O'REILLY, bridget abigail

[bridget]

VALKYRIE,
CALIFORNIA

[/color]
the ocean breathes salty, won't you carry it in?




she sang the blues, out of time and out of tune
spoke no silver spoon, only simple truth[/font][/center]


WHEN THE OCEAN MET THE SKY ,[/color]
CHARACTER BASICS ,
you missed when time and life shook hands and said goodbye[/color]

FULL NAME: bridget abigail o'reilly.
NICKNAMES: bee.
GENDER: female.
AGE: nineteen.
GRADE: university student - freshman.
ART INTEREST: academics.
PLAYBY: keira knightley.

[/font]


YOUR BODY MAY BE GONE ,[/color]
CHARACTER APPEARANCE ,
i'm gonna carry you in my head, in my heart, in my soul[/color]

ETHNICITY: technically speaking, she should have hairy armpits and a serious drinking problem. ...you're probably giving your computer screen a funny look, aren't you? well, ha. her parents both grew up their whole lives in France until they immigrated on over to the homeland when Bridget was about three years old. her mother is entirely French; her father, on the other hand, is entirely Irish [….but he grew up in France]. fun combination, no?
HAIR COLOR: naturally, bridget's hair is a light brownish color. ...she keeps it that way.
EYE COLOR: her eyes are a fantastically boring shade of brown. they're lovely, none the less.
HEIGHT: 5'5 ½”.
WEIGHT: 120.
BODY TYPE: “comparable to that of a pubescent thirteen year old boy.” her words, not mine.
DISTINGUISHED FEATURES: “i have a gnarly scar on my left arm. wha?- where did i get it? a bear attacked me, obviously. no tattoos yet, although i'd like one. also, my nose and eyebrow and nipples! are pierced.” …a bear didn't really attack bridget o'reilly, although her four and a half inch long, fourth of an inch wide, very pink, and very scary-looking scar makes the story seem believable. it was really just a generally speaking completely not-traumatic-even-a-little-bit bicycling accident.
PERSONAL STYLE: “...i wouldn't know style if it ran me over in the form of a big yellow school bus full of screaming children.” this is true, you know. bridget really doesn't do the whole clothes thing. you probably wouldn't guess it because her very non-committal, passive relationship with clothing items somehow translates into her being a “hipster”, if you will, but seriously? she finds clothes from her floor and throws them on and leaves her room, not giving a shit whether or not the patterns clash or if the belt she's wearing is too baggy or if her shoes match her headband or any of that shit. she doens't care if she looks good. But she's not a sloth or anything, and if she sees some sort of clothing item she likes when she's forced to go shopping, she'll buy it. the sort of clothes she likes are generally considered “indie” by the general public.
OTHER: -

[/font]


IN YOUR MOUTH, IN YOUR SOUL ,[/color]
CHARACTER PERSONALITY ,
the more we move ahead the more we're stuck in rewind[/color]

STRENGTHS: fiercely loyal, happy, funny,
WEAKNESSES: cute boys who sweet talk her, ice cream, alcohol,
LIKES: music, dancing, her family, reading, pretty-looking boys, being outside, getting letters, silly things, daisies and sunflowers, happy people, summer time,
DISLIKES: annoyingly religious people, annoyingly anti-god people, annoying people in general, people who don't have open minds, being late [and by extension, people who are late], people who have terrible taste in music, girly-girls, manly-men, pig-headed assholes, bullies, complainers, grammatical errors, president bush, the war, sand,
FLAWS: hypocritical, doesn't care, reckless, perfectionist, impatient, stubborn, argumentative, disagreeable, no mouth filter,
HABITS: bored hair twirling or foot-tapping, scared or nervous beatles song-singing, the occasional random dance move in hallways in order to entertain herself, obsessive nail-biting,
SECRETS: she has really horrifying nightmares almost all the time,
BEST MEMORY: him asking,
WORST MEMORY: him leaving,
OVERALL PERSONALITY: okay, seriously? she's just downright confusing. which is obviously problematic. she's spontaneous and reckless but at the same time she likes things well-planned and thought-out. she's a people-pleaser, sure, but she doesn't really care what people think of her, but at the same time, she cares a lot. she hates waiting around but sometimes she'll just stop caring and she'll stop thinking about how treacherous waiting is and she'll think about other things and get lost in her thoughts and not care a little bit if you're a four hours late for hanging out with her. sometimes she sees a spider and screams; others, she'll try to catch it and let it crawl around on her skin. you see, with bridget, it just really depends on the situation.

bridget is a good friend. she's loyal to the people she loves and would never, ever, ever do anything to betray them. she doesn't tell people's secrets and has a tendency to get really annoyed if people try to weasel information out of her. she really doesn't appreciate it when people backstab her and trust me, this girl can hold one hell of a grudge. she has serious trust issues with people, so once you betray her trust, you're done. simple as that. she doesn't dopple around much with silly drama. it's just done. she worries a lot about her friends because they're in college for christ's sake and who knows the shit they could get into and she doesn't want anyone to get hurt. if a friend ever needed anything from her, she'd do it. anything. she's kind toward people she doesn't know [normally. there are a few exceptions, such as any case during which someone is being an idiotic douchenozzle, then she's not so nice] and is always willing to help people she sees who need help. it's a remarkable trait, really. she's the sort of person who'd walk up to anyone and say something if need be, and she's very charismatic and friendly and she just has an effect on people so whenever she does that sort of thing, it's not awkward or tense at all. she's maternal and likes taking care of people and cleaning up people's messes, even though her own space is a complete disaster area.

she appreciates the little things. you put her in the passenger seat of a car and tell her she's in for a twenty hour car ride, she'd probably smile and and nod and say, "all right, sounds good." she's okay with spending time with her thoughts, and trust me, she's got a lot of them. she has a bit of a tendency to ramble and use big words and over-think everything, although occasionally she does things without thinking at all and she's a bit headstrong. although she'd never admit it, she has issues getting close with people and likes putting people at a distance, and if anyone ever gets too close to her she'll do something stupid or mean to make them feel further away. she's a bit flirty, but it's unintentional flirting because generally speaking when it comes to boys she's clueless - not like it matters, though, because she's still a bit in love with a certain someone - and her snarky, witty remarks generally come across as being flirty but really she's not interested at all, which is unfortunate because then it seems like she's playing hard to get which will, in return, make it considerably more difficult for certain men to stay away because she is just the kind of girl they like.

she's got a remarkable sense of humor, if you must know, and she's sharp and quick and intelligent and it she really wanted to, she could have you on the floor rolling around crying because of something she said. again, even though she'd never admit it, she's an attention whore, which is funny because she's quite independent and almost introverted but really? she likes the attention just as much as any girl. she's certainly not shy, although she can come across that way because, you know, depending on who you are, if you talk to her, she might not exactly be ecstatic and bouncy and happy. she's a dreamer. there are a lot of things this girl wants to do with her life, most of them no one really knows about, but still, they're there, and they're big.

bridget is quite intelligent and she has a great memory, but she's lazy. she could have probably been her high school valdevictorian if only she had put more effort into her school work, but unfortunately, her generally passive nature puts in a bit of a road block. now that she's at valkyrie she tries a bit harder because she doesn't want to completely throw her parent's money away, but still, there's definitely more room in there for effort. she spends a lot of her free time doing anything but studying. countless hours are spent outside or in the library reading completely irrelevant books or in the dance studio or just hanging out with her friends in the dorms. it isn't to her advantage that she procrastinates and she's really unorganized.

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AND WE'LL BOTH GROW OLD ,[/color]
CHARACTER HISTORY ,
well i don't know, i don't know, i don't know, i hope so[/color]

HOMETOWN: she was born in savannah, georgia. eventually they moved to new york city, new york.
PARENTS: danielle amélie laurent, forty nine, fashion designer for giorgio armani; kieran jack o'reilly, fifty, stock broker.
SIBLINGS: adam jonathan o'reilly, twenty two; amelia siobhan o'reilly, sixteen.
OTHER: dallas gregory johnson, twenty two.
LIVING SITUATION: dorm.
HISTORY: she was born the second child to danielle and kieran o'reilly, and she was certainly much more of a handful than her older brother, who was considerably more mellow and happy than little bridget. bridget was a firecracker from the start, making it known quite quickly what she wanted and how much she wanted it. adam and bridget got along relatively well as they grew older, although adam would get jealous of bridget and he'd take her toys which was bad news bears because then bridget would start crying and well, you know how it goes. three and a half years later amelia was born, and by the bridget had taken a chillpill [or fifteen] and she was a relatively well-behaved toddler. she had a happy disposition and was the sort of kid who could probably be kidnapped by some stranger and sit back and grin and giggle as if nothing was wrong because she really liked people. bridget was rather excited about the new addition of amelia and jumped at any opportunity to help, which ended up being, on occasion, not help at all. the three siblings got older and grew up with a normal life. they lived comfortably. their father was gone a majority of the time doing business and their mom stayed at home. adam, bridget and amelia were immediately thrown into all sorts of lessons and things before they started first grade. for bridget, it was piano lessons and ballet lessons. she formed a love-hate relationship with both quite quickly.

elementary school was a normal experience for her. she had her friends, she had her enemies, she had all her crushes. she never had one of those playground-boyfriends, though, even though she was asked once or twice. she thought boys were icky, though, so of course she said no. middle school was a particularly awkward time for her because she and her family had just upped and moved from podunk little georgia to effing new york city [it was easier for her father and mother after a bit of a strained patch in their relationship during which it was revealed that her mother had been cheating on her husband because she thought he was cheating on her, which he wasn't, and it was also convenient because danielle didn't need to travel every weekend to go back to the city for work] and god forbid, rather than having boobs like everyone else on the god forsaken planet, if anything she had fucking indents, so, you know, of course she was a bit displeased and she tried her hand at stuffing herself once or twice which led to a few very embarrassing experiences during gym class, but we won't get into that. and as high school rolled along, she finally became comfortable with herself and she found her place in the theatre department. she had never really known before, but she was actually a rather talented singer, and so she tried out for the musical Oliver! at her school during her freshman year and to her surprise, she actually got a part as a lowly chorus member. it changed her life, though, and she became friends with the most accepting, outgoing and crazy people on the planet. she became best friends almost immediately with a boy named alex, who was very popular [and also gay], and she felt like she fit in. she kept dancing ballet, and during her sophomore year when musical rolled around, she actually chose not to do it because she was participating in the nutcracker at the new york city ballet. during her sophomore year she met dallas johnson. he asked her to be his girlfriend. she said yes. he was three years older than her, and that made her parents and older brother very paranoid since, you know, all boys want is action anyway, but they got over their worries when they found that dallas was actually a very respectable young man. she fell in love with him. meanwhile, her parents started pushing her to start thinking about what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. they were both very successful of course and they wanted the best for their daughter. she set her sights on harvard. it would be a dream come true. she pushed herself, sure, but not enough. she got busy with ballet and choir and piano and she had dallas and all sorts of other things, so studying became more and more difficult to do. there was actually a period that she got sick because she wasn't sleeping or eating very much.

the summer after sophomore year was a breather. there were a lot of books on her reading list for the summer, so she occupied herself with that when she wasn't dancing or spending time with her friends or dallas, who ever so intelligently decided to put off his college education - which he would have been getting at yale - for the marines. he was shipped off to boot camp at the end of the summer, and she was dealing with a sprained ankle, so the start to her junior year wasn't exactly peachy. she thought about dallas and missed him a lot, but without him around and without ballet practices to be at, she could focus on her studies more. so she did, and she propelled herself to the top of her class after filling up her schedule entirely with honors classes. her parents were, of course, ecstatic. her ankle healed up and she started up with ballet again, only she devoted less time to it because the musical that year was "Beauty and the Beast", one of her favorite disney movies of all time. she was cast as belle. this took her mind off of dallas, who she wrote basically every single day while he was in boot camp. she was stressed because of the long rehearsals and honors classes, so her grades slipped and she was no longer at the top of the class. strangely enough, she was okay with it. she was happy doing the musical, running around on stage singing about a poor provincial life and enchanted objects and is this home is this where i should learn to believe in blah blah blah, she loved it. she loved every bit of doing the musical, and she began to question whether or not she wanted to become a doctor because she loved musicals and everyone involved and she felt so much more comfortable with these people than she did with the people in her honors classes. musical wrapped up in the spring time and she could dance more frequently, and over the summer she started teaching classes to younger children at the new york city ballet. dallas came home and he was going to finally start college. she was happy. bridget was happy. senior year came along and she knew it was going to be great. sure, she'd signed up for way too many ap classes - literature, calculus bc, government, european history, and biology - but whatever, she would be fine. and she was. her schedule was exactly the same all year because her final class was chamber singers, the top, sixteen-member choir at the school. of course, there were a few weeks in there that she thought she was going to shoot herself, but if these classes got her into harvard, it was worth all the late nights and the worrying and the studying. she and dallas phoned a lot, and he'd help her study. he was only an hour and a half away so she'd drive to see him. the musical in her senior year was "Les Miserables"; she was cast as eponine. ballet was put to a stand still yet again for the four months she spent working on the production, the grades slipped their typical 5%, and once it ended, everything was back to normal. she graduated #16 in her class of 892 students. she didn't make it into harvard. she did, however, make it into valkyrie university, among others, and made the choice to enroll there.

in august, dallas was called to duty in afghanistan. they broke up. she loved him. still does. he still loves her too. they still write. it's not a very good situation. right now at valkyrie she's just trying to get her sea legs in the real world. i suppose we'll have to see how that works out.

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COLLECTED MY BELONGINGS ,[/color]
ABOUT YOU AND FOR THE ADMINS ,
and i left the jail, well thanks for the time[/color]

YOUR NAME: ellie.
GENDER: female.
AGE: eighteen.
RP EXPERIENCE: many years.
OTHER CHARACTERS: none here.
ROLEPLAY EXAMPLE: this is from a marauders-era harry potter website i rp at. sorry for the length.

and the grave that you refuse to leave
the refuge that you've built to flee,
the places that you've come to fear the most

[/b][/color][/left]

"Victoria, darling, sit up straight," Margaret tutted quietly, a pleasant smile across her lips as she stared down at her seven-year-old daughter. Tori looked up at her mother from across the table and immediately did as mother asked. She pushed her butt up against the back of the seat, put her shoulders back, straightened her back, and looked around the table, chin up. Her hands were folded neatly in her nap on top of the blood red dinner napkin, her legs crossed dainty at the ankles, angling off to the side as they dangled multiple inches above the marble floor. Her pa And that, ladies and gentleman, was proper posture. She nodded to her mother and looked down at the silver plate one of the servants had just placed in front of her. He waited behind her chair, arm elongated, fingers around the small silver knob on top of the lid, for the queue. This was how it was at the Macmillan Estate. Always. Whether or not there were fifty guests or just the family together, dinner was a big deal. She tilted her neck back and looked toward the other end of the dinner hall. All of the servants were doing the same as Tori's was. Waiting for the queue. The queue was a toast. Her father, sitting at the head of the table, would be giving it, obviously. He lifted his glass and began speaking, but Tori drowned him out. She looked around the room, eyes going in and out of focus. Gold adorned the necks and ears and fingers of the women in the room, diamonds sparkling and heavy silver and gold watches around the men's wrists reflected on the walls. She tilted her head back a little bit, staring at the pretty ceiling with wide-eyed wonder. It seemed so far away. Her head moved back down and she looked up and down the table, staring at the long line of all the different wine glasses and candle sticks and flower centerpieces. Tori's eyes wandered up to the faces of all their guests. She recognized a lot of them. The Blacks, the Malfoys, the Bingblotts, the Bulstrodes, the Macdougals, the Rosiers, everyone. All of them had their eyes on her father, all of them with smiles across their lips. All of the ladies were very pretty in their evening gowns and jewelry, with their hair up in elaborate knots and plaits with pretty, sparkly hair pieces. The men all looked the same, with their hair slicked back and their black tuxes and bow ties, and that pompous, proud look on their faces because they knew they were better than everyone else. As her eyes moved down the line, she saw Mr. and Mrs. Raisz. They didn't bring Sam with them. She frowned a little bit, wishing they had. She didn't understand why her parents insisted she and Charlie and Kitty come down for this fancy dinner party when there wouldn't be anyone else there her age. She'd rather be playing with her kitty or her new horse or her doll house. Practicing ballet sounded fun. Even playing the piano sounded fun! She wanted to have fun. She didn't want to eat dinner with all the old people! But mother always insisted, and so did father, because they believed their children were well-behaved enough to make a good impression on all of their friends. Besides, it was never too early to start thinking about betrothals, since it was necessary that Victoria marry a rich pureblood boy who'd be able to take care of her. Her mind strayed from the occurring happening in the dining hall, since they were oh-so-boring, and she thought instead about her Halloween spent with Samuel. They'd dressed up like people from the fifties for the costume party at the Raisz's Mansion and ended up spending most of the night talking about Hogwarts and how much fun they would have there. Tori couldn't wait to go to Hogwarts. She'd be sorted into Slytherin like mommy and daddy, and she'd meet all sorts of people and it would be fun. Unlike this dinner party. Hmpf. Tori's mother nudged her lightly with her elbow and Tori snapped out of it, turning up to her mother innocently. Her mother didn't say anything, she looked at Tori and then rather deliberately at her husband and then back at Tori. She knew. Turning her head, she looked at her father, who was just finishing up with his toast. Everyone around the table raised their champagne flutes and the sound of the glasses lightly tinkling filled the room. The servants who'd been standing behind the chairs of all the guests finally lifted the lids off the plates and Tori looked down at her meal. She didn't know what half of it was, but she lifted the proper cutlery and began cutting her meal, remembering to keep her elbows in like a proper lady. It was difficult and she was very hungry; she'd had a long day and hadn't eaten much because she was busy doing ballet most of the morning and then she came home and had to immediately have lessons with her tutor and then she had to get ready for this dinner party and there hadn't been much time in there for a snack. She began eating, and she ate quickly, until her mother looked down at her, scorning. "Victoria, please eat more like a lady. At the rate you're going, you're going to gain back all the calories you lost at ballet this morning."[/b]

...She didn't know what [/i]that meant, but it didn't sound good.

"We don't want you out-growing your entire wardrobe, now."

Too late for that, Margaret. Your daughter is already screwed. Your daughter has outgrown her wardrobe, Margaret. Your daughter has eaten too many calories, Margaret. Your daughter isn't working out enough, Margaret. Your daughter is the biggest disappointment of your life, Margaret. Your daughter is a fatass, Margaret. Your daughter isn't pretty, Margaret. Your daughter is never going to marry, Margaret. Your daughter is horrendous, Margaret. Your daughter is fat. Fat. Fat. Yes. That's right, Margaret. Your daughter is the laughing stock of the wizarding community because she's the ugliest, fattest damn disappointment you'd ever see. And she is pathetic, Margaret. Yeah, Maggie, your daughter is pathetic, blubbering on the floor in front of that toilet, thinking it could change her. Thinking that toilet was going to fix her, thinking if she could just throw up, she would be skinny. But no, Margaret, that wouldn't make her skinny, and not fast enough. Your poor, unfortunate daughter was disgusting. Victoria was disgusting.

Too late for that, Tori. You're already screwed. You outgrew your wardrobe, Tori. You ate too many calories, Tori. You're not working out enough, Tori. You're the biggest disappointment of your mother's life, Tori. You're a fatass, Tori. You're not pretty, Tori. You're never going to get married, Tori. You're horrendous, Tori. you're fat, Tori. Fat. Fat. Yes. That's right, Tori. You're the laughing stock of the wizarding community because you're the ugliest, fattest damn disappointment anyone's ever seen. And you're pathetic, Tori. Yeah, Tori, you're pathetic, blubbering on the floor in front of the toilet, thinking it could change you. Thinking that toilet'll fix you, thinking if you could just throw up, you'd be skinny. But no, Tori, that won't make you skinny, and not fast enough. You're poor, unfortunate, and disgusting. Disgusting.

Repulsive.

....Fat.

Her hands shaking, she reached down to her abdomen and felt her stomach with her hands. It was...squishy. Ha. That made sense. Because she was fat. So fat, in fact, that she couldn't even fit into that dress. That was supposed to fit her. But, you know, she was just so fucking fat that it didn't. She dug her nails into her skin and grabbed the fat, feeling it with her fingers, massaging it around. Mother fuck. She wanted to just...rip it off. And she didn't really know it, but her nails dug deeper and deeper into her skin and the skin broke and blood slowly ran down her pale skin, staining it red. She leaned up against the bathtub and sobbed. She just wanted it to go away. Her fat. No, not just her fat. Just...everything. She wanted to go to sleep and never wake up because what the fuck was the point anymore? Her parents hated her. Everyone at school hated her. She was a fat bitch. ...No. No. No. She sat up and looked at the toilet bowl and before she even knew it, she was shoving her fingers down her throat because she had to do this. She had to be pretty, she had to be skinny again, she had to make her mother and father proud of her for once in her life, and even if that meant she had to make herself throw up, she'd do it. It wasn't even that big of a deal. It was just throwing up. She just...she just couldn't get it. She pulled her fingers back out of her mouth. Merlin, this shouldn't be that hard. It wasn't like she was cutting herself or something. No one would ever know, either. She could just eat and excuse herself to go to the bathroom and throw up and then be on her merry way, and no one would have a fucking clue and she'd be beautiful and her mother would be proud of her and everything would be great. She wouldn't be squishy and fat, she wouldn't have all those disgusting rolls, those stretch marks that adorned her hips and inner thighs would disappear and she would be perfect. Just like she was supposed to be. Just like it was intended. She was a Macmillan, she was a pureblood, she was wealthy, she had to be perfect and that wasn't possible if she was running around with twenty extra pounds on her body. She just wanted to be pretty. That was all she ever wanted. She just wanted to be beautiful. She wanted to fit in her dresses. She wanted to fit into a size zero, not a size three. Size three was just massive. She wanted to be like all the other skinny girls. She didn't want this body. She didn't want to look like she was pregnant. She didn't want to be as atrociously ugly as she was. She didn't want those big eyes, she didn't want that fat waist, she didn't want those too-big hips, she didn't want her pointed nose or her little ears or her funny-shaped fingers or her terrible nailbeds or her huge pores or her disgusting butt or her chunky legs or her fat abdomen or her long dark hair or her too thick eyebrows or her anything, she just didn't want to be, she didn't want anything at all, she wished it would all just go away and she wished she could sleep forever and she wished she was skinny because that was all she wanted, she just wanted to be pretty and she just wanted her mother to love her and she just wanted to be loved and she knew the only way her mother would ever love her was if she was beautiful, which she wasn't, so she was basically screwed for life, and she just didn't want to be there right now. She didn't want to be at that wedding, in the bathroom, in the suite she was sharing with Imogen, who hated her, who was much more beautiful than she was, who was much skinnier and much smarter and much more appealing and much much much more beautiful. She wished she could just curl up in a ball and make everything go away. She didn't want to be hideous anymore. Skinny. Skinny. Skinny. Beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful. Skinny and beautiful. Fat and ugly. Skinny and beautiful. Fat and beautiful? No. Skinny and beautiful.

Everything she wasn't. [/blockquote][/color]

buried deep as you can dig inside yourself
and hidden in the public eye
such a stellar monument to loneliness

[/b][/color][/left]

"Victoria, sweetie, that dress simply doesn't fit you anymore. You've gained too much weight." She looked up at her mother, confused. "But mommy," she began, but Margaret cut her off. "Victoria," she said sternly, "you're too fat for that dress. The zipper isn't coming up. You'll have to choose something else." But she didn't

[/i]want to wear anything else. She wanted to wear that dress. It was her favorite dress, after all, and she'd worn it so many times before. She didn't understand. She didn't understand how the dress could fit her seven and six year old body and not her eight year old body. She didn't understand why she couldn't wear this dress the Christmas Party. And she wanted to cry. Tori wanted to cry. She loved that dress. But she was too fat for it. Mommy always talked about how she didn't want Tori to be fat, so that was why Tori was only allowed to eat a certain amount of food during the day and that was why she was supposed to go to ballet lessons for three and a half hours every day and that was why mommy hated her sister so much, because her sister had gotten fat after having all of Tori's cousins. Tori didn't want mommy to hate her. ...But if Tori was fat, didn't that mean mommy hated her? Tears streaming to her bright blue eyes, Tori turned and tore away from the closet and ran back into her bedroom and crawled onto her bed, hiding beneath the sheets. She laid on her bed with her belly down, legs curled up underneath her body. They smelled like peppermint. She heard her mommy and her daddy talking in the closet. Mommy sounded mad. Daddy sounded like he wished he wasn't there. And then there was the sound of footsteps and they came closer and closer and Tori pulled the ends of the sheets closer to her body and planted her face into the pillow. She didn't want anyone to see her when she was crying. She didn't like when that happened. The footsteps stopped and she felt pressure on her bed, and she took a deep breath. "Victoria. We can go out and buy you a new dress." It was her father's voice. She liked her daddy more than she liked her mommy. He just wasn't around very much. Tori didn't reply for a moment. She just laid there, underneath her sheets, because she felt safe. But after a moment her father touched her gently on her back and Tori slowly sat up, and the sheets fell off her back as she did so. She turned and looked at her father and nodded. Her face was wet from tears.

But her father never told her she was beautiful. All the extravagant parties she'd been to, all the times she'd dressed up and looked nice, and even the times when she was walking around the house in sweatpants and no makeup and she'd passed him in the hallways, he'd never said squat about her being beautiful. Maybe that was all she wanted. Maybe all she wanted this whole time was just for her father to tell her she was beautiful, but he certainly wasn't going to be doing that any time soon because she was too fat to be beautiful, but maybe when she was skinny he would. ...Weren't fathers supposed to tell their daughters that they're beautiful, or was that some sort of fucked up excuse she'd made up long ago so she'd feel sorry for herself? She wouldn't be surprised. ...But she also wouldn't be surprised if Imogen's father told her she was beautiful. Because Imogen was. Imogen was much prettier than Tori, and much nicer. Yeah. Tori was a bitch. She knew it. Wow, she was good at the whole self-realization thing today, wasn't she? She also realized how much she needed their love. She had let herself go and she let herself go hard because she had somehow gotten to disgustingly and oh Merlin she had to try again, she just had to try again because she needed this more than anything, she needed their approval, she needed smiles and she needed pride and she needed love and she needed to be skinny so she had to try again and so she lifted her hand to her mouth and put her fingers in and Merlin she tried but she couldn't, she was scared, she was scared like she always was and she was going to make this work. People did this all the time, she was an entirely normal occurrence, so she knew it couldn't be that bad. And she could still feel those rolls of fat down her side and she knew if only she could do this, she could make those rolls disappear and she could be beautiful and wanted because all she wanted was to be wanted and she wanted to be loved and she wanted to be beautiful. She wanted to be beautiful like her mother and her grandmother and even her little sister who was already beautiful even though she was ten and everyone was fucking pining over her and not paying any attention at all to Tori, the ugly one, she one who surely brought nothing but shame to the family because she wasn't skinny enough or perfect enough or nice enough or charming enough or good enough with the other pureblood families. She put her fingers back and closed her eyes hard, feeling the hot tears run down her face and sting, but she didn't feel the sting because she didn't feel anything anymore because all she wanted was to be beautiful and she knew she was rapidly disintegrating but who the fuck gave a shit? No one. No one gave a shit about her, no one would even care if she ran away or died or anything because no one liked her because she was a bitchy, ugly, mean girl. Also, fat. And you couldn't be fat in this society. You couldn't fucking go out in public if your dress even puckered a little bit and oh, her dress didn't even fucking fit, so that was "This zipper isn't going up, Victoria. Have you put on any weight?" that was what she needed. And this time she would do it. And...she...Merlin, fuck, she got it, but what was that noise? ...No, that didn't matter. Because she had thrown up. She could see some of it in the toilet, even though everything was all fuzzy and her eyes hurt and her face hurt and her nose was sniffly and whenever she cried this hard she felt like throwing up anyway and she could taste it in her mouth, what a nasty taste, but that didn't matter because she got it.

She got it.

She got a little bit of it out but -

She coughed and gagged on her own barf. Jesus. That was nasty. But it was worth it. And suddenly she felt nauseous and she hated feeling nausesous and she thought of the look on her mother's perfect face just a while ago and the she could just see the disappointment and she really wanted to fall asleep and never wake up right then because she didn't want to go to the stupid dinner and have people see her in her nasty dress that didn't fit her nasty body. But then she heard the noise again, and her hearing was really weird again and it sounded like she was underwater and mother f**k*r her head hurt but that didn't matter because maybe she'd pass out again and just not wake up because she really did not want to wake up. Was that Imogen? Oh, mother f**k*r. It was Imogen. The bitch had come back. What the fuck did she want? To laugh at her, probably. Because she was fatter than Imogen, and that's what girls did. They laughed at the fatter girls because girls were all bitches and Tori was very clearly fatter than perfect Imogen because Imogen was beautiful and she didn't have her mother telling her how disgusting she was daily, and maybe her dad told her she was beautiful, and that was why Imogen wasn't the one with red eyes and red cheeks and a runny nose and a horrible headache and a nauseous feeling. Because Imogen was beautiful, she didn't need to make herself throw up because she was already skinny enough. And then the door opened and Tori slid closer to the bathtub away from the door and away from Imogen because Imogen would not make this situation any better and Tori did not like people seeing her cry, especially when she didn't like the person in the first place and Imogen was not the sort of person Tori liked.
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laced with brilliant smiles and shining eyes
perfect make-up, but you're barely scraping by
but you're barely scraping by

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...Especially in this sort of situation. Because she was falling apart. Right in front of Imogen. She wasn't wearing anything except her bra and underwear, her nasty fat was exposed, her stomach had scratch marks and she was bleeding, her black eye makeup was running all down her face, her cheeks were red, her nose had turned into a disgusting snot faucet, her hair was everywhere, her eyes were puffy and watery and she was still crying and she had some sort of maniacal look of victory in her eye because she'd just gotten herself to throw up, but she was still very sad looking because she knew she wasn't good enough, and this was just not cool because she did not want Imogen in the room. Nope. She wanted Imogen far, far, far away. "Imogen," she spoke, her voice cracking. "Imogen, please get out." She did not want to deal with this. She wanted to fall off some high cliff into the ocean and never surface. She wanted to go into the bathtub and drown. She wanted to go to sleep and not wake up. She didn't want to be there. She wanted all of this to disappear and balls this just...this was fucking terrible. She was so vulnerable. She was vulnerable in front of one of her least favorite people on the planet. And she had no where to go. She couldn't stand up and leave because she knew if she did she'd probably fucking collapse. She couldn't apparate out, even though she knew how. That was so illegal. And she'd probably splinch herself because she was inexperienced and she was such a fucking mess right now she couldn't concentrate on anything. And if Imogen said anything bitchy she probably wouldn't even be able to bring herself to come up with a proper retort because she was just. So. Ugh. She was a mess.

She was just a big, fat, disgusting mess.

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credit: format by lainey, lyrics by modest mouse

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[Daphne Hayes]

lovely detail. welcome to the site!

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