#6ixbio

[the6ixhq]

BACKGROUND

NAME ▶ Raven Moffitt FACECLAIM ▶ Fola Evans-Akingbola GENDER ▶ Demi-woman (she/her/they) DATE OF BIRTH ▶ September 26th, 1994 (24) OCCUPATION ▶ Veterinarian’s assistant/Veterinary student NEIGHBOURHOOD ▶ Parkdale

BIOGRAPHY

TW ▶ cancer, emotional abuse 

Raven’s life started when a Nigerian woman fighting to keep living her day-to-day life and a Canadian man hoping to help a country in need fell in love. Through unsafe liaisons and hopeful promises they conceived a child, who while loved, was forced to have her family ripped apart when a high tension situation forced her father to be sent back to his country by his job. The heartbreak her mother suffered was withheld by the promise to work on getting her and their child out of Nigeria and to Canada where it was safe, but given that they weren’t married, the process would be long and hard. Raven’s mother fought twice as hard to protect her daughter from the environment while she waited, but when the wait became years long and an opportunity for escape presented it self, Raven’s mother took her and immigrated with one bag that contained anything precious – few articles of clothing pictures of her father.

The journey was long and tiresome, but Raven’s mother kissed the ground when she landed safely, and with her four year old daughter in tow, set out to find the man she loved. What she found, no one would ever expect. Months in a shelter searching with money she didn’t have to spare finally lead her to a large house where outside Raven’s father mowed the vast lawn. Her mother’s broad smile faded quickly when a woman came out and kissed him, three children running out after him. Not knowing what to do, Raven’s mother scooped the child up into her arms and left without a word.  While she wanted to break down after finding out the love of her life had another family and had been lying to her with no intention of bringing her over, one look in her daughter’s eyes gave Raven’s mother the courage to be strong. She had gotten away and was going to do everything she could to give her daughter a better life.

With no knowledge of her father, Raven grew up to idolize her single mother for working two jobs and still tucking her in and helping her with her homework. Though their home was shared with another family and was far from special, Raven loved her life and from cooking to helping her mother clean houses for extra money, worked hard in everything.

With nothing feeling like it was amiss, Raven’s life would take a dark turn when her mother fell ill. The doctors called it cancer, but whatever name they slapped on it, Raven knew her mother was strong enough to fight anything.  Or so she thought – she was only a few days off of turning fourteen when her mother passed. The distraught Raven retreated into herself, alone and scared but strong like her mother. Though she had no plans on letting the state put her into foster care or a group home, her plan to drop out and work to support herself, the shock kept coming when Raven’s father showed up out of nowhere. He was contacted after her mother’s death and Raven learned that a few years prior he had found out that they had been in Canada for years, but that his mother refused to take his money or let him see Raven as punishment for his betrayal, which he accepted.

Thought the law was that he was her next of kin and he wanted to take her in, Raven protested, failing to get emancipated and being forced into her estranged father’s care. Though she went from a small, packed apartment to a large house, life was anything but a dream for Raven. Upon moving in, she learned that having found out about her only recently, her step-mother and half siblings all despised her as though she were responsible for their father’s unfaithfulness. His wife agreed to stay with him, but hated seeing the face of the woman her husband betrayed her for in Raven. She went out of her way to chastise and insult the girl whenever her father was around and encouraged her children to do the same. She never failed to remind Raven that she was illegitimate and had no place in their family.

Her half siblings too, followed their mother blindly in support. Though her father did his best to make her comfortable, for every thing he gave, they only saw it as Raven getting all the attention and hated her more for it. When given her own room, her sisters would lock her out of it and mess up her room, breaking her things, tearing her clothes and attempting to destroy photos of her mother. Being punished by their father for it only made them go after Raven more. Her half brother, the eldest, though not actively taking part in the abuse, ignored Raven for the most part as well.

Her home life was made a living hell, which made Raven seek out a life outside of it whenever she could. While it only gave her step-mother more reasons to complain about her, Raven began sneaking out or not coming home from school to avoid the trouble. Her father, in spite of his best efforts, couldn’t gain her trust and Raven couldn’t shake her hatred for what he did to her mother. When it got to a boiling point where her father threatened to leave her mother if she didn’t treat Raven better, Raven ran away knowing that it would only make the woman abuse her more. Raven gathered the cash she had been saving from allowances and gifts and side jobs that she was waiting to use when she turned eighteen and left without a word.  With a ticket to Toronto and everything she could fit in one bag, just as her mother had done, Raven moved on to start anew life.

While she wanted to finish her education formally, knowing she couldn’t get far in life without it, Raven knew there was no way to enroll without a parent. Not wanted to be dragged back to her father, Raven settled for a GED and began working to support herself. The life of sharing low rent apartments was comfortable , like her childhood, and Raven was happier to be on her own even when it got lonely.  She missed her mother, but rather than cry about it, she insisted on making the memory of her mother mean something , saving until she had enough money to go to school while she worked.

[the6ixhq]

BACKGROUND

NAME ▶ Lauren Prescott FACECLAIM ▶ Hayley Atwell GENDER ▶ Cis-female (she/her) DATE OF BIRTH ▶ October 19, 1983 (35) OCCUPATION ▶ Attending Cardiothoracic Surgeon at St. Michael’s Hospital NEIGHBOURHOOD ▶ Rosedale

BIOGRAPHY

TW ▶ hospital

To say that Lauren Prescott was extremely privileged would be an understatement. Born to her neurosurgeon father and OB/GYN mother in Liverpool, England, her childhood had been fairly decent. She was lucky to be born into a family of successful doctors and academics that dated back to at least four generations. The Prescott family was quite wealthy and influential within the British medical community. With her father’s position as one of the most successful neurosurgeons in the country, Lauren’s early years had been mostly spent on the grounds of the University of Liverpool where her father had taught medicine.

It was when Lauren was around eight years old that her mother discovered her father’s affair with his scrub nurse and eventually filed for divorce. That was the first time Lauren had ever experienced heartbreak. She could not fathom the idea of her parents not being together anymore. Thus, she resented her father for breaking her mother’s trust and for breaking up their beautiful family. When it came to a custody battle, Lauren’s mother got custody of her and her mother had been Lauren’s choice as well. Perhaps her decision had been made by her anger but her relationship with her father had become strained after that.

Lauren and her mother then moved to London and eventually, Lauren was sent off to Boarding School. Despite the fact that her family life had become a little rough, she was determined to do well in school. It may have been the fact that academics ran in the family or perhaps that she was just motivated to become a better surgeon than her father. But she had her heart set out on becoming the best surgeon she could be at such a young age. It was her only ambition.

Meanwhile, Lauren’s mother remarried a Canadian businessman two years after the divorce. Their relationship remained a long-distance one for a few years until Lauren turned fourteen. Her step-father wanted to raise Lauren as his own and was trying to make an effort to be a part of her life, which was very unlike her biological father. When he suggested moving the family to Toronto, Lauren did not even hesitate to say yes. She needed the change and her step-father being well-off in Toronto was an added bonus. She spent her high school years in her mother and stepfather’s lavish Scarborough home with her younger half-brother.

An extremely intelligent and hardworking teen nonetheless, she spent most of her after school hours volunteering at her mother’s medical practice in Downtown Toronto. She attended Mary Ward Catholic Secondary School and graduated valedictorian before going off to attend the University of Toronto Scarborough Campus, choosing to live at home instead of moving Downtown or commuting to St. George Campus. Her decision to stay at home was highly influenced by her relationship with her brother, their fifteen year age difference making her more like a third caregiver to him than an older sibling.

She completed a Bachelor’s degree in Human Biology and graduated summa cum laude. Following her graduation from UTSC, Lauren left her parents’ Scarborough home when she was twenty-one years old and finally moved Downtown. She lived in the Annex and while the student apartments were definitely not as luxurious as her parents’ home, she learned to be independent, responsible and humble. She certainly knew that she was privileged and learned not to take it for granted. Besides, living with others allowed her the opportunity to make new friends and she embraced it.

Around this time, she also took up a position as a research assistant with one of the surgeons at Peter Munk Cardiac Centre, working on several projects regarding innovative methods of heart surgery and finding a way for her name to be on a few academic publications. After all, academic involvement did run in her family.

This was also around the time when she met her husband, her fellow classmate at medical school. The two of them first met on the first day of their third year clinical rotations, both being placed in emergency medicine. It was far from love at first sight. It was more along the lines of hate at first sight, if that was even a thing. The two of them were polar opposites in the sense that he was a lot more easy-going compared to hot-headed Lauren. But then again, do opposites really attract? Were they just another stereotypical hate-to-love kind of couple?

They never got along at first but she learned the hardest thing about the medical profession from him. Teamwork was necessary and if she could get herself to work in a team with the man she wasn’t fond of, then she would have mastered that skill… right? But the more she got to work with him, the more she learned how to let herself go and ‘live a little.’ The overly determined, over-achieving mess than Lauren had always been, she did not know how she managed to accept his date. But she did. A part of her had always worried that she would become distracted from her career endeavors. But she soon learned that he wasn’t a distraction to her, but her inspiration to do great things.

She completed the MD program at the University of Toronto’s Faculty of Medicine. After her medical school graduation, she completed her six-year residency in Cardiothoracic Surgery at Toronto General Hospital’s Peter Munk Cardiac Center. This was where she excelled at heart surgery, learning from the best surgeons in the country to be the next best surgeon.

A career-driven woman through and through, she knew exactly what she wanted when it came to her professional future and worked as hard as she could to make them happen. Jobs were lined up for her when she completed her residency. And of course, she got married as soon as her residency had ended. Her and her husband had a small and intimate ceremony at Toronto Central Island with both her now-reunited biological father and her stepfather giving her away.

Now a well-accomplished cardiothoracic surgeon in Toronto, Lauren currently lives in her Rosedale home with her husband and two dogs. She works as an attending at St. Michael’s Hospital, with privileges at Peter Munk Cardiac Center. She is also teaching an anatomy course at the University of Toronto’s St. George Campus as a visiting professor, having published several papers on her own innovative surgeries.

[the6ixhq]

BACKGROUND

NAME ▶ Iris Mau FACECLAIM ▶ Lee Sun-bin GENDER ▶ Cis-female (she/her) DATE OF BIRTH ▶ July 19th, 1991 (27) OCCUPATION ▶ Cinematographer, Instagram Influencer, Writer, and Youtuber NEIGHBOURHOOD ▶ Kensington Market

BIOGRAPHY

TW ▶ abortion, adultery, death, disease, and racism mention 

Since before Iris could remember, she was, in fact, Iris Mau, the second child (and eldest daughter) of four, who’s parents were Endellion “Dell” (née Scott) and Nicholas Mau, a Canadian theologist and Chinese professor of plant and animal science, respectively. The couple had married ten years prior, after meeting at a convention in Singapore, and after eight years of test tubes and test results, they discovered they were biologically unable to produce children, something about them being infertile, though no specific answers were given as to why, but that didn’t deter them from starting a family off their own. 

The couple applied for adoption, first, adopting a child from America, a boy at the age of two, from Chicago, Illinois who has been placed in foster care after his mother terminated her parental rights, and his father was nowhere to be found. Foster care struggled to discover a home that proved adequate until the Mau’s came along. 

Then, two years later, Nicholas or “Nick”, was contacted by a school mate he attended university with, so before she was Iris Mau, legally, she was Bom Soo-young, and the product of an affair between Bom Jeong-hwa, a married botanist and Michael Pyong, an engaged prosecutor, respectively. But after their night together, or rather, a “quickie” in Michael’s office, the young man ringing in the last weeks of being a “bachelor”, before he was to marry the boss’ daughter, he ended things, unaware that he had just impregnated Jeong-hwa. 

The woman, too, was unaware until a few weeks later she felt the side effects of morning sickness and noticed when “that time of month” rolled around, she was late, and after the strip turned pink on the pregnancy test, she came to the conclusion that she was pregnant and it wasn’t her husband’s, the man being fifteen years her senior and biologically unable to reproduce.

Weighing her options, she knew that she could one: abort the child, illegally, since abortion was such in South Korea, two: somehow, pass it off as her husband’s, or three: leave her husband and have the baby out of wedlock and bring great shame upon, not only her husband’s surname but her maiden name as well. But, by chance, option four presented itself in the form of Nicholas Mau, a classmate that attended the Seoul National Unversity for a year, an international student that had befriended Jeong-hwa during his time on campus.

The man, that was visiting South Korea for a reunion of his acapella group, met with Jeong-hwa and a few of their mutual friends, the man talking about how he and his wife were looking to adopt, for the second time. From what Jeong-hwa remembered, Nicholas was intelligent and kind, always a gentleman, in fact, unbeknownst to him, she had a crush on him that year they met, but nothing of noteworthy as he was invested in his studies more than anything (a few rumours going around he might “bat for the opposite” team, with his intelligence, clothing style and manners), and though she didn’t know his wife, she presumed whoever he ended up with, was suitable to be a mother, especially if the government already allowed them, one adoptees.

So, the following day, Jeong-hwa called Nicholas and the two met in a café near his hotel, the woman explaining her ordeal and after some initial hesitation/consideration, the man agreed and the two hatched a plan: Jeong-hwa would come to Canada for a “sabbatical”, during her pregnancy and once she gave birth, she would give the child up for adoption. And though Dell was suspicious, that this child might be the product between her husband and Jeong-hwa’s non-existent affair, the man assured her that this child was one hundred percent Korean, therefore could not be biologically his.

After her birth, the couple choosing the name Iris since Jeong-hwa was a botanist and said her favourite flower was an Iris, Jeong-hwa kissed her child, who she secretly named Soo-young, goodbye and journeyed back to South Korea, never to be heard from again. The couple attempted to keep in contact, but Jeong-hwa claimed it was too difficult, plus she couldn’t run the risk of her husband discovering what had occurred in South Korea, but Dell and Nick always left the door open, in case the woman ever wanted to get to know her daughter.

But, regardless of her blood, Iris was theirs and they loved her as such, to them, sharing blood didn’t matter, they were her parents, though people did assume she was the couple’s biological child based on the fact that she was Asian and most assumed she was only half, and half-Chinese at that, but the couple never wanted to erase or lie about Iris’ origins and were adamant that such assumptions were not alright. After the birth of Iris, the couple settled on the outskirts of Toronto, where her parent’s occupations retained them, though they had strenuous schedules, they were never too busy for their children, Jacob and Iris, and the four resided in a domestic setting, complete with a white Westie aptly named McDuff.

Since Iris learned to walk, her footsteps led her to the tumbling mat and she discovered she was more balanced and poised on the balance beam, than on the sidewalk. It occurred one summer, when she accompanied her mother to pick up Jacob from a birthday party that was at a gymnasium with gigantic trampolines; at first, Iris watched as Jacob, more fluid in his movements bounced up and down before begging her mother to let her try, and after a few tries and a few falls, she got the hang of it and hours later, she was flipping around just as Jacob was, that was until her mother and brother dragged her away to go in search of ice cream. After that night, Iris asked her mother to sign up for gymnastics lessons and Dell, thrilled that her daughter was interested in something other than venturing outside and getting into trouble, signed her up for the junior lessons, ages three to seven.

Being one of the youngest didn’t determine that she was the worst, in fact, her teacher said she saw real talent in Iris, the girl working hard on every single lesson, and then staying after classes to practise her footing, and it was at her during her first competition, that she scored first on bars and beam, that her parents saw what her teacher was talking about. After that, at the age of five, she moved up to the intermediate class; amongst the eight to twelve-year-olds, she was the youngest and the smallest, but again, the most talented.

It was one morning when Iris was getting ready for school when she heard a blood-curdling scream coming from the master bathroom, the three other members of the household rushing upstairs to discover Dell, sitting on the floor, appearing as if she had just seen a ghost, Nick checking to see if she was injured anywhere, but finding nothing conclusive, furrowing his eyebrows. “What’s wrong? What happened?” They all asked, Iris watching as her mother held up something that looked like a plastic stick, a long white strip of plastic with a pink strip in the middle. “No, honey… no… that’s, it’s impossible… you… you’re pregnant?” Hundreds of thoughts coursed through Nick’s mind before he realised that this was really happening and gathered his wife in a joyous hug before their children realised nothing was “wrong” and that this, whatever “this” was, was a good thing, this child was their miracle child.

The family hugged and cried, apparently everyone aware of what was happening except Iris, the girl’s mind too naive to understand, until later, Jacob explained that they would be getting a little brother or sister and at that, Iris was overjoyed; she was tired of being the baby. A few weeks later, Nick was informed that his grant had been funded and he was offered a teaching position at The University of British Columbia in Vancouver, another cause for celebration as the family began packing and planning for the future ahead.

Though things were changing, Iris felt happy about it, yes, she had to say goodbye to her friends, but her mother informed her that there was a gymnastics team, the country’s best, that she could join in Vancouver, and mostly, that this new child, which later became children, since the couple discovered she was pregnant with twins, would not affect their relationship, that they loved all her children equally, biological or not and it was true, Iris never felt jealousy (though she still didn’t understand what adopted meant, only that she didn’t come from her mother, like most of her classmates and that she wasn’t caucasian nor Chinese, she was Korean), as she planned to become a big sister.

After the move, the family resumed their routine, but a couple months later, it was disrupted by Dell giving birth to healthy, happy twins, that were named Isaac and Ilyiana. Things were difficult, for a time, everyone had to adjust and Iris had to rely more on herself, than her parents, but she never felt as if a rift was caused by the arrival of her siblings, in fact, she did everything she could, to help her parents prepare.

In Vancouver, on her first day of third grade, well what would be her first day, since the school year had already started and they were well into the second trimester, the couple having to enrol their children late after the move, is where she met a girl by the name of Frankie Hart, a classmate that offered her a seat, Iris silently grateful since being the new student was difficult enough, with anxieties about whether she would make any friends or not. At lunch, they shared meals and swapped stories and not long, these interactions became routine since they were often partnered up due to their absences; . Iris because of her gymnastics schedule and Frankie because of “familial issues”, as her teacher classified and the two bonded over their respective absences and similar tastes in movies and music. By the time the school year was over, the pair were best friends, there was no Iris, without Frankie and vice-versa, though Iris made other friends, none seemed to compare to that of Frankie Hart.

As time progressed, Iris focused more on gymnastics, than on her studies, especially because her parents hired a private instructor that saw Iris doing flips one day, at the public park, just messing around with a few of her friends from the gym, one of her favourite things to do, the man claiming that he had never seen such talent, not since he last coached a girl from Russia that placed first in the summer Olympics fifteen years prior. Since he had been retired, the man claiming he was “too old”, but he convinced Iris’ parents that she was special and this wasn’t a scam, he truly thought she could place, and after some consideration, the couple conversed with their daughter and they came to an understanding that she would focus on gymnastics, as long as she maintained a steady average with her studies.

It was a strenuous schedule, (almost) fourteen hours a day, either at the gym, practising her floor routine or at the other gym, working on cardio. Her hands were calloused, and every muscle in her body ached, and she was on a strict regime of exercising and dieting which consisted of kale, ice baths and little external activity, that included parties, alcohol, drugs, boys and the like, she couldn’t even be bothered by social media, not that she needed to, she enjoyed seeing her friends, what little time they had, face to face. She still hung out with Frankie, though irregularly, since the other girl was still dealing with “familial issues”, and Iris channelled all her attention into training. She wanted to compete, to win and did so around Canada and the U.S, and after winning Nationals, when she was seventeen, and when the 2009 summer Olympics that were hosted by Beijing arrived, she entered for the team of Canada.

She had advanced with her routine on the bars and beam, they were not an issue, the girl wowing the world with her fluidity and balance, but her floor routine, she was less confident with. She was shaky and sheltered, she was “too much in her own head”, as her brother deemed it. Something about it, something about showing “herself”, as if it was a dance, a light tango, as her instructor explained, made her anxious, especially aware that the entire world was watching, especially her parents, her siblings and everyone she knew back home. The music began playing and the thrumming, the buzz of the atmosphere produced immense pressure on her, and at the last minute, she tumbled, the fatal flaw, as she took home the silver. Still, it was something to be proud of, everyone said, but she couldn’t help but feel as if she could’ve done better.

After the Olympics, Iris returned home, her parents and instructor declining all sponsorships as Iris resolved to hang up her leotard and focus on her studies; she knew she no longer wanted to compete, she lent a majority of her childhood to do that, and she wanted to have a “real” high school experience which included all the aforementioned things she was forbidden, cramming for tests, going to Friday night football games, partying in someone’s basement and relationships, she was seventeen, going on eighteen and never even had her first kiss. She watched a hundred romantic comedies and couldn’t help but feel as if she missed out on a lot, but her mother reminded her that she didn’t have to live her entire life in a year, so she quit her private tutor and reintegrated into high school, her senior year.

She was glad that her classmates and teachers didn’t make it awkward, that they didn’t display any special behaviour because of what happened, she just wanted to feel some semblance of normalcy again, even though she wasn’t certain what that looked or felt like, she thought it had something to do with the John Hughes movies she had watched in her formative years. Though she didn’t graduate valedictorian, or anywhere near the top, she was satisfied with her grades and her choice in university, the same one her father taught at, though she was offered scholarships elsewhere, she wanted to study journalism close to home, but even after all that, something still felt missing.This “something” came in the form of Frankie Hart, her best friend, the girl that had been at her side a majority of her life, but something about their relationship felt… different.

She had never been in a relationship, at least not romantically, had a few bad dates, mostly with guys that didn’t know up from down, but no one she was truly interested in. That all changed when one day she woke up and realised it was Frankie, of course, it was Frankie. After admitting her feelings, albeit, a fight, perhaps their first fight that wasn’t over homework or clothes, fortified their relationship as a romantic couple, much to her family’s dismay since they already assumed the pair were dating.

Another reason Iris chose the university in her hometown, was because she enjoyed the city, it was large, so she didn’t have to run into people she knew all the time, but she was never bored and she was close to Frankie, her beloved. She stayed in the dorms for the first two years whilst attending university and then purchased an apartment, with the help of her parents, the last two.After graduation, Iris felt the proverbial, “the world is my oyster”, feeling, she had graduated with honours, she had a steady relationship with Frankie, and she ventured out into the world with a spring in her step and in search of a job.

She sent her résumé to multiple media outlets, but nothing came to fruition, that was until she was offered a job at a local news channel. It was an entry level job, an assistant that got coffee more than reported hard-hitting journalism, she could’ve done it with her eyes closed, but she was grateful she had a job and everyone had to start somewhere, so she resolved she would work hard which would later translate into a promotion, one could only hope. Though there, she was just known as “the silver girl”, which stung, but she endured it for the sake of her career and future.

It was long hours and not enough pay, or appreciation since she was asked to do everything under the sun, but she was used to working arduous days, but by this time, her relationship with Frankie was suffering, mostly because of their diverging schedules, but also because Frankie’s older sister’s disease took a turn for the worst and soon, Iris was attending the girl’s funeral. Instead of comforting her girlfriend, she was fighting with her and then, Frankie left, leaving Iris heartbroken.

She knew that not everyone was supposed to be with their first love and she should be grateful that her first one was so fruitful, but it was shattering, the heartbreak. After a few more months of enduring the news station, Iris realised she didn’t and more so, couldn’t do this and moved back with her parents as she wondered what to do.Then, her father suggested she apply to universities in China, where she could stay with her paternal grandparents; the family had visited the elderly couple that resided in Beijing a few times when Iris was younger, but after the arrival of the twins and Iris’ training, she didn’t visit them until she was in Beijing for the Olympics and at that time, she couldn’t be distracted with familial reunions.

After applying and being accepted into the Beijing Film Academy, Iris knew there was nothing tying her to Vancouver and packed her bags. Whilst there, studying cinematography, something she had always been interested in, but never realised it was an actual career path, she started to make vlogs about her life as an Asian-Canadian and being an adoptee.

Though she harboured no ill-intentions towards it since her adoptive parents always loved and supported her, she did find it difficult to grow up, especially since people assumed she was her father’s biological, and not Korean. She spoke Mandarin because her it was her father’s first language and he thought it was a useful skill for his children to have, so he taught them from a young age and Dell, having learned the language after she married Nick, the family spoke it in the house.

But she knew nothing of her Korean heritage, she wasn’t certain if she wanted to search for her biological parents, since before she left for China, her parents sat her down and had an “honest and open” conversation about her birth, Nick telling his daughter everything about her birth mother, though claiming he didn’t know anything about her biological father, from what Iris gathered, her biological mother wasn’t ready to be in communication with Iris and the girl wasn’t ready to face that kind of rejection, so she neglected to go searching, but that didn’t deter her from, after graduation, she moved to Seoul. She was always an outgoing, affable person, wherever she went, she made friends, but moving to her country of origin was difficult, again she had to adjust. She knew the basics of Korean, but since everyone assumed she already knew it, she discovered it was difficult to communicate with people and grew frustrated at her attempts. But, after some time, she learned to converse in it, not only that, but read and write in it and after years, she became fluent.

With the rise of social media and YouTube, Iris started uploading her vlogs from MySpace, to Facebook to Youtube and amassed a following in the thousands by the time she journeyed to Seoul. Residing there, she started writing a column for a Korean publication about moving to Korea and being a foreigner, even though she was Korean, by blood, to make money on the side, something to keep the lights on, but her “real” job was YouTube.

She thought of herself as an open book, and her most popular video was her confessions about being an Olympic Hope and the trials and tribulations she faced, but she wanted to be honest and open with her viewers, like her parents were with her, aware that they deserved the truth, as much as anyone else. Viewers adored her vlogs and subsequent social media, because she studied cinematographer, so she knew how to make her photographs/videos visually appealing, or aesthetically, as the kids deemed it, and because she talked about tricky subjects such as racism and her experiences growing up. Making her home base Seoul, Iris journeyed around Asia and then Europe, learning about various cultures and vlogging about them, her vlogs incorporating the skills of travel journalism she had obtained in her undergraduate studies.

She spent years journeying around the world, never staying in a place for too long since her motto was, “the world is too wide to stay in one place,” the girl’s migratory, almost nomadic tendencies leaving little room for romantic relationships or stability for that matter, but she was alright with that; she worked on building her followers and gaining sponsorships, until she was offered a job to come to Toronto, a city she vaguely recollected in her formative years, to write an extensive travel piece on the city.

[the6ixhq]

BACKGROUND

NAME ▶ Dylan Rosa FACECLAIM ▶ Dominique Provost-Chalkley  GENDER ▶ Cis-female (she/her) DATE OF BIRTH ▶ March 24th, 1993 (26) OCCUPATION ▶ Special needs teacher for hearing impaired children NEIGHBOURHOOD ▶ Bloor West Village

BIOGRAPHY

TW ▶ Illness, premature birth, bullying

Life started early for Dylan and her brother – two months early, to be exact. Her mother went into labor with what she thought were two boys so suddenly that her father as a first time parent, had no idea what to do. The process was long and scary, and though one child was completely healthy, Dylan experienced complications. She spent no time in her mothers arm before being rushed to an intensive care unit,  jaundiced, a fever, and an infection, nobody expected little Dylan to make it. With round the clock care and the world and it’s germs kept outside of a clear box, the only thing connecting her to the world outside the tubes that helped her breathe, it didn’t look good.

Still, her parents never gave up, and after almost two months of special care, Dylan was finally able to be in her mother’s arms, not long after being given a clean bill of health and finally sent home. Things were better than could be expected, the family just happy to have the baby home, but after a few weeks, the fever came back. At the hospital, the doctors would reveal and inner ear infection due to her premature birth that was greatly effecting Dylan’s left ear. Though they did all they could, the prediction that Dylan would lose her hearing gradually was unavoidable. While it was the last thing they wanted to hear, Dylan’s parents decided to remain optimistic that their daughter  was alive at all, and dedicated themselves to helping her adjust to life as best as they could.

It spite of  her hearing, Dylan was a happy girl. Sweet, charming, friendly, and loved by her family and friends, she grew well albeit smaller than most kids her age, loving to play and stay active.  

The years passed and Dylan was happy and well adjusted, her hearing gradually worsening, but the real blow came when she was twelve and her hearing deteriorated greatly. All hearing in her left ear was gone and she was discovered to be hard of hearing. With help from her hearing aid being minimal, her teachers and doctors moved Dylan to a special needs class. Dylan was devastated to move away from her friends that she’d grown so comfortable with and who understood her so well, feeling awkward and excluding by them as her disability forced her into a new circle. Though she got to knew the kids in her new class, Dylan still longed for the way things were.

Dylan was clearly sad, but her optimistic personally tried to look forward to all the future. When the time came for her to attend high school, she would face new troubles as her  new school  at the time lacked much aid for special needs kids. Due to her having some hearing in her youth, Dylan’s voice didn’t ‘sound deaf’ as she was harshly reminded by her peers. As the new girl, she was teased and bullied for her small figure and accused of lying or faking being deaf for attention. It left Dylan feeling isolated and alone in her freshman year, her brother allowing her to be with him and his friends, but Dylan not wanting to be a fifth wheel, resolved to find her own friends and come out of her shell. In spite of her disability, Dylan used her active nature to get her involved in after school activities, proving that her lack of hearing didn’t hinder her the way people thought it would. She joined various clubs, meeting disabled students and others with learning disabilities that would inspire Dylan to start a special safe space club for them all where they would address their personal issues and how the school could better become easily accessible for differently abled people.

At the time of graduation, Dylan was already aware of her calling in life. It was clear to Dylan that nothing would get done until someone made it happen, and deciding to be that person, she told the news to her parents she was going to become a teacher for children with special needs and advocate for their rights to a better experience they way she had in school. As she watched the tears well up in her parents eyes, she knew it was the right choice.

The years were long, the studying hard, but Dylan finally received a degree and was now a certified teacher.  Her goals set, she returned to her hometown after college with the fire burning in her every decision to prove to everyone that no matter what their personal setback, that they could do anything.

[the6ixhq]

tag dump.

[the6ixhq]

BACKGROUND

NAME ▶ Henry Bramson FACECLAIM ▶ Daniel Radcliffe  GENDER ▶ Cis-male ( he / him )  DATE OF BIRTH ▶ July 14, 1991 ( 27 ) OCCUPATION ▶ Postal Service Worker NEIGHBOURHOOD ▶ Leslieville

BIOGRAPHY

TW ▶ vague mentions of suicidal thoughts, drinking, injury

Henry lived a pretty uneventful life for the start of it. He was an only child, which meant he got all of his parents love and attention. No wasn’t something he heard a lot. But it meant he never learnt to challenge himself either. School came easy so he never fully applied himself. By college, he was seen as an underachiever but he still got great marks.

Rather than heading off to uni, Henry joined the RAF. It made sense to him and though his mother begged and pleaded for him to do anything else, even going so far as offering to pay not just for all of university but whatever he wanted for his gap year. But Henry had always loved sports more than his studies and had no interest in being a doctor. A soldier, on the other hand, sounded completely appealing.

And Henry succeeded at it. Slowly learning how much he could actually do if he put in even minimal effort. Being pushed and constantly challenged, Henry excelled. He loved it there and eventually, the fun of it all outweighed making his parents fret like they were.

Until they had a reason. Henry was sent to West Africa as part of operation Gritlock but since he wasn’t part of the medical team there to do the real work, Henry and a few other soldiers from various countries and branches of service, found ways to entertain themselves. Drunk off a smuggled in a bottle of whiskey, hiking out in terrain they knew nothing about, thinking it was all their playground. Spoiled white boys with liquor never spells a good time and Henry ended up paying the price.

Climbing around rocks and not paying attention to the unsteady ground, one of the precambrian folds they went up gave out. Henry found himself trapped under boulders, unable to move his leg. The hospitals were all overcrowded due to the very ebola virus the soldiers were there to stop and things weren’t looking great for Henry. By the time he was able to receive care, it was put to him that they could cast his leg and there was a small, small chance he could walk again but never anything more or for long periods. Or he could lose his leg. Eventually, the latter choice was made and very reluctantly.

Henry was discharged after that. Technically, before the surgery but he went back to England no longer a soldier and just a little bit of a disgrace. He moved in with his parents, his mum’s constant lectures about how foolish he’d been helped little but she refused to believe he could live on his own. Bit by bit, Henry withdrew from everything, spending his time in his room, drowning in regret.

His long term partner ended up leaving during this time. After three and half years together, deployment, the loss of a leg, he handled it all but wasn’t able to handle Henry shutting himself off from everything and giving up. After a few weeks of just absolute despair and his first night of drinking since the incident, Henry knew he had to make a big change and fast.

It took some research and too much thinking but he decided to take the safest yet biggest leap he could. Having been an exchange student, thinking he got the worst end of the deal being sent to America rather than Germany or Japan, Henry had spent nine months just across the border from Toronto, in Buffalo New York when he was fifteen. The only connection he could find via social media had moved up north and ensured Henry it was well worth the trip. Since he was making epic leaps it didn’t matter if it was Canada or America, it was all new so why not take the chance.  

A chance to start over.

Henry moved in 2016, by almost 2018 and a whole mess of paperwork and red tape, he was finally legally here. And he was able to stop finically burdening his parents and get a job. After a few less than stellar jobs, Henry used a few connections and friendly offers. Finding himself a job as a postman. It’s nice, he doesn’t have to be incredibly social but he’s not shut in his house all day.

It’s time to stop dwelling on what was lost and find himself a future worth living for.

[the6ixhq]

BACKGROUND

NAME ▶ Francis “Frankie” Hart FACECLAIM ▶ Imogen Poots GENDER ▶ Cis-female (she/her) DATE OF BIRTH ▶ June 21st, 1991 (27) OCCUPATION ▶ Piano Teacher NEIGHBOURHOOD ▶ The Annex

BIOGRAPHY

TW ▶ hospitals, chronic illness, transplant, death mention 

It seemed fitting that Francis Jane Hart be born in the hospital. Most babies were, especially in the metropolis that was Vancouver in the early nineties — but for this particular child, in this particular family, it was simply the first day of endless days in dreary British Columbia. The family’s relationship with the local hospital started years before Francis’ birth. Maggie and Bill were regulars in the facility’s pediatrics department — frequent flyers, they called themselves — always towing around a very loved, very sick little girl named Emma. So by the time Maggie Hart found herself in the throws of labour a second time, she knew the way to labour and delivery by heart. It was exactly a thirty second walk from her daughter’s hospital room, after all. It was convenient that they were stuck in paediatrics with Emma when contractions started, the woman told herself. Convenient, not depressing. It was convenient that nurses could watch over their toddler while they snuck down the hall to bring her baby sister into the world. Convenient that they only had to pay for parking once that day. 

Especially convenient, because baby Francis Jane Hart came into the world exactly thirteen minutes after her mother’s water broke. Everyone joked that she was impatient, overeager to see the world. As Francis (affectionately known as Frankie) grew up hearing the story of her birth, she couldn’t disagree. The young blonde would’ve changed one aspect, though — she would’ve said she was just eager to meet Emma, to scoop up every limited minute she had with her beautiful older sister. Even as a child, Frankie understood that she’d only get so many. 

There was a twenty-five percent chance that Frankie would have cystic fibrosis, too. Her parents knew the odds when she was conceived and prayed that they be in their favour. One sick child was challenging enough. May it be by the hand of God or the power of probability, their second baby girl was absolutely perfect. Frankie had two beautifully perfect lungs and grew to be bigger and stronger than her older sister by the time she hit double digits.

Her parents had to work overtime to pay for the always-growing piles of medical bills, so the girls were left to fend for themselves. Or, more accurately, Frankie was left to fend for Emma. Their bond was impossibly strong — the two only ever separated when Frankie left for school, returning home, or often to the hospital, with handfuls of work the two could do together.

The girls grew up attached at the hip, though their day to day was vastly different. While Emma was stuck to a rigorous routine, held back by her fragile immune system and tired lungs, Frankie was untethered. The older Harts were too busy to watch their youngest daughter closely, and so the small blonde was free to do just about anything she wanted. Frankie made her own lunches, did her own laundry, walked herself to the park or to the hospital to visit Emma — she even signed herself up for extracurriculars, often forging her parents consent. Frankie was content to make good choices with her freedom — to put her grocery money towards groceries, to keep up with her piano lessons when they sucked, or to do homework instead of watching hours upon hours of cartoons in their empty house. The girl was dedicated to being good, to being a non-issue when her family already had so much going on. As small as her big sister was, she could be smaller.

Frankie’s dedication eventually landed her a scholarship to study classical piano and composition at the Carnegie Mellon School of Music— an offer she accepted because it was just close enough to home for her to drive home most weekends. For the first time in her short life, Frankie felt free. Living away from home — from the family she loved so dearly — meant that the blonde could spend entire days not thinking about cystic fibrosis, or clinical trials, or her sister slowly withering away. Frankie made real friends, let herself have real boyfriends (and girlfriends — don’t tell her mother), and practiced her instrument with the same white-knuckled dedication she put towards others.

Two years into her studies, Frankie returned home to find Emma had gotten much worse. Her sister had been living in the hospital for the past two months — something no one bothered to tell her — and between a terrible bout of bronchitis and her deteriorating organs, Emma was living on borrowed time. She would need a lung transplant if she ever wanted to see twenty-three. Frankie cried as her parents explained the developments, her head hung in her hands while Emma rubbed her back. At that point, Frankie decided to put her education on pause, to spend every waking minute at her sister’s side. The blonde never moved, she never faltered — not even when death became such a real possibility she could almost feel it breathing down her neck. She didn’t even falter when making it to twenty-three became making it through the week.

By some divine miracle, Emma got new lungs. Frankie was with her every step of the way, staying through every uncomfortable minute of post-op and recovery. The blonde spent fourteen days living in a cot, getting next to no sleep until Emma was eventually cleared to go home.

Returning to normal seemed impossible. Frankie took another semester off of school and hovered around her house and her sister until they begged her to go back to reality. So she did. The blonde packed up her stuff and moved back to Pittsburgh, where she eventually finished her graduate degree. She kept close to her sister — who seemed to be breathing much easier through new lungs — and close to her friends, finally letting herself settle into an existence where she didn’t feel threatened.

It didn’t last very long.

Emma had to explain chronic rejection to Frankie almost five times. The blonde didn’t want to understand, she wasn’t ready to accept that even after all this time, with all the work and waiting they’d done, that they’d slide right back into uncertainty. Before long, it was like nothing had ever changed. Emma was in and out of the hospital for the next few years, Frankie faithfully at her side, until the visits became frequent enough that it only made sense for Emma to just move back in. The respiratory team even put her in her old room.

It was almost impossible to do, but Frankie continued on with the rest of her life, working towards her graduate degree with her mind stuck at the Detroit Medical Centre. Somehow, the blonde managed to drag herself over the finish line, to the eve of her commencement.

But Frankie never made it across the stage. The night before, Frankie was sleeping soundly in her cot and chaos struck. The blonde awoke with a startle, the loud ringing of Emma’s heart monitor impossible to ignore. Frankie was one her feet in seconds, a team of nurses barrelling in to her left. Someone tried to drag her outside, gloved hands grabbing at her shoulders and her arms, but Frankie fought back, watching in utter terror as a doctor came in to shock Emma’s fragile little body. He tried once. Twice. Three times. Frankie stayed through it all, sobbing like a wounded animal. Twenty-six year old Emma Hart was pronounced dead at 3: 03 in the morning. Frankie thought they might as well pronounce her as well.

Frankie’s world collapsed when Emma died. The blonde lost sense of her purpose, realized that the past twenty-four years of her life had rotated solely around her sister’s wellbeing. Frankie had no life of her own to speak of — nothing except an acute talent of classical piano and as much medical knowledge one could possess without a medical degree. She flitted around her hometown with nowhere to go — no one to love. Her parents were shells of the people they once were, her friends a distant memory in another state. Nothing was left. Frankie remained in the same lonely darkness for years to come, only exiting her messy little apartment to teach piano — she had to pay the bills somehow, after all.

Even now, three years after Emma’s death, Frankie is still struggling to find her footing. Though her small music school is booming, the blonde lacks a sense of true purpose. She’s desperate for connection, for anything or anyone to bring passion into her life, but the walls she put up after Emma’s death are still much to tall to climb.