god bless the girls who smile and hug when they're called out at a runner up on tv. i wish i could but i just can't wear a smile when a smile ain't what i'm feelin'. birdie g.k. current feminist. future president.
He used to hate coming back to the Academy after breaks, feeling like it was another kind of prison set up by his father. Daniel used to dread the flight, wanting nothing more than to do something else– anything else– that didn’t feel so stifling. But now, he enjoyed it, and even looked forward to it when he was away. Perhaps it was the presence of his friends, or being away from his father, or something else entirely. Whatever it was, Daniel was glad. The entire time he was home, all he thought about and hoped for was the beginning of the new school year, and being back on the academy grounds.
He was in the cafeteria, tray in hand, eyes scanning the choices of dessert they had for the evening. Daniel liked his sweets, and had sent a text to both Florian and Vera to meet him for some dessert. As of the moment, however, they were nowhere to be found, and Daniel wasn’t about to wait until the selection of desserts were too few to order. For such an expensive looking cafeteria, they always run out of desserts too quickly. He decided on the chocolate cake, and by the looks of it, it was the last solitary piece. “Hope you weren’t eyeing for the same thing,” he said to the person next to him in the line, as the lady behind the counter gave him the last slice. He said a quick thank you and flashed her one of his smiles, before turning to look at the other person. “Or if it is, then I don’t mind sharing.”
whoever decided the dining hall wasn’t to close was a genius. in birdie’s eyes, they deserved a nobel prize. truly inspired. late night snack runs were a brilliant part of coming back to campus. phone in hand, she had marched her way towards the dining hall, craving something painfully sweet. were her mother to know, she’d have her hide. good thing, one, her mother wasn’t here, and, two, birdie wouldn’t’ve even cared if she was.
she saw the chocolate cake the moment he did, but she wasn’t reaching for it. “ it’s all yours, ” she drawled with a wave of her hand. her eyes skimmed over the rest of the offerings and she couldn’t help but huff before her lips pursed. “ i’ve been suggestin’ they make pecan pie since i started here and they still haven’t taken it up, ” she shook her head before reaching for a bowl of vanilla pudding. “ every time i know it won’t be as good as my nana’s and still every time i find myself disappointed. maybe you’re wise in goin’ for the cake. ain’t no hopes to be dashed there. ”
date: september 13, 2019
time: 9:14 PM
availability: open !
the sun has set over astor academy and its grounds, but students still flocked outside, enjoying the last remnants of summer’s warmth. they chattered under the lights that lit up the school walkways. some had found comfort on the grass — birdie klein was one of those people. a red gingham blanket was spread out, and she was lying on top of it. strappy sandals laid beside her, and she looked up at the stars, her hands behind her head. to the person closest — “ i’m just sayin’, my mama loves livin’ in big city so much, but you can’t get a view like this anywhere else. ” she took a deep breath in, exhaling loudly. “ i ain’t gonna say i won’t move to new york city one day, but for now ? i love being at school, i love seeing the stars and the moon. ”
hello, official introduction time. my name is, i’m twenty-two, and i’m currently wasting a lot of time playing animal crossing. don’t ask me how much. it’s a lot of time. a lot.
anywho, this, my dear friends, is beatrice rose galloway-klein. her mama is the only one who uses her full name because most people just call her birdie ( much to her mama’s chagrin ), and some call her gallo, but only if they’re feeling frisky. she’s aiming to be the president of the united states one day, and honestly ? she could get there. but for now, she’s only twenty. she’s escaped from southern belle hell but the accent and taste for pecan pie hasn’t left her. she has a drawl thicker than fog in the spring, and she could charm the birds out of trees. currently, she’s a part of house machiavelli, and she’s studying political science and political theory. honestly, she’s just a delight, and i’m peachy keen to start plotting with everyone !
below the cut is a full bio & ideas for plotting.
Blurb:
A firecracker. A fur coat draped over her shoulders as she lounges on the couch. She’s smarter than she seems, watching and waiting, thirsting for secrets. She drinks pink wine from a bottle, and she’s waiting for a chance to wear a crown on her head.
Backstory:
You are a beauty queen failure much to your mama’s chagrin but her words can’t hurt you because you are untouchable. Bold and brazen, nothing can bring you down. It’s funny. You should have been soft and demure, but you are anything but. You walk into a room and eyes are on you. That’s how it’s meant to be. One day, eyes will be on you, and everyone will listen. You can imagine it all too well. You are going to be something and damn anyone who thinks they can get in your way.
History:
Birdie Klein is born in the high heat of summer in southern Alabama to a beauty queen and the state governor. She is a fussy thing, yelling and never settling down. Her parents adore her, though, for completely different reasons. Her mama sees good cheekbones and pageants in her future, while her daddy sees her as something to love and adore. It is clear who her favorite parent would be from the beginning.
The house she grows up in --- the manor --- is too big for a child. The walls are tall and the windows go from the floor to the ceiling. she gets lost in the curtains between masses of fabric. there is art on the wall, photographs and paintings. she is told from the beginning: look, don’t touch. That's her whole childhood, mottos like that. sit, stay still. walk, don’t run. it is stifling. She is tied up in ribbons and taffeta and she hates it. she stares out the window, longingly towards the trees in the yard. The respite in her life is trips to her grandmother’s. Birdie runs free through the orchard, skinning her knees and scraping her palms. It's a little bit of normalcy. but she always has to return to that too-big house. it’s filled with more people who aren’t family than those who are. there are chefs and maids and butlers and nannies and tutors. Birdie knows them all by name. They take care of her more than her parents. they deal with the tantrums and fits.
She is eight when she steps into her first private school. She does well enough in classes ( her reports home constantly say that she would do better if she only applied herself ) and she thrives surrounded by her peers. she does what’s expected of her, but really nothing more. she has her passions and throws herself into them, of course. feminism. women’s studies. suffrage. Little else really stimulates her. She does well on debate team --- she can talk and argue like no one else --- and she plays field hockey for the school team.
She realizes just how much money her family has one day when she is talking to a ( gasp ) scholarship student at her school. She talks about flights on her daddy’s jet and vacations in majorca. She mentions her nanny and tutor and how they were replaced when she said she didn’t like them. She talks about christmas and how her wardrobe is completely replaced. She doesn’t realize when the other student falls silent, feeling awkward and out of place. Finally, she is hit with the knowledge that not everyone has what she does. She carefully tries not to flaunt her wealth after that, but sometimes it’s hard. She wears clothes that are worth more than some people’s entire. The names of brands that fall from her lips come easy. she knows her wealth can be … overwhelming … but she isn’t mad about it. She likes the life she has.
Birdie is fifteen when she realizes she wants to be just like her daddy. He is in politics, she wants to do the same. They definitely do not have the same ideas. She’s liberal as can be, he’s more moderate. She wants change. He tells her it takes time. she wants it now. During her high school summers, she goes to D.C. and works as an intern in a congresswoman’s office. She doesn’t do much more than make copies, send faxes, and get coffee, but she’s in the room where it happens. She is seeing how the world works and how real change gets made. she tells herself one day she’ll work in one of these offices still. Of course, when that happens, her name will be on the door. It will be her office. It will be her changes that are being made.
She gets into Astor with no trouble. It’s her dream school. She’s going to become something there, surely. How could she not ?
Connection Ideas
and they were roommates ( oh my god, they were roommates ): listen give me a machiavelli for her to share a room with. if they’re on good terms, think of it as a long sleepover. birdie loves to gossip. she paints her toes cherry red, and she’ll paint her roommates’, too, if they’re nice. she’ll chit chat and charm their way into their heart quick as a whip. OF COURSE, they could find birdie annoying. if that’s the case, consider this: birdie’ll try to kill ‘em with kindness and a ton of ‘ bless your heart ‘s. /// OPEN
for the love of appearances : consider this: birdie, proud, in heels that would make her mama’s heart stop, you by her side, looking just as good. a relationship for the image, nothing more. maybe behind closed doors, they bicker like hell and they hate each other. maybe they’re friends. who’s to say .we can definitely play around. there are a lot of options and variables. /// OPEN
hook up hell : listen, birdie loves her appearance. hook ups ? don’t look good for a politician. but they’re fun as hell, and who’s to say a girl can’t enjoy herself every once in a while ? i imagine birdie has joked about making her hook ups sign a non-disclosure agreement before. she was also probably only half kidding. also we can decide if there are real feelings ????? if there’s angst ??????????? love angst here. /// OPEN
friends : okay so birdie is a firecracker, super sociable, super fun ( with limits tho let’s be real -- a politician can have nO SKELETONS IN HER CLOSET ). she’s got a cherry red convertible, a credit card with no limit ---- she likes impressing her friends. i’m not saying she buys her friends, but if the shoe fits ..... /// OPEN
rich bitch friends : birdie’s something of a socialite slash heiress slash really doesn’t ever need to work if she didn’t want to sort of person ?? i imagine she grew up around a lot of people in similar positions ???? so like childhood friends ????? not close, but forced together by obligation ?????? we can EXPLORE /// OPEN
idk my bff jill : listen, birdie needs at least one real friend, someone who sees her beyond the red lipstick and cat-eye mascara. they take away the charm and the southern drawl and they see someone who’s scared of not reaching their goals, who’s scared of losing their mama entirely, someone who just wants to be liked. /// CLOSED to ESTELLA
enemies : c’mon someone must have to not like birdie, i’m sorry, it’s true. there are so many possibilities. maybe birdie’s ambition rubs them the wrong way. maybe birdie is just .... too much. maybe they don’t like her wealth. a loooooot of options. /// OPEN
“You looked around and suddenly, there was this dazzling creature looking like a wild-eyed doe prancing in the forest. Ah, that unique lady. She’s what the Latin calls sui generis. She’s the original, there are no more examples, and there never will be.”
—Billy Wilder on Audrey Hepburn during the filming of Love in the Afternoon (1957)
name: beatrice rose galloway-klein
nickname: birdie
age: twenty
birthday: february 13th, 1999
birthplace: paris, france
hometown: montgomery, alabama
spoken languages: english, french, italian
sexual orientation: pansexual
occupation: heiress
APPEARANCE
eye color: brown
hair color: brown
height: 5’8
scars: skinned knees
FAVOURITE
color: olive green and candy apple red
entertainment: movie nights, partying, dancing
pastime: reading, listening to music, going to rallies
drink: water, manhattans
book: romance novels
HAVE THEY
passed university: no, enrolled
had sex: yes
kissed a man: yes
kissed a woman: yes
gotten tattoos: no
gotten piercings: yes, her ears
had a broken heart: yes
been in love: yes
stayed up for more than 24 hours: more than once !
ARE THEY
a virgin: no
a cuddler: yes
a kisser: yes
a smoker: no
scared easily: yes
jealous easily: yes
trustworthy: yes, cross her heart and hope to die
FAMILY
sibling(s): none
parents: benjamin klein and ellery klein née galloway
children: no
pets: a siamese cat named quentin
the alabama sun is high in the sky and the heat rises off the black tar pavement in waves. birdie sits on the curb of the sidewalk, her knees tucked together, her feet askew on the ground. if her mama could see her now — the lord would hope to hear her prayer. her lips are cherry red and her tongue darts out of her mouth to take long swipes at the ice pop in her hand. the popsicle is half-melted, its juice running down her hand in sticky pink lines. she looks a mess — except, really, she doesn’t. she looks like she’s happy more than anything else.
“ i’m just sayin’, babydoll, it’s gonna be a fun time, but you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. ” the inflection of her voice rises at the end. her tone is condescending ; her tone is challenging. she doesn’t mean it to be. it’s just how she talks.
her friend kiersten stands in front of her rocking backwards on her heels, her hands tucked in the pocket of her jumper.. “ bird, i just — it ain’t you. you know i’d follow you to the end of the world, but word has it cameron is gonna be there and i don’t think he’d take too kindly to seein’ me there. ”
there’s a glint in birdie’s eye. “ why not ? you’ve done nothing wrong. “
kiersten shakes her head. “ he’s still mad about me standing him up and i know — “
“ he’s a dirty cheating jerk who deserved what he got. tell me i’m wrong. ” she’s stood up at this point, dropping the popsicle stick to the ground. her thighs have tiny pieces of gravel sticking to the backs of them. “ c’mon, tell me i’m wrong. “ she folds her arms across her chest
“ i can’t. “
“ then we’re gonna march in there arm in arm, dance the night away, and show him what he’s missing. you weren’t crowned miss blue bonnet over me for nothing, “ she shoots a wink at her friend before reaching a hand out. she laces their fingers together, her skin still sticky. “ i told you this summer is about you. ain’t no dumb boy gonna mess this up for us. “
finally, a small smile rises to kiersten’s face. “ just for you, bird. ”
hand in hand, they walk inside. they have a party to get ready for.
—
the party should be fun. the two-story mansion is lit up bright white and they can feel the ground shaking from the vibration of the music the moment they turn onto the drive. there’s a ferrari parked out front and a couple is making out on the hood of a porsche behind it. inside, bodies are everywhere. it’s obscene the amount of kids there. there’s art on the wall, priceless and precious, and statues of marble and porcelain lining the halls. the kids there themselves are modern art. they’re in perfectly-tailored clothing ; their make-up costs thousands. glitter on eyes and cheeks sparkles under the light. corners of lips are upturned. heels of louboutins and leather shoes hit the tile with a resonating sound. people are dancing, people are talking. somewhere in the back, people are snorting white powder with a one hundred dollar bill and a black card.
this is the sort of place birdie normally thrives, but the party does not end up being fun.
it’s a quarter past midnight and — at this point — birdie is fed up. she’s angry and drunk but mostly she’s angry. kiersten is tucked under her arm, crying, and she’s whispering soft words in her friend’s ear to try and ease her tears. she can’t believe how the night turned out. they were having fun ; they were dancing and singing along to the music, losing themselves to the music. it was fun and distracting — just what the pair needed to enjoy themselves. of course, it was, just up until a boy bumped into the pair on purpose. he coughed “ slut “ at kiersten before bursting into laughter and walking away.
birdie saw red. she is still seeing red, but her first priority is calming her friend down. it takes a few minutes, and another shot tipped back through her tears, but finally kiersten’s shoulders stop shaking and her breathing evens.
“ did you know him ? ”
with a sniffle, kiersten replies in the affirmative. he’s a friend of cameron’s.
“ i’ll be right back. “
she grabs two martini glasses, one in each hand, off of the tray someone is holding. she brings one to her lips, tipping it back quickly. it’s a little mental reassurance. she looks down at the second, nods to herself, and grabs another before she walks to the other side of the room where a group of boys are standing. they see her approach and they start laughing. this only fuels the flame in her.
“ cameron ? ” her head tilts to the side, an easy smile playing on her lips.
one of the group nods. “ that’s me. what’s it to you ? ”
she takes a step closer, her voice is a coo. “ i just want to give you something. ”
he looks to his friends and laughs again. “ yeah ? what is it ? ”
she closes the gap between them, and leans in close. then, she tips the first martini glass over his head. “ that’s for kiersten. ”
he shouts as she pops the olive out of second glass and into her mouth. she chews it briefly before dumping the second on him. “ that’s because i felt like it. ”
he’s cursing and yelling obscenities at her. he screams about a drycleaning bill for a cashmere sweater. someone mentions that the carpet’s going to stain. it doesn’t matter, though. birdie turned on her heels, her chin raised high. she walks back over to kiersten whose eyes are wide.
