ANDREA ULLIEL's Polyvore

{gin celestia crawford}
Gin is a loud, rude girl with a heart of tar. She has a tangled mop of pitch black hair and yet the boys are attracted to her far beyond anyone else. She's snarky and mean, but definitely not stupid. Her parents forced her to go to Oxford, but she slipped away in the night to come live at Luxe. She doesn't really like boys too much, she just loves to party. Nobody knows her intentions, and that scares some. Everyone wants to be her, but inside, she's a hot mess and has screwed up her life. Her and Uruguay have the closest thing to a friendship, but in general she avoids people all together. She is never emotional, but is a truly colorful girl.
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"Would you like some help with your hair, ma'am?"
Gin's maid peered around the corner, the tone of her voice not unlike that of a frightened child.
Gin was perched on the small bench in front of a beautiful vanity embellished with the finest of woodwork, tiny cherubs and blossoms delicately intertwined on every inch of the ivory-painted surface.
"No, no, fuck it. This will just have to do," Gin replied, her brow furrowed as she glared at her reflection.
Her raven-like hair sat atop her head in a tangled mop that was supposed to be an elegant chignon. Her eyes were bleary, rimmed with smudged black liner from the night before. Her lips seemed to be eternally stained with the wine that she so thoroughly enjoyed, night after night.
"Hmph."
With a gloved hand, she inserted a few delicate pins of pearls and gold into her tresses, then turned her head this way and that to examine her handiwork.
In the process of doing so, Gin noticed that her maid was still cowering in the corner, trembling like a little mouse.
Gin stood up and strode over to the poor woman, a grin on her face that clearly stated that she was up to no good.
"Oh Rosie," Gin purred, her eyes gleaming cruelly. "I don't see why you are so afraid of me dear."
Rosie's face drained of any traces of color, and she lowered her eyes.
"I'm not afraid of you," she stammered.
Gin laughed and gently placed her hand on Rosie's cheek.
"Oh, my dear. You should be. You really should be."
At that, Rosie burst in to tears, as she did almost everyday because of Gin's evil antics.
 
Gin ran up the many flights of stairs, where there was to be a night of champagne and discussions of the fine arts, new theories--none of which entertained Gin in the least. Of course, the night would quickly turn into hours of excess drinking and gambling, as it always did. Gin would bat her eyelashes shyly at the boys, who would be enamored on the spot.
She would then lead her prey away--whichever boy she chose for that night--and tease him, sometimes more. To Gin, these nights were just a game. A game she always intended to win, and the stakes were always at their highest.
Gin sighed as she entered the lavishly decorated sitting room, fanning herself daintily, putting on the act that she had become so good at.
As soon as she had stepped into the room, Gin was whisked away to a table to join in a game of cards.
Champagne and wine flowed freely, inhibitions were thrown out the window.
When it came to gambling at The Luxe Estate, nothing was off limits.
After a few rounds, Gin had lost a couple hundred dollars and most of her clothing, yet she was still somewhat composed, even after the massive amounts of alcohol she had consumed in such a short time.
Just as she had gotten up to retire to her room for the night, a beautiful boy caught her eye.
She glanced up at him, her cheeks blushing prettily.
Gin was not shy, not in the least. But the boys seemed to be drawn to a seemingly innocent, coy young lady, so she had learned to perfect this masquerade years ago.
Dame noticed the flirty glances that were being exchanged between Gin and the mystery boy.
"New prey, huh Gin?" Dame giggled.
Gin simply smiled, for the girls knew her well enough to see through her act. Fortunately, the boys seemed oblivious to her feigned charm.
She stood up, throwing beautiful boy a quick look, before she strode out of the room.
Without even turning her head, Gin knew the boy had followed her, just like every boy before him.
This was going to be easy.
She turned on her heel, pretending to be startled to see someone following her.
The nameless boy stood there, not sure what to do.
Without a word, Gin walked up to him and slowly began kissing her way down his neck, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt.
She kissed his exposed collar bones, he ran his hands down her back. She could feel him begin to breathe heavily as he dug his fingers into her hips.
Slowly, she ran a delicate hand over his chest, across his shoulder, down his arm.
Gin nibbled his ear, whispered inaudible things. He grasped at her skin even harder.
Then, she simply took the bottle of champagne he had been holding.
"Thanks," she said, kissing his cheek.
He stood there, completely stunned, as this disheveled, beautiful, mess of a girl walked away.
 
Gin collapsed into her bed, satisfied with herself.
She knew she was a walking contradiction, and she was not going to let anyone figure her out.
Not just yet.
 

(Sorry for the boring story)

For THAMES. Story up :)
.thames.MISTER.
in for : dementia, incontrolability over her life
notes : thames always laughs unnecesserally loudly when called by her last, miss mister, often slapping her thigh and clamping her hand over her mouth in great amusement. though she always acts like this with us, she is actually a peaceful creature that for some reason refuses to leave the R.M.I. she's a bit off into space, and dreams of swimming across the Thames River, since she was named after it. thames skipped three grades, and after four years of leading an impeccably flawless life, she broke down, figuring there was something wrong. she often reveals about having dark thoughts, and has flickering eyes that always linger over the plastic cutlery. she had a twin sister that commited suicide because she felt constantly outshined by thames. shane, her sister, also came to R.M.I, but took her life while on Christmas break. thames feels thoroughly responsible for her sister's actions. though thames has been approached by modeling scouts, she seems to have a cloudy and indistinguishable future ahead. she has a small twenty-inch waist, with grass-green eyes and brown hair.
looks like: Myf Shepherd
state of improvement : 7/10
OPEN
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My eyes flew open, and a flood of incomprehensible screams rang in my ears, waking me up for what had to be the tenth time tonight since I had collapsed into my tiny hospital-issued bed, the thin hospital-issued gown draped over my bony frame.
 
Outside my window, the sky was a rosy pink as the sun started to rise. It was such a hopeful, cheerful scene compared to the drab, grey hospital in which I resided.
 
"I WON'T GO! NO! NO! LET ME--"
Someone had had some kind of mental breakdown, and from what I could hear, was being dragged against her will to the padded room. As if we weren't fucked up enough. They go and throw us in a tiny cell, alone with ourselves and the demons that we could never get rid of.
Clank.
The heavy door of the padded cell slammed shut, drowning out the girl's shrieks.
I remember screaming like her, crying and wailing till I was sure my throat was bleeding.
I remember it all too clearly.
"Thames, your sister. She's gone."
The five words that changed my life forever. Those words drained me of all I had. Now I was just the shell of Thames.
I killed Shane.
No, no. Not physically. You think I'm that crazy?
No, it's my fault that Shane offed herself.
And all those times I contemplate taking one of those plastic knives at lunch time?
That's for Shane.
I deserve to hurt, just like she did.
When I cry, I cry for Shane.
 
The stark white of the fluorescent lights above my bed interrupted my thoughts.
"Time for your medication, Mister,"
the nurse droned.
I stifled a laugh as I had done every morning.
And every afternoon.
And every night.
She rolled her eyes, dropping a couple of pills into my open palm, and handing me a glass of water.
After swallowing, I opened my mouth and tilted my chin back to show her that I had indeed taken my medication, just as I did every morning.
And every afternoon.
And every night.
 
After the nurse shut my bedroom door behind her, I threw my blanket off and stretched.
 
Once again, screams that sounded like nothing a human being could produce flooded my ears.
The sounds of the looney bin no longer frightened me.
The clanking doors, the sobbing, the constant mumbling to no one in particular.
You could almost say that they were comforting, like a childhood lullaby.
 
I stared at myself in the dull, scratched mirror that was securely fastened to my wall.
My eyes were so vacant.
I was staring at a corpse.
A lifeless body, half-decayed flesh being consumed by greedy, wriggling maggots.
I grinned, my pale lips parting as I laughed.
"I'll see you soon Shane," I mumbled to myself.
Just I had every single morning.
And afternoon.
And night.

I love you all <3

The last time I had seen Zara was still vivid and clear in my mind, as crisp as that fall morning that we had parted ways.
Pinky promises can only go so far when you are suddenly thrown out into the real world, forced to learn to completely fend for yourself.
I had since gotten my own place-paid for by a bit of the money my mother left me, it was small and modest, a bit drafty on colder days.
But it was mine. I set my own rules, I broke my own rules. I had no one to answer to but myself.
Scattered about on various shelves and rickety little tables were polaroids in mismatched frames. Photos that captured so many smiles and laughs of my classmates and I at Briar's.
There was always one photograph that would tug at my heart, though I saw it everyday.
Tesla had taken it, I remember, because she grabbed the camera from Kent, and without much warning turned to Zara and I and snapped the picture.
It was completely candid, it was so raw and real.
Zara and I were lying on the grass, hands clasped, our tangled hair spread beneath us.
On our faces were the biggest, most adoring smiles. The edges of the picture were blurred. We had been so excited to see how it would turn out, we shook it and shook it until it developed.
I don't recall what we had been talking about when Tesla surprised us, but Zara had always managed to make me smile with very little effort.
Sometimes, when it was especially cold and dreary, I would just stay in, huddled underneath an old quilt, thinking of all the moments Zara and I had shared.
She had come out of nowhere when I needed someone the most. She showed me beautiful things that I never knew existed.
How the fuck could we just let something like this go, without a fight or even a proper goodbye?
This morning, as the rain pounded on my window harder than ever, I looked at that photo again.
I wanted to feel those feelings again.
I was not letting her go.
 
I quickly ran to my room, bundling myself up in layers of warm clothes, and stepped outside, bracing myself as the icy rain hit my cheeks.
The wind blew so hard that I struggled to shut the heavy wooden door of my apartment, but I refused to let this girl go.
 
An hour and a half later, I found myself standing at Zara's door, sopping wet and more terrified than I had ever been.
Shaking, I knocked twice.
My heart pounded hard against my ribs, almost rivaling the boom of my fist against the door.
I held my breath, waiting to hear footsteps, voices--anything. I wanted to soak in every single part of Zara that I had loved so much.
"Fuck. I'm coming. I'm coming."
It was her.
It was my Zara.
She opened the door, her hair tousled and messy, her tiny hands stained with paint.
Just like they had always been.
I think it took her a moment for it to register that I was standing there, right there. Right in front of her.
Her eyes widened and she dropped the steaming cup of tea that she had been holding.
I didn't care. I pulled her into my arms, soaking her in the process.
She didn't care. I felt her sobbing uncontrollably.
I don't know how long we stood there, in her doorway, both drenched with rain and tea and paint and tears.
But it finally felt right again.
 
--Helena

Because I love you.

This is for you. Specifically for YOU. Because I love you, and these things just remind me of you.

AKA underthesun
 
This is for you, because I love you. It's my first set in a while. Please understand that it is shitty not because I don't love you, but because I suck at making sets.

For inspiration.
Hopping in the shower, then an all-night Poly session with my favorite girls<3

Ignore :)

I feel like making some real good sets tonight...but I have NO inspiration. I'm going to eat dinner right now, and when I get back I'll answer my PMs, and maybe someone can give me some kind of inspiration! I love you guys.
OH, and, I noticed some pictures clipped from my tumblr. It's so flattering, keep it up :)