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ABOUT FIONA !ㅤ

she / her !? oa mundane. mirrored lit – descriptive lean. strictly ic. interactive. (n)sfw – profanities. eng / filo roleplay. heavy platonic flirts. psych student & med resident au. flexible fc.
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NOTES !ㅤ

NOTE 1 : due to twitter’s new policy, i would like to inform everyone that i am not in any way affiliated with the idols or celebrities i portray. this account is made solely for roleplaying purposes.
ㅤNOTE 2 : every media used doesn’t belong to the writer, #kira, unless stated otherwise. all rights reserved to the owners.
ㅤNOTE 3 : please do not hesitate to call us out via dms if we ever caused discomfort or offense to anyone. we are open to criticism, and being educated privately and properly will be much more appreciated.
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BACKSTORY !ㅤ

Fiorella Naomi Valente grew up in a household where excellence wasn’t praised but expected. Her mother, polished and ambitious, raised Fiona like a project, shaping her into a daughter who excelled in everything she touched. Grades, competitions, recitals—Fiona won them all, and for a while, she believed that winning meant something. That being the best would make her enough.But perfection is a moving target. No matter how high her scores were or how flawless her performances became, her mother always found the missing piece. A point to improve. A flaw to fix. And Fiona, still young and desperate to be worthy, kept running after approval that never came.By the time she realized she was chasing something she would never catch, the exhaustion had settled deep into her system. The brightness people saw in her was something she learned to imitate, like a mask she put on automatically.Eager to feel something real, she turned to martial arts, archery, scuba diving and everything that forced her out of her own head, for the rush, the discipline, and the danger never failed to ground her, even if only for a moment. In those spaces, she wasn’t the perfect daughter. She was just Fiona.Until an unexpected stranger entered her life. A person with a quiet kind of courage, someone who didn’t ask Fiona to be extraordinary, someone who looked at her without expecting a performance. Their connection wasn’t dramatic or loud; it arrived gently, like warmth seeping into cold hands. Fiona never announced it to herself, never dared name it, but she felt it all the same—the quiet pull, the safety, the strange peace in simply being seen.And for the first time, happiness didn’t look like an achievement. It felt like a person. A presence. And a quiet place to rest.ㅤ