── ( nana komatsu. 26. demi woman. she / they. ) there’s something about hadden, man, that makes me so nostalgic. like, you see that? PALOMA “BABE” MORI? yeah, they’ve been in hadden for three years now, and i don’t think i’ve ever seen them leave home without their STACK OF NEON KANDI BRACELETS. i think they’re a MORTUARY SCIENCE & TAXIDERMY MAJOR over at LANGSTON and a DANCER at BLUE VELVET - which makes sense since they’re so VEHEMENT and MESMERIZING. i didn’t think i’d see them out in public so soon, though, ever since … y’know, they had a stalker that their uncle took care of and was incarcerated for. yeah, it’s pretty bad - but i heard they’re also FLIGHTY and VULNERABLE, so i guess you really never know a person … maybe it’s just a LEO thing? either way, everytime they’re around i always get dancing with tears in my eyes by kesha stuck in my head and it just makes me so ENERGIZED. i gotta go walk it off before i do something drastic - see ya! / as penned by james. 26. they/them. est.
...content warnings for... parental & familial death, mentions of a car accident, night terrors, stalking, harassment, implied violence, and drug use.
common knowledge.
full name — koharu "paloma" mori.
nickname(s) — babe! that chick over there. friend :)
place of birth — queens, new york.
date of birth & age — august 10th, 1999. twenty6.
gender / pronouns — demi woman, she / they.
sexuality — bisexual.
occupation — mortuary science & taxidermy major at langston; dancer at blue velvet; amateur taxidermist.
astrology — leo sun, leo moon, leo rising.
residence — hemlock cabin, langston; black - out curtains so the hour is never known. a growing pile of monster energy drinks smashed beneath sole, squeezed between fingers. the scent of something sickly sweet, neon lights illuminating tapestries that feel more tunnel than ceiling. pink leopard print, thongs hanging from chair and doorknob. headphones that blare music even when left strewn across pillow.
interests — giving out stick n' poke tattoos like they're candy; receiving them in return. house music. electronic. "scenecore". mcbling. bright, eye - squinting neons. sleeping in her makeup. pop punk, whiny vocals. screaming along to lyrics. clubbing. nostalgic cartoons. creepy crawlies. fun and silly taxidermy. cooking for her friends as a love language; cooking as a release. dancing, in every form. sugary sweet treats, particularly candy. glittery stickers. glitter in general. leopard print. zebras. sex, love, and an unhealthy dose of both. skateboarding, roller - skating. reacting impulsively. platform boots. fishnet. graffiti. adrenaline rushes and cheap thrills. going against the best wishes of others. cheap beer. her grandfather's noodle recipes. mdma. the sound of static.
aversions — admitting her god complex. taking responsibility for her actions, and the following consequences. the way she can't stop when she begins to cry; the flood waters. being dismissed or ignored. lack of attention. being alone for too long, and long stretches of silence that noise cannot pierce. people who take themselves too seriously. normcore. being shamed. taking her medication. sleeping; her night terrors. thunderstorms, though she says she loves them. muted, desaturated color. art museums. bras. when she isn't the one ending the relationship. tides turning. being confronted by reality. most zoos. anger that's directed entirely towards her, because her. spraining her neck headbanging. when others don't participate in karaoke. her own, swallowing guilt.
quirks — falls in love on a whim, fast and hard and entirely too quick. falls in lust just as quickly, if not quicker. fantasizes and obsesses over one person at a time until a sudden, definite crash. then the cycle continues. never lasts long in relationships; is usually on the frays with someone. has no volume control in public, and speaks without thinking. voices every thought that leaves her head, good or bad. has a tendency to be insensitive. convinces others to get matching tattoos with her, or to run away, or to trip with her. thrashes around in her sleep; a terrible partner to share a bed with. says she can handle her liquor, but is always the first to blackout. is allergic to liquor; this does not stop her.
most played — IN MY MOUTH by black dresses.
notable features — straight black bangs and even straighter hair; always tangled in the wind. a collection of glitter that never leaves her face. a few lovingly placed beauty marks and a full bottom lip that's always bitten raw.
general disposition — electric, energetic; a nonstop force until she's simply not.
character study — penny lane ( almost famous ) & juliet starling ( lollipop chainsaw ).
public record.
parental death / car accident; babe learns early on that life isn't fair - that it isn't ruled by right or wrong, that happiness doesn't always correlate with it. she's too young to remember her parents, their death - the car crash that takes their lives; too young to remember the grief, but swears she can still feel it atop her shoulders like a boulder weighing her down. she's not the only one affected, a brother on either side of her - placed into the care of their grandfather and uncle.
the five of them live in a small apartment - if not cramped before, then certainly cramped then - atop their family's restaurant: a small noodle & beer shop that welds just enough profit for them to get by with secondhand wares and relative ease.
night terrors; they're diagnosed with them when they're too young to know what it means. cries and screams loud enough to wake their household each night, tiny limbs thrashing like an ongoing exorcism every evening, on repeat again and again and again. sleep paralysis becomes common; shadow figures lurking in her doorway, fingers curled over doorframe - eyes she can't see, but can feel. insomnia comes next - she's not incapable of sleeping, but she's long past wanting to.
death and demons, grief and ghosts; as a child, there's only so many explanations to her diagnosis that make sense. real, genuine sense beyond a damaged psyche. babe's always lived in denial, refused to see the darkness in reality - convinces herself that she's a medium. that what she sees is real, that there's a reason why she feels how she feels. her family thinks she'll grow out of it - but she never does. it's better than acknowledging the truth; that fate is a terrible, wretched thing.
babe grows up the weird girl; the girl who talks to nothing, who says she's best friends with bloody mary, who gets back up again and again despite the growing list of skatepark bruises. the girl who never learns, not really; who bends the rules until they snap beneath her fingers.
familial death; her grandfather dies shortly after she graduates from high school - and any plans to attend university fade like a distant memory. she'd been serious about it, once - a pipe dream built atop scholarships she never had a chance of getting, loans she'd never pay back. it doesn't matter anymore - babe needs to help out where she can; her uncle and eldest brother take over the restaurant, keep them afloat as much as they can - and the youngest is already picking up jobs instead of studying. babe hates to see them struggle, hates the familiar haunt of grief, hates how helpless she feels - how helpless she's always felt.
two years of jobs that never lead anywhere, that she always quits before they can fire her first; like rejection is a physical scorch against skin - and babe lands a job as a dancer. young and charismatic, she learns quick and earns quicker. hundreds become thousands, enough to help out her uncle and her brothers, enough to have some leftover - albeit always spent, rarely saved. she lives in small luxury - the want to pursue something deeper washed away by what she can gain now; babe knows how to move forward, but not how to pick up the pieces to continue where she left off. dozens of projects left half - finished, hobbies picked up and dropped; relationships gained and lost without warning. there's only a few constants - her family by her side - but even then, she knows not to rely on a present that never stays still.
stalking, harassment, implied violence; it's a year later when it begins. she's a known face with more than enough regulars, adored by customers and fellow dancers - respected despite still being considered new. it starts with someone too interested, too involved - whose presence becomes anxiety until they're escorted out and banned from the club. it doesn't end there - it doesn't end at his obsession, at keys held between knuckles as soon as she steps out the door, at police reports that go nowhere. where it does end - is when her oldest brother finds out. a matter taken into his own hands. the older man doesn't die, but he comes close to it - and when the police do come around, it's not because of the stalking. it's for her brother - for her family. their uncle steps up, confesses the crime - is arrested the same night.
she's used to the way grief swallows without chewing, takes without wanting - but not guilt. it's not her fault - but it feels like it; feels like suffocating, feels like a load - bearing beam has been knocked sideways, like the entire foundation of her family is at risk of crumbling. so she leaves - leaves the restaurant and her brothers, and the silence she doesn't know how to fill. she applies to langston - and it's not hard to get in, in a school like that - and she leaves.
personal details.
has been called babe her entire life; her grandfather used to say it's because of her older brother. that he used to watch babe on repeat, fixated on it - thought that she was just so pink, as a baby. pig - like. it's a fond nickname - her preferred name; the one she introduces herself by.
unironically calls herself an empath, and it holds true. feels emotions so deep that they hurt; whether they're her own, or others'. a giant crier, who cries when she's happy, when she's sad - when she's angry. paired with being an irrational thinker, someone who always jumps to conclusions without taking a moment to step back - whether it's about being loved or hated. purposefully wears mascara that streaks - because she likes how messy it is.
performative and overdramatic, someone who believes an audience is always watching - who wants to be seen as a caricature of happiness, of sunlight personified. because if she isn't - then she's the girl with the stalker, the girl who let her uncle be incarcerated, the girl with dead parents and dead animals - who thinks the dead speak to her, through her. because if babe isn't happy being a freak - then she's just that. a freak.
resident party girl and well known raver; a self - proclaimed scene queen. her everyday - wear reflects it; rave attire even when it's beyond freezing. loves big, bold colors - the more neon the better - and her arms are consistently covered in kandi that she gives out like candy to all her favorite people of the week; yet the stack never lessens. a big fan of mcbling, of 00's scene culture - of teased hair and morbidity treated like comedy. a stack of studded belts, shirts that squeeze against rib.
drug use;will always deny addiction, laughed off like small talk - but she's big on psychedelics and uppers. poppers and mdma; anything that makes her feel like she can reach out and grasp love like a tangible object, clung against her. believes she can just reel it in - that she's in control.
has probably said "rawr :3" in the past twenty four hours. twelve, even. probably within the hour. it's her favorite filler word.
loud and bold and talkative, a stream of consciousness that never stops. she's not afraid to point things out that others have the consideration to not - and doesn't get the hint on when to stop talking. a blabbermouth who talks about others without remorse, without thinking. can be considered rude, though it often flies over her head in a massive swoop.
needs validation often; needs to feel that she's still liked and loved and adored - that she's okay, that everything is okay. reassurance is her best friend and it's a problem. has a tendency to latch onto others, borderline obsessive in her attachments. thinks it's no big deal, the way it lasts for days and months until it halts sudden, right in its tracks. like it never happened at all. finds most people interesting, like there's something hidden to each person that she wants to dig up like treasure washed ashore. layers that need to be peeled. like shrek said.
hypersexual as a coping mechanism; the undying desire to be wanted and needed as much as she wants and needs others. loves falling in love - but it's never genuine, it never lasts; still craves it as much as she craves the physicality of sex. can be incredibly jealous but treats it as a joke - like it's something to be laughed off until everyone's looking at her like wtf?
babe seeks adrenaline, craves a cheap thrill. loves the idea of being face to face with danger - of jumping away at the last second to avoid it. believes in the supernatural, in ghosts and cryptids - has a very serious crush on mothman. due to being a medium - she experiences ghostly revelations several times a day where she will act as if she can commune with the dead - more often than not being loved ones of anyone surrounding her. she only wishes she could talk to her grandfather again.
has several tattoos that are just the instagram handles and twitch usernames of people she's had whirlwind, weeks - long romances with. thinks it's kind of hilarious - questionable. matches her shitty honda civic that is held up only by faith and the multitude of bumper stickers that lap over one another, paint long - obscured beneath them. the interior is also covered in stickers. it's an overstimulating car, with a fuzzy wheel cover and oversized dice hanging from the rearview mirror. babe loves that car.
loves energy drinks an unhealthy amount. particularly favors monster energy. the honda civic's floor is littered in them - backseat a laundry basket of leopard print bras and whatever else. is a generally messy, unorganized person. loves to live in the chaos of it - doesn't realize how stressful it is to literally everyone else.
