hold your head up, you silly girl

sorry this is late!
but an using kati nescher really makes me miss ALBG. What happened, @nixandra?
 

Story and bio will be up soon!

man I miss roleplaying ahhh

Hey everybody! How are you all?

It's only been a month since my last set; WE'RE GETTING CLOSER TO MY REGULAR POLY CRAZE
 
I miss you guys!

it's been so long! I use to be obsessed, haha.

Send me links!
@the-clary-project
@glitterinmyviens
@istylista
@luxecouture
@semper-eadem
@ducktape
(Also, I tried messaging you guys but it own't let me! So, I'll just say I missed you all<3)

So, I kind of hated my last set, so, lolol. This is it. I'm writing another one, which I'll be including @teenidle and @impervius, like I said I woooould. :D
 

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There are some moments in everyone's life that are so important they change you forever.
 
Now, some might think mine was when I got pregnant, but it started earlier than that. Much, much earlier than that.
 
In fact, if I had to pin-point the exact date that changed me, I'd say it was August fifteenth, the day I met Markus Porter. He was, at that time, just a stranger who would be my homeroom and study hall teacher. Nothing more. He was new, with no reputation amongst the students.
 
It's weird to think that some people you see every day were once complete strangers. Ryan, Blair, Ginny, Autumn, Michaela. I didn't always depend on them so much.
 
But with Mr. Porter, I wasn't expecting anything out of our meeting. It was just the first day of school. Of course, bound to be hectic, but I had no idea that the man I'd fall in love with would come into my life.
 
Wait. Okay, I'm probably confusing you. Sorry about that. I'll just start over.
 

 

The first day of school was ALWAYS important to me. I mean, even in Kindergarten, Mom says I was a nervous wreck. While I've obviously calmed down quite a bit since I was five, I still get a bit nauseated each year, in anticipation of what's to come.
 
I pick out my outfit a week before hand. I separate it from every other article of clothing I own, just in case. My hair was kept in huge, uncomfortable curlers all night, and my school supplies sat in perfect order, beside the door.
 
Everything was in perfect order. Nothing could go wrong. Except the fact that I woke up an entire hour late.

Now, before I go any farther, you should know that there's an agreed upon rule in the Jameson household that you are never, under any circumstances, late. It just didn't happen.
 
That rule in mind, I bolted out of bed with a genuine shriek. I still had to get the curlers out, style my hair, put on my make up, AND get dressed! What the hell, alarm clock?!

I began taking the curlers out before I reached the bathroom, allowing them to drop on the ground with quiet thuds. I had nearly all of them out before I reached my bathroom, which , thanks to my socks, I slid into and nearly busted my face.
 
Once all the curlers were out and my hair was a mess of waves, I began on my makeup, attempting to comb through my hair at the same time. I ended up with the comb stuck, and lipstick nearly up my nose.
 
Okay, one at a time. Brush through the curls. Good. Now, make-up.
 
Foundation, lipstick, mascara, eye shadow and concealer applied, bobby pins holding my braided bangs in place, I just had to get dressed. I hurried to my closet, yanking my dress off it it's hanger, and shimmying into it. No time for tights. Shoes and necklace, on. I was ready! Record time.
 
I ran out of my room, slid down the stair banister, and ran out the door. Without my keys, or any of my notebooks. Of course.
 

 
I arrived at school with literally no time to spare. I ran into my first period class, Drama. I'd missed the assembly we had each year, but I knew I hadn't missed much, it was the same every year. Blah blah blah, zero tolerance for something, blah blah blah, higher expectations than ever before, blah blah blah.
 
Mr. Porter's door was closed, so I slowly opened it, trying to be as quiet as possible. Of course, he had the creakiest fcking thing in the world. The whole class looked my way, including the teacher.
 
And Oh. My. God.
 
Even though I'd had an entirely hectic morning, I felt like it didn't even matter when I saw him. He was so... handsome. Even though he was a teacher, he looked so carefree, so full of life.
 
“I assume you're Veronica Jameson?” He asked, looking down at a sheet of paper, which held a list of names, all with check marks beside them. All except one, mine.
 
“Right, yeah. Um, yeah, that's me.” I was so flustered at the though that I was /actually/ attracted to a teacher, I didn't even tell him I loathed my real name.
 
“You're cutting it a bit close on time, aren't you, Veronica?” A few giggles came from the mass of students behind me.
 
“Yeah, um, sorry.” I said, resisting the urge to bite my lip. It was a nasty habit I did when I was nervous.
 
“Well, there's one empty seat left, Veronica.”
 
“Okay.”
 
“You can sit in it, if you want?”
 
More laughs. Whoops.
 
“Heh, right. Sorry.” I made my way to the desk, directly in front of his. Not bad.
 

 
Even though our meeting was less than extraordinary, it definitely changed me. For worse or for better, I wasn'y exactly sure.

Hey hey hey.
So, I've written most of this, I just need to finish it up.
 
Who wants to be included?
@teenidle
@impervius

FUN DORIAN FACT: I took a pledge once, and I am officially a Goonie. Jelly?
 
Veronica "Ronnie" Jameson
16
Likes; Spring, gardening, dogs, shorts, necklaces, nail polish, Mr. Porter, blankets.
Dislikes; Spanish class, too-high-expectations, picture frames, frilly dresses, the scent of cleaning supplies.
Veronica is the good girl. All A's in school, the most popular bet for next year's valedictorian, and she volunteers as a teaching assistant at Gardner High's summer school program. Her close friends, at least, know that Ronnie isn't such a goody-two-shoes: like all the other girls, she drinks on occasion, trash-talks the other girls at school behind their backs, and, oh yeah, is hooking up with the drama teacher. It's a thrill, something Ronnie doesn't have many of in her life, and she revels in the illicit little secret that even her friends don't know. Of course, they may soon enough, because let's just say there's a reason Mr. Porter isn't the sex ed teacher, and his wife won't be all too excited about the growing addition to the family.
Relationships: Markus Porter, (Mark Ruffalo), Aimee Jameson (Mother, Nicole Kidman.)
Collection: http://www.polyvore.com/whats_it_all_about_ron-nie/collection?id=1710747#fans
Taken by: @dorian-is-the-walrus

{NOTE: Alexandra (@mischieffoal) is the person who killed Freya's father. She's hasn't been mentioned before because mischief and I just decided on it, so don't be confused!}
 
I had, like many others, gotten to the Square early. It made sense to – someone could easily take a package that didn't belong to them if they got to it. However, unlike everyone else, I wasn't hiding. I wasn't afraid of anyone here. I hated them, but I wasn't afraid. They were scared of me, that was for sure. As one of the first players, people had watched me kill before they were sent in.
 
When the clock struck seven, I ran easily to my package. Once it was slung carelessly over my shoulders, I found my spot.
 
It was a gigantic tree that looked easy enough to climb. I could go up there with a perfect view of Alexandra. She'd have to come sometime, and when she did, I'd kill her, just like she did my father.
 
Climbing came easy to me now, even though I'd grown up in a rather tree-less environment. Six years of practice and I was a professional.
 
My package was quite empty. It held a change of clothes, a bit of food, and one single letter. I was surprised to see it, honestly. When my father was chosen, I stayed home. All my friends were almost forgotten. So, I picked the envelope up gently, as if afraid it was a figment of my imagination. When it didn't crumble in my hands, I opened it.
 
The paper was white, unlined. I realized then that it was the first piece of paper I'd seen in eight years, since my first day here and the note that stated simply, 'Survive.'
 

Dear Freya,
 
I miss you. We all miss you. It's been six years since I've seen you when you weren't on a screen, but it's safe to say we've both changed immensely. I'm thirty-four now, and I'm pregnant. You understand I won't tell my child that he's related to you. You're so brutal now. So unlike your father.
 
Regardless, I do miss you. Henry was my only brother, and so I constantly look for him in you. But I can't anymore, Freya. I honestly think you need to realize he wouldn't want you to kill everyone in your sights.
 

 
Though the letter did not stop there, I couldn't read it any more. How in the world could Aunt Marie say that? Her brother was dead because of this girl! I had to kill. I had to.
 
I wasn't often this angry. I usually was angry, but not like this. My breathing became heavier, my fists clenched around the paper. I wanted to scream. I hated Aunt Marie. I hated her.
 
Was she watching now? Had she enjoyed writing that letter, telling me I was nothing like the man I loved so much? I had to kill, to avenge him. How could she not understand that?
 
I crumbled the paper up and threw it. I didn't care where it went. I hoped some animal pissed on it.
 
I'd just have to forget about it. I never read the letter. I never read it.
 
To put my mind off of it, I had to direct my entire attention on finding Alexandra. While I waited, I pulled a water bottle out of my package, and sipped on it, focusing on finding Alexandra. The water tasted strange. Metallic, almost. Perhaps I'd just grown accustomed to having water that came from a stream.
 
I only had to wait for a short time before I saw my chance. It wasn't Alexandra, though. It was a boy who was collecting a number of packages, including Alexandra's. He was her accomplice.
 
If I hurt him, she'd have to come, and then I'd have her. I hopped down from my branch, as quietly as I possibly could.
 
I didn't really think about anything except my father as I sneaked behind the guy, hitting him across the head as hard as I could. Then, as quickly as I could, I darted behind a bush, waiting. I could hear Alexandra whistle, and then some animal came running. She got there moments after, her arrow drawn.
 

I began to feel nauseated then. I didn't think much of it, really. I just slowly made my way behind Alexandra, trying to surprise her. However, as fate would have it, I snapped a twig while I was at it. She spun around, her bow pointed at me.
 
I was forced to hit her hard across the hand, disarming her. I was glad to have the upper hand.
 
However, in a moment my mind began to feel clouded, and the water bottle I'd finished off came into my mind. It was poisoned! That's why it tasted so strange.
 
Alexandra didn't seem to notice my strange behavior, and for that I was grateful. She looked pathetic, scared. I hated her.
 
I swung at her again, missing this time. I could NOT die without killing my enemy!
 
Alexandra was yelling something, trying to prevent me from killing her. Ha!
 
“I DIDN'T MEAN TO KILL HIM!”

She was lying! Of course she had, I'd seen it with my own eyes. What a witch she was, to kill my father and expect no outcomes?
 
My knees refused to hold me. I pounced on top of her, my case held firmly secured between my hands. This was it. If this poison didn't kill me, I would kill her.
 
And then, I brought my arm up and, fainted.
 
(@nixandra, Sorry this was written so terribly! But you said you wanted to include Freya in your story, so I thought I 'd tag you so I knew you'd read it! )

http://www.polyvore.com/mothers_wing_league/group.show?id=134214http%3A%2F%2Fwww.polyvore.com%2Fmothers_wing_league%2Fgroup.show%3Fid%3D134214
So, this is a sample audition for MWL.
 
inspired by @semper-eadem's dolls and @fleetingfanfan's lovely sets!
 
Name: Poppy Elizabeth Pierce
Idol: Opha Johnson
Age: 22
Category: Fighter
Quote: “I don't want to die without any scars.”
Bio: Though a very skilled fighter, Poppy is a good girl by nature. She doesn't like to use her gift often, and when she does, it's only for her cause. She likes to read, write, smile, laugh. Nothing a person would expect from a girl who has the potential to kill someone so easily. Her Mother was a scientist who never left her lab. She experimented on Poppy sometimes, which had no real damage other than causing Poppy to black out every once in a while. She usually awakens with dead bodies around her. Poppy is quite afraid of herself, but she's very adamant about her cause, and is not likely to give up on it.
Model: Anabela Belikova
Taken by: @dorian-is-the-walrus
Collection: http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/collection?id=1673394
 
Because she wasn't always so strong, Poppy often surprised herself at how easily over-powering someone came to her. She could simply /do/ it, without really trying. And she never really had to train, or lift weights, as her counterparts did. She supposed she should be glad, though in all honesty, she'd rather be a spy than anything. She wanted to be married, even if she didn't love the man.
 
Of course, she realized that some spies were abused, however, in Poppy's eyes, their jobs were the most important. She longed to be a part of that category – to be a traitor.
 
But, thanks to her mother, Poppy was stuck being a fighter. And it's not as if she is ungrateful for her strength, she just wished she could marry in spite of it. It was hard sometimes to pretend she was weak, like most girls. And she wasn't pretty enough to catch the eye of a man and hold it without trying, so she needed some other defining factor. When Poppy ventured into the public eye, it was of the utmost importance that she radiated elegance, that she acted the part of a lady. She didn't want people knowing she had the strength of a man, though she could never seem to trap a man either way.

With thoughts of marriage clouding her head, Poppy stepped through her door frame, careful not to wake her mother. The woman had been up all night, claiming to have 'struck scientific gold'. She'd produced an inject-able serum which gave someone the ability to go for days without sleep. Obviously, it hadn't gone as planned. She'd been snoozing for twenty four hours now.

Poppy made her way through the town, careful to stay away from fellow MWL member's homes. It was mostly Radicals who lived in these parts, and quite honestly, she would rather not interact with them above ground. Especially if she was on the way to a meeting. It would look suspicious for the girls to walk together.
 
Poppy trod the familiar path, avoiding puddles and houses of especially suspicious males. She met a few League members on her way, all of whom she promptly ignored.
 
And, finally, she arrived to the familiar spot. It was well hidden, and completely innocent looking to the naked eye. When Poppy first became a member, she'd been completely taken aback that the spot she'd passed daily was the center for a rebellion!
 
However, as shocked as she once had been, Poppy was now completely at home in the League. She trained the younger fighters nightly, confident that one day, she would be able to say she'd been there when women gained their rights.
 
And that was the most she could hope for.