FemaleSophomore LORELAI CHURCH
Aug 15, 2024 12:48:54 GMT -7
Admin Adira, ADMIN ÁINE, and 3 more like this
Post by LORELAI CHURCH on Aug 15, 2024 12:48:54 GMT -7
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The poison labelled love.[break][break]
She is bubbly, sweet, with a soft voice of honey and sugar. She's simple and likes chocolate chip cookies and smells slightly like strawberry pocky, and she likes going out to the mall to grab a cup of taro milk tea with the lil clear tapioca. She'd love to go to the movies and laugh at the newest showings, or run to an arcade to take goofy pictures at the photobooth - unfortunately, she can do none of those for as long as her health permits.[break][break]
She's a demon masquerading with an angel's face, spoiled rotten and to the core because of parents with a guilty conscience. She lives each day selfish, basking in her frailty to shield herself from the jealousy of an able body. She never forgets a grudge and never failed to pay her dues. She loves to gauge and push people, laughing as they crack, finding their suffering just as amusing. Lorelai thinks this is right, thinks this is just. If she is taught to share her belongings, isn't it right to also share in her pain, and in her suffering?[break][break]
Lorelai is shackled and chained to her own body, so caught up and self-absorbed in her own self-pity. Though she understands she must be kind, that she mustn't hurt the people around her, she just can't help it; she's so envious that she could die. There are so many things she could do, but she doesn't know if she'll live long enough to enjoy it all. She doesn't know when she'll lose the ability to do what little she already can, under the protective watch of family.[break][break]
She hates everyone around her, and hates herself most of all. She is pessimistic, though claims to be pragmatic. She's angry, frustrated, bitter, wanting to be more than what her cursed body is - yet finds herself at the mercy of pitiful gazes. Lorelai has resigned herself, and she's tired. Though she's the fragile and caged social butterfly, she thrives and shines, genuinely, behind closed doors with a sketch pad and stories of worlds she'll never see.
The poison labelled love.[break][break]
She is bubbly, sweet, with a soft voice of honey and sugar. She's simple and likes chocolate chip cookies and smells slightly like strawberry pocky, and she likes going out to the mall to grab a cup of taro milk tea with the lil clear tapioca. She'd love to go to the movies and laugh at the newest showings, or run to an arcade to take goofy pictures at the photobooth - unfortunately, she can do none of those for as long as her health permits.[break][break]
She's a demon masquerading with an angel's face, spoiled rotten and to the core because of parents with a guilty conscience. She lives each day selfish, basking in her frailty to shield herself from the jealousy of an able body. She never forgets a grudge and never failed to pay her dues. She loves to gauge and push people, laughing as they crack, finding their suffering just as amusing. Lorelai thinks this is right, thinks this is just. If she is taught to share her belongings, isn't it right to also share in her pain, and in her suffering?[break][break]
Lorelai is shackled and chained to her own body, so caught up and self-absorbed in her own self-pity. Though she understands she must be kind, that she mustn't hurt the people around her, she just can't help it; she's so envious that she could die. There are so many things she could do, but she doesn't know if she'll live long enough to enjoy it all. She doesn't know when she'll lose the ability to do what little she already can, under the protective watch of family.[break][break]
She hates everyone around her, and hates herself most of all. She is pessimistic, though claims to be pragmatic. She's angry, frustrated, bitter, wanting to be more than what her cursed body is - yet finds herself at the mercy of pitiful gazes. Lorelai has resigned herself, and she's tired. Though she's the fragile and caged social butterfly, she thrives and shines, genuinely, behind closed doors with a sketch pad and stories of worlds she'll never see.
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tw: suicide ideation[break][break]
Youare were healthy.[break][break]
A loving mother and a loving father, with two elder siblings in a modest home in the suburbs. It's curious as to how well off you were when mother was a teacher and father was a banker, but you never questioned it when your room was lined with plushies and toys. Grandpa always knew exactly what you wanted, and grandma always gave you all the sweets you'd want - so much your teeth could rot. You can't count how many cavities you had to get fillings for because you'd sneak downstairs, against your parents' wishes, to grab a bite of a new, foreign cookie or snack. You'll learn much later on that the money circulating in the family is bloodied and corrupted, yet you never really knew to care. Rather, you would do anything for your family - come hell or heavens.[break][break]
Everything is lovely, really. Your parents take you on vacations, your aunts and uncles take you to disneyland. Sometimes, you'll go to Toronto and play at Canada's Wonderland. Sometimes, you'll hang out at the night markets scattered across Ontario. Sometimes, you'll visit the States and do some window shopping. Sometimes, you'll go back to Canada to watch the Niagara Falls in the middle of the night, after waking at an ungodly time with father and your other siblings in secret. You'll laugh and snicker softly, as mother sleeps the night away, and while father takes you on a magical trip. You'll take your dog for a walk in the mornings, have a chat with your other grandparents, go to school and play with your friends. You grow up like any normal child would.[break][break]
Until one day, you collapse.[break][break]
You weren't feeling great, really. You felt horrible, in fact. Your chest tightened, breathing was heavy. Your head and eyes were failing on you, and your temperature was heightened. Mother told you it was the common cold, but you thought that you'd still be able to walk. Yet you hold your chest, crying as your body feels both hot and cold - you cry, whimpering to your mother in the pain, clinging to the stomach that churns and tightens. You, in your mid-elementary school years, experience excruciating pain until the sound of paramedics are just outside the house. You're barely conscious and can barely move your joints. You are in agony.[break][break]
You've gotten sick before, but it was never this bad. You don't understand what the doctors are saying until you're fully conscious and can properly breathe again. They hooked you up to tubes, hooks you up to what they called an IV. They hooked you up to heart monitors, and you stayed at the hospital for a little while. They'd ask for your blood, but you were scared of needles. Your mother had to come in the middle of the day to hold your hand as they took your blood again, and again, for more tests and tests and tests - until you're finally diagnosed with an immune deficiency.[break][break]
At first, it wasn't that bad. They told you it meant that you got more sick when you got sick, and it was easier for you to get sick. They told you that the fighters in your body weren't very good at fighting off illnesses, and sometimes they might fight your body instead. You, in your naivety, scold your body, telling them "this is yourself. why are you hurting yourself?", prompting a wry chuckle from concerned parents. They told you that from now on, you can't really go outside. It means you can't really go on trips with them anymore, can't really hang out with your friends, can't really eat all of the things you used to eat when you went out. Little by little, you stayed at home with babysitters, relatives or otherwise. You stopped going out on vacations with the family unless they were sure you would be safe, but they would always bring stuff back for you. Of course, you retaliated - you were not happy with this arrangement.[break][break]
So in return, they gave you everything you wanted, no matter how expensive. The only condition was that you had to stay home, and you had to stay safe. You can buy whatever you want - dresses, jewelry, plushies, dolls, cosmetics, bags.. It didn't matter how expensive it was, they would give you the world; they gave you the world you could no longer step out to. The materials got boring, everything became old, and the loneliness was starting to settle in. Yet, still you got sick. Still, you weakened, and the few times you went out you came back later on with another cold, another excruciating night. On the nights you aren't sick, you hold your stomach and cry into the night. It hurt.[break][break]
One day, your aunts and uncles come for a visit. One of them has a sketchpad and some pencils, and they hold it out to you with a smile.[break][break]
You've drawn before, but it was never something you developed a passion for - at least, not until now. From the day you got a sketchbook, you would draw every day. You'd draw the places you wanted to visit, draw the places you have visited, and draw the places in fantasy. You learn that you have a knack for illustration, and start drawing people. You start with your family, then the old friends who would call and talk to you from the window. Then, you would be drawing what you thought they looked like in high school, when they stopped coming to visit you and stopped responding to your texts, because at some point you stopped going to school and school started coming to you.[break][break]
Drawing becomes writing, eventually. You start writing of fantasy places you'll never visit, then you draw them, then you start drawing your stories. Your siblings notice your effort, and they're the ones who convince you to put your work online. It picks up traction and enough people are interested enough to follow your comics. For a brief while, the attention makes you happy. You're happy, but not for long. [break][break]
Though you love drawing and writing, it becomes drab. You yearn to play like you used to, yearn to travel like you used to. You yearn to return to school like you used to, or you'd yearn for a hasty death before you became a burden to the family. Your family watched as the sparks in your eyes began to die, each night passing to be deader than the last. You're so close to adulthood, and yet you were caged. Your know your family looked on you with pity. You know, you know, you know and know and know and know and--[break][break]
It drove you mad. [break][break]
Your parents loved you, more than anything, you know this. Seeing you tear yourself apart from loneliness and envy pricked at their guilt, and they did what they could, looking for a school you could attend with your health. When they found Panacea, they bring up the option of finishing your education there. You, both resigned and overjoyed, agree, along with their conditions. The year you finally feel better, you are enrolled to the costly boarding school.
tw: suicide ideation[break][break]
You
A loving mother and a loving father, with two elder siblings in a modest home in the suburbs. It's curious as to how well off you were when mother was a teacher and father was a banker, but you never questioned it when your room was lined with plushies and toys. Grandpa always knew exactly what you wanted, and grandma always gave you all the sweets you'd want - so much your teeth could rot. You can't count how many cavities you had to get fillings for because you'd sneak downstairs, against your parents' wishes, to grab a bite of a new, foreign cookie or snack. You'll learn much later on that the money circulating in the family is bloodied and corrupted, yet you never really knew to care. Rather, you would do anything for your family - come hell or heavens.[break][break]
Everything is lovely, really. Your parents take you on vacations, your aunts and uncles take you to disneyland. Sometimes, you'll go to Toronto and play at Canada's Wonderland. Sometimes, you'll hang out at the night markets scattered across Ontario. Sometimes, you'll visit the States and do some window shopping. Sometimes, you'll go back to Canada to watch the Niagara Falls in the middle of the night, after waking at an ungodly time with father and your other siblings in secret. You'll laugh and snicker softly, as mother sleeps the night away, and while father takes you on a magical trip. You'll take your dog for a walk in the mornings, have a chat with your other grandparents, go to school and play with your friends. You grow up like any normal child would.[break][break]
Until one day, you collapse.[break][break]
You weren't feeling great, really. You felt horrible, in fact. Your chest tightened, breathing was heavy. Your head and eyes were failing on you, and your temperature was heightened. Mother told you it was the common cold, but you thought that you'd still be able to walk. Yet you hold your chest, crying as your body feels both hot and cold - you cry, whimpering to your mother in the pain, clinging to the stomach that churns and tightens. You, in your mid-elementary school years, experience excruciating pain until the sound of paramedics are just outside the house. You're barely conscious and can barely move your joints. You are in agony.[break][break]
You've gotten sick before, but it was never this bad. You don't understand what the doctors are saying until you're fully conscious and can properly breathe again. They hooked you up to tubes, hooks you up to what they called an IV. They hooked you up to heart monitors, and you stayed at the hospital for a little while. They'd ask for your blood, but you were scared of needles. Your mother had to come in the middle of the day to hold your hand as they took your blood again, and again, for more tests and tests and tests - until you're finally diagnosed with an immune deficiency.[break][break]
At first, it wasn't that bad. They told you it meant that you got more sick when you got sick, and it was easier for you to get sick. They told you that the fighters in your body weren't very good at fighting off illnesses, and sometimes they might fight your body instead. You, in your naivety, scold your body, telling them "this is yourself. why are you hurting yourself?", prompting a wry chuckle from concerned parents. They told you that from now on, you can't really go outside. It means you can't really go on trips with them anymore, can't really hang out with your friends, can't really eat all of the things you used to eat when you went out. Little by little, you stayed at home with babysitters, relatives or otherwise. You stopped going out on vacations with the family unless they were sure you would be safe, but they would always bring stuff back for you. Of course, you retaliated - you were not happy with this arrangement.[break][break]
So in return, they gave you everything you wanted, no matter how expensive. The only condition was that you had to stay home, and you had to stay safe. You can buy whatever you want - dresses, jewelry, plushies, dolls, cosmetics, bags.. It didn't matter how expensive it was, they would give you the world; they gave you the world you could no longer step out to. The materials got boring, everything became old, and the loneliness was starting to settle in. Yet, still you got sick. Still, you weakened, and the few times you went out you came back later on with another cold, another excruciating night. On the nights you aren't sick, you hold your stomach and cry into the night. It hurt.[break][break]
One day, your aunts and uncles come for a visit. One of them has a sketchpad and some pencils, and they hold it out to you with a smile.[break][break]
You've drawn before, but it was never something you developed a passion for - at least, not until now. From the day you got a sketchbook, you would draw every day. You'd draw the places you wanted to visit, draw the places you have visited, and draw the places in fantasy. You learn that you have a knack for illustration, and start drawing people. You start with your family, then the old friends who would call and talk to you from the window. Then, you would be drawing what you thought they looked like in high school, when they stopped coming to visit you and stopped responding to your texts, because at some point you stopped going to school and school started coming to you.[break][break]
Drawing becomes writing, eventually. You start writing of fantasy places you'll never visit, then you draw them, then you start drawing your stories. Your siblings notice your effort, and they're the ones who convince you to put your work online. It picks up traction and enough people are interested enough to follow your comics. For a brief while, the attention makes you happy. You're happy, but not for long. [break][break]
Though you love drawing and writing, it becomes drab. You yearn to play like you used to, yearn to travel like you used to. You yearn to return to school like you used to, or you'd yearn for a hasty death before you became a burden to the family. Your family watched as the sparks in your eyes began to die, each night passing to be deader than the last. You're so close to adulthood, and yet you were caged. Your know your family looked on you with pity. You know, you know, you know and know and know and know and--[break][break]
It drove you mad. [break][break]
Your parents loved you, more than anything, you know this. Seeing you tear yourself apart from loneliness and envy pricked at their guilt, and they did what they could, looking for a school you could attend with your health. When they found Panacea, they bring up the option of finishing your education there. You, both resigned and overjoyed, agree, along with their conditions. The year you finally feel better, you are enrolled to the costly boarding school.
hobbies
[break]
visual arts amidst her books, she always carries a sketchbook and some pencils with her. If she doesn't have those around, she'll use her tablet with the accompanying pencil to draw. She pulls it out whenever she spends too much time in her head, or when she needs to do something leisurely.
[break][break]
creative writing in addition to drawing and painting, she loves writing. She loves writing fantastical stories, loves drawing out her own characters in her books, and loves improving and honing her imagination.
[break][break]
origami folding is something she picked up with one of her tutors, and she can be found folding a paper crane here and there - mostly because it's the only thing she knows how to fold. She knows that folding a thousand paper cranes won't grant her wish, but she does it anyways to have something else to look forward to.
[break][break]trivia
[break]
diagnosed with common variable immunodeficiency when she was around ten, and due to this she cannot do what a lot of her peers can. She cannot join any sport teams, and her ability to join clubs is limited. When she isn't in class, she is either in her dorm room or she's visiting the nurse's office for a check up, or for a blood transfusion.
[break][break]
has a sweet tooth which is a shame, because she can't really eat too many sweet foods unless she wants her stomach to make her suffer. Subsequently, she cannot eat too many spicy foods.
[break][break]
her family is involved in organized crime which is kept under wraps, for good reason. They do their business back home in Ontario, and the story her family has crafted up was that her dad does stocks and her mom is a university lecturer. Her local guardian while attending is her eldest brother - a physician in Wisteria City.
[break][break]
she keeps a dream journal and hangs a dreamcatcher above her bed's headboard. She's only slightly superstitious about dreams, but never fails to record her findings in entries each and every night.
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