches sometimes I felt nothing. Everywhere else though, it kinda’ varries. If it’s one bone it hurts like a motherfucker but mostly it’s like…when you walk past a table or something and there’s a nail poking out, and it scratches you a little bit, except a tattoo is that just constantly. It’s more...weird than anything. Uncomfortable. The ones that hurt the most are the ones on my face.”[/color] He was, of course, leaving out the fact that one of those had been completely involuntary.



[/div]

words; 770

tags; sky/ciara

outfit; here

notes; she'd be able to see these and these. if you're worried that i searched for all these just for you, don't worry i already had the smaller images saved xD

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[SKYLAR JANE RYAN]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] TELL ME I'M NOT ON MY OWN. TELL ME I WON'T BE ALONE. The Words: IDK The Outfit: jean shorts and a white tank The Mood Random! The Notes this is going to be funny She could almost guess what he was talking about with racial slurs... He meant stereotypes, but she wasn't about to correct him. It wasn't always nice to correct strangers... And besides, they'd gotten along well so far. She had to laugh, though. "Well if you're meant to be a great runner, I'm supposed to be this very prominent, well versed in social ways kind of girl. Unfortunately, not the case for me..." She hadn't really had the opportunities growing up to figure out who she was. She was really quite boring her own opinion, but it was her parent's fault. "My parents decided that since I was weird... it would be a good idea to lock me inside, and not let me have a social life... Does that make me count on the list of "cinderella like girls"?" she added, her tone falling as she air quoted her words. "Of course, I also don't believe in Prince Charming... if that means anything to you." Well if he knew where his name came from, he probably knew what Cinderella was. "Oh... yeah, I would get annoyed with that then. No tattoos for Sky..." She blew upwards through her lips and over her cheek to push a strand of hair away from her eye. The point of putting it up this morning had been getting it out of her way... She hated not being able to see anything because of a lousy piece of hair. Since her hair was such a bother, something like he described would probably drive her nuts, waiting for it to be over. She'd probably be better off without any tattoos. As he revealed them little by little, Sky began to see what he meant by having many stories to tell. It kind of fit his name. "You know, that could be the true reason behind your name, no matter what cheesy movie it came from." Shrugging, she reached up and took her hair down. He seemed a little more wild than other people she'd met, so why should she be so uptight? She liked to mirror people so they were more comfortable. Sometimes it was a nice surprise to realize she liked to be like they were in certain situations. Her hair flopped in a messy bunch of waves around her shoulders as she wrapped the hair band around her wrist. "But I like your tattoos... Don't let anyone lie to you." Reaching into the pile of sand in front of her, she began creating a small city. At home, in her back yard, she could remember being a little girl with the water hose. She would dig "rivers" into the dirt and fill them with water, pretending it was raining. Piles of dirt would be mountains, grass would be trees, and rocks would make villiages for her imaginary people. Of course, that had been the life of a loner. She was starting to find herself here. "I don't really know a whole lot about myself... I know that I like the color green... And that stars are always fascinating. I like to draw, and build things... and, I cry every time I watch a disney movie. Does that make me lame?" She chuckled to herself, and created a wall around her small city, smiling. "There... now they just need people to fill them..." motioning to the houses. A random thought hit her just then... People were supposedly made by God, but she had yet to decide how she felt about this so called creator. "Do you believe in God?" created by ADE! Pb-ified by WILL

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[STORY MORDECAI GUERRERO]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #5C5C5C; true] Close your eyes and I'll kiss you Tomorrow I'll miss you Remember I'll always be true And then while I'm away I'll write home every day And I'll send all my loving to you I'll pretend that I'm kissing The lips I am missing And hope that my dreams will come true And then while I'm away I'll write home every day And I'll send all my loving to you All my loving, I will send to you All my loving, darling------------------ close your eyes and i'll kiss you; The expression he had whenever he looked at her was similar to that of a small child who was learning something new and exciting for the first time. Like he was being told some grand information that was bettering his existence. He liked this girl. She was really pretty and she was talking to him without having been forced to do so. “Prominent is like…important right?”

[/color] He couldn’t really be sure but it sounded right to him. Clearly Story wasn’t the brightest bulb in the batch. He didn’t really know much of anything, unless it was giving head, rolling joints and painting. Two of those skill sets weren’t even things he learned by choice; he knew how to do them because he’d get his face smashed against the floor if he didn’t. “I guess we don’t really fit what we’re supposed to be,”[/color] he thought out loud. “Being weird is fun though.”[/color] What did parents know anyways? Nothing, in his experience. “Nah, I’d say more Rapunzel than Cinderella.”[/color] He liked that story better, especially the one where the prince went blind.

For Story tattoos were therapeutic. They made him feel better about his physical appearance. He had an oddly shaped body because of his abuse with a weird rip cage and weird hips and a body coated in scars. The tattoos made him feel pretty. He was a walking work of art, not just a weirdly shaped kid. He had memories all over him, even if people didn’t really see the point in the ink he chose to show those memories with. Some of his tattoos were a bit ghetto, yes, but there was a reason he had “millionz” on his hand and “gnarly” on his stomach. “They’re kinda’ like therapy for me, I gues,”[/color] he admitted to her. “I like being walking art. It hides the parts I don’t like.”[/color] He wasn’t quite sure why he was telling her this, he trusted something like that to remain with her. Sky didn’t really seem like the type to go blabbing about, and she had admitted to not knowing a lot of people. “Maybe. I used to think it was a stupid name but I like it. It fits. I’m a guy of many stories so why not be named Story? I’ve never met another person named Story before.”[/color] He’d also never met another Skylar. Then again, he’d never really met very many people. Story watched as she took down her hair and gave a fond smile.

“Gracias,”[/color] he grinned. “I like ‘em too. Well…all but one but that’s a long story.”[/color] He watched as she made a little city, grinning like an excited child and worked to help her. “You draw?”[/color] His interest was peeked and he became attentive all of a sudden. “I do too! I draw and paint. It’s about all I can do,”[/color] he chuckled. “I don’t think it makes you lame. I cried at the Lion King and Bambi. I haven’t seen a lot of Disney movies though, does that make me lame?”[/color] she said their city needed people and he instantly stood, walking closer to the shore and squatting up pick up things she couldn’t yet see. He came back with a hand full of small shells and stones and started placing them very intricately within the city. His hand was shaking though and he almost knocked down one of the buildings. “There. People.”[/color] He had to think about how he wanted to answer her question though. God wasn’t something that crossed his mind very often. It wasn’t something that had ever been a part of his upbringing. “I don’t know,”[/color] he started. “I’ve never really thought about it. You?”[/color]


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words; 620

tags; sky/ciara

outfit; here

notes; reminds me of a line from a modest mouse song "tiny city made of ashes"

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