Karmic Injustice 〉〉RHIA
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𝕿𝖆𝖇𝖑𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘
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ʟᴇɢᴀʟ ɪɴғᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴠɪsᴀɢᴇ | ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ | ʙɪᴏɢʀᴀᴘʜʏ | ᴇxᴛʀᴀs | ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘs | ᴘʟᴏᴛs | ᴘᴏsᴛs | sᴛᴏʀɪᴇs
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‧₊˚✧. 𝕷𝖊𝖌𝖆𝖑 𝕴𝖓𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 .✧˚₊‧
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𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄: Rhia Blaire Villalba
𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄: …How can you shorten a name that’s already one syllable? - Rhia, herself…, R.B.𝐀𝐆𝐄: Eighteen
𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄: TBD
𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇: January 31st
𝐙𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐂: Aquarius𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑: cisgender female; she/her, but definitely vibes with they/them too.
𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘: bisexual𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 & 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘: Brazilian-American
𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐋: Barbie Ferriera
𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐒:
#DD9FB6
#814D68
#D4C49A
#DD6591 -
‧₊˚✧. 𝖁𝖎𝖘𝖆𝖌𝖊 .✧˚₊‧
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𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑: Short, blunt hair with varying shades, though normally brown to black. Currently, she has her hair cut with fluffy, choppy bangs above her brows.
𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒: Deep dirt-brown with a hint of imaginative sparkle behind them, to make up for the similarities to dirt.
𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓: 6’0 (In the words of Jenna Marbles, I wanna be tall…)
𝐖𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓: 230lbs
𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃: Curvaceous.
𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍: Primarily pale with ochre undertones. A hint of color in the summer, where she tans easily.
𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒: This stick-n-poke, done herself, on on left thigh. Normal ear piercings, including her doubles and triples. A nose piercing.
𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄: COMING SOON!
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‧₊˚✧. 𝕻𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞 .✧˚₊‧
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𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖: Verbal maniac, logically-inclined, open, sweet, thoughtful, social chameleon at times, exuberant, convivial, good listener, control-freak, unable to read tone too well, tends to assume people’s expectations, easy-going about most things, forgives easily, extroverted, tends to lean towards excessive honesty (except with a select few), easily embarrassed, quick to shut down in the face of conflict (and to lash out, unfortunately), anxious with a sheer veneer of not-being-that-way, and, in some ways, egotistical.
𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒: Sexy people, obsessing over fictional characters, Shakespearean plays and sonnets, writing poetry, the smell of roses, dressing up and decorating her body like she’s a damn Christmas tree (her words, not the author’s), driving around aimlessly while listening to some good tunes, people who call her R.B. (even if she pretends to hate nicknames), hiding away, people-watching, doing math, watching YouTube while reading a book, Kimya Dawson, prank calling people, impressing others, libraries, Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, and eating pizza.
𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒: Unwilling solitude, small talk, lying (she does it more than she’d like to admit), that look people get when they don’t understand her, people who don’t know who to drive but have a license (she may be one of those people… shh…), getting a subpar grade on something she spent hours on particularly when it comes to her Calc homework, bug bites, being misconstrued, people who are pretentious about either Shakespeare or podcasts, and being wrong.𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒: Writing, re-reading parts of books with her favorite characters in them, talking on the phone, doing her makeup extravagantly, reading, doing homework, wandering around malls, talking with people
𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒: Internet-sleuthing (solely for piracy reasons and reading up on her new #1 ‘Interesting Fellow’), talking with people, analyzing ‘stupid things’ (hear about her thoughts on Legally Blonde * on her Tumblr page!), mild HTML coding, logic𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐑𝐊𝐒: Biting at her nails (which aren’t usually painted), braiding her hair while nervous, doing weird finger dances to a song she’s listening to, dog-earing pages, and tapping a pencil against her cheek while thinking.
𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒: She prefers not to think about it. But spiders, dying in a car crash, being a disappointment, and never finding people who enjoy life with her instead of judging her for the way she makes sense of things.𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃: In her room, at the local library, in her car, crying in the school bathroom from a panic attack, and probably with her friends, somewhere.
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‧₊˚✧. 𝕭𝖎𝖔𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖕𝖍𝖞 .✧˚₊‧
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𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖:
I am tired lol. I’ll write a small synopsis later!
𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒:
⠀⠀ Her mother is a faint, fuzzy memory. Sometimes, it feels as though she is simply a figment Rhia’s father made up, so as to console his young daughter. But no, she existed, of course, and Rhia has let her fade away into the fabric of quilted memories that lie stuffed in a dusty corner of her mind’s attic. It has always been her father, Howard, and Rhia. That works, by and large, provided Rhia reaches for the bar her father is setting ever higher.⠀⠀ With the folds of time stretching and compressing, Rhia became fascinated by the life held before her. It was easy to get lost in the drag of everyday school, and with each break before diving into homework, her father told her cheerily, “You’ll make the family proud one day!” Something about the way her dad always said it, the tone he took with her, as though it wasn’t a real likelihood. She would calmly, quietly stuff the rest of her apple slices down, put her own tendrils into a ponytail, struggling with the mass of black strings, and walk away. Her desk was a solace, but so were others.
⠀⠀ Her room became a home independent of her father, with its self-made decorations and daddy’s-money creature comforts. Rhia could spend hours, door shut, working away at whatever projects she desired. The older she got, the more likely these projects would receive a grade or some sort. Howard always tracked her progress, keeping an independent tracker of her life, often assigning extra work for her. In 7th grade, a teacher kindly told Mr. Villalaba that he might want to get Rhia tested for ADHD. Her fascination with eons of topics, but also her inability to shut up when the time came, led to her being a distraction in class. A very welcomed one, at times, but she was still unable to do her school work. At least in the presence of other kids.
⠀⠀ At home, Rhia was a machine, well-oiled by the desire for her father’s praises, but in public, she spoke to anyone who would listen about her ideas, her interests. If the topic in school was boring or something she already studied at home with Howard, she’d blabber on, effectively disrupting the class and her participation credits for the day. The news had shocked Howard, but altruistically, he wanted the best for his star pupil. So, Rhia was diagnosed, and from there, she was free from losing points for participation, along with having an extra thirty minutes on tests (which she didn’t need, but she kept her tongue bit on this matter).
⠀⠀ The older Rhia grew, the less fascinated she became with knowledge, at least for the sake of her father. Howard called it teenage angst, doubling down on his assignments, but really, it was simply Rhia choosing what guided her boat and what didn’t. What kept her kicking? Doing her makeup for the day, Shakespeare’s beautiful words, beautiful people, the beautiful world, the dream of being a pure mathematician, and the love of anyone who cared to listen to her speak. Some of those things aligned, ever so slightly, with what Howard wanted for his child, and so he largely let her be, provided she didn’t resist his urge to guide her ship, too. That was fine by her, provided he knew who was in charge. It’s dubious if he does.
⠀⠀ High school opened doors of infinities. Football games became social outings, fit with pre-gaming and after-parties as though she were going to a movie premiere. Unlimited cell-phone access and her driver’s license became freedoms that unleashed her to blare her choice of music (usually hyperpop and indie rock, tbh). She started to express herself, formed this human being that was simply Rhia, not Howard’s child or any other label. Confidence came at a struggle, but after awhile, she learned to swallow the disappointment when even her friends looked at her incredulously or annoyed when she droned on and on about The Bard and her obsession with 100 gecs and the Bubonic Plague. As long as they listened politely, fine by her. Life became a set of compromises, most of which she came by willingly.
⠀⠀ Her friends became dear to her, but so did school. Her teachers adored her influx of emails, daily (well, most of them…). When she finally took AP Calculus, she felt like life couldn’t get any better. Then came the question of college, which wasn’t something Rhia wanted to comprehend beyond a vague sense of what she wanted to do. Her father encouraged her to apply to MIT, which she did, and Columbia, which she did, and Stanford, which she did. Secretly, she applied to local universities, too, and a few more low-brow ones. Something about all that stuffy Ivy-League sobriety didn’t make her excited, even if it was for the sake of one of her favorite subjects.
⠀⠀ Finally, the second semester of her senior year came, and she received her acceptance letters. All but three had accepted her, including Columbia. That was fine by her. However, the question mark above all of the other letters, including the MIT and Stanford acceptances (and her father’s assumption that she’d choose one or the other) remained, even as graduation nears. The past ten weeks have consisted primarily of Rhia trying to forget that college even exists. At least for her. She’d either have to rock the boat, the one she’d unintentionally let her father take almost complete control of, or she’d ride his course.
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‧₊˚✧. 𝕰𝖝𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖘 .✧˚₊‧
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𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒:
⠀⠀ COMING SOON!𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: here
𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓: COMING SOON!