#i usually try to post art in the afternoon cuz that's just when more people r online to see it but

[mieczyhale]

a messy explanation of things and unnecessary information about life lately

soooo... right. i’m sorry i haven’t really been around aside from popping in here and there, and that i’ve been taking longer than usual to reply to things / not replying to things at all. it’s NOT that i’m upset with anyone or trying to ignore / avoid anyone, and it’s not that i don’t care / don’t love talking to you (whomstever you may be) i love chatting with y’all and wish i could get myself to reply to things quicker but i do not control the me lmfao honestly my sleep has never had a schedule but in recent weeks it’s kinda been operating like there’s a lil gremlin in my head who spins a wheel and picks my sleeping times at random - and it’s either like.. two hours or most of a day. there hasn’t been a lot of in between so that’s a thing!!

also in a fun added mix of maybe sleep?, missing meds, being stuck in the house more often than not, and the FUCKING EVERYTHING happening in the world right now my mental health is... probably run by the same goblin that runs my sleep schedule lmao consistency whomst?? since the lockdown started the depression has of course been around more but actually, worse than that, is how my anxiety - and by extension: my ocd - have really amped up and i need y’all to know that the struggle is painfully real (and another thing that affects shit like my replies and writing. reading as well. fics have been kinda stressful and that should be illegal. who authorized this?) i don’t hate talking about it but i don’t really like it either?? especially like.. in depth. but i will say there has been crying, screaming, pain!, and i’ve acquired a few physical injuries.

so

yeah

on a personal level - a ‘just me’ level - shit is an even bigger mess than usual lmao but all these things will get better eventually - they always do. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

NOW

ON A PERSONAL LEVEL - THE FULL LEVEL - THINGS.... are pretty great actually! i mean aside from the state of my fucking house e__e but Josh has been working from home for two (2) months now and it’s been really nice - people complaining about their partners being home?? can’t relate. yknow what?? i just might love that tall bastard even more from all this.fuck all y’all miserable fucks

we’ve been going out for drives and we’ve gone fishing and the only place i’ve gone too that’s re-opened is goodwill. because i require.. the shop. they do have a masks required rule! (at least at the one here) and, alongside that, the places we’ve gone that never closed (like grocery stores and the gas station and the hardware store) have social distancing rules and stuff in place which i love. can we keep social distancing after this is all over?? more things here in wisconsin are opening up and we might go to some. idk though. we also might not. either way its still a weird kind of exciting to see things opening back up?? even though i do think we’re not totally in the clear because most of our gov. sucks (our mayor tried to extend our stay-at-home order - keyword there is TRIED. we are the land of cheese, cows, and no fucking braincells for anyone) 

having pets is obviously not a new thing for me but it’s still a thing. so it takes time and effort and energy and patience and love and a certain disregard for your own safety (claws. they really be as sharp as you think) so... it can be stressful, especially cuz we’ve had to keep them inside more as it gets hot out and something keeps breaking our porch screens (our cats are allowed onto our screened in porch or they can go out in a harness but we will never let them run free outside. fuck that noise)  my bbies are all so cute and their personalities and idiosyncrasies are just... *chefs kiss* i love em and they’re definitely a part of what has made quarantine better

i’ve seen my mom a few times, like for my birthday and when she needed help moving Isaiah from one dorm to another and such, but that’s primarily been an option because she has become anti-mask and anti-stay-at-home-order. initially she wasn’t - she gave Isaiah and i fun lil masks since at that time trying to buy them would be impossible and she thought nothing of staying home - but i guess either as its dragged on or as she’s consumed her middle-right wing news that changed s o. she does take social distancing in public very seriously though, so at least there’s that. our favorite coffee shop, where we - pre-lockdown - always went one (1) or two (2) times a week to do art for hours re-opens on monday and that’s one of the few things i’ve truly missed.

josh’s camping trip for this weekend with his friends had to be cancelled because the parks weren’t going to open in time. so today they’re going somewhere to do at least some of the things they would have done if they had gone camping. bikes, bonfires, and cigars. i’m kinda jealous negl but he was really excited about it so mostly i’m happy

trying to figure out how human services was running things during lockdown was rough but thankfully it didn’t take much to get it sorted. mostly because my mom made the phone call i was supposed to lol (the phone anxiety is on its own level) so wednesday afternoon my mom sat with me while i had the appointment with my psychiatrist over speakerphone (which was.. an experience)

ummm.....

OH YEAH! Probably absolutely my favorite thing that’s happened is: WE’RE STARTING THE SEARCH FOR A NEW HOUSE!!!! it doesn’t mean we’re gonna be moving soon or anything, we don’t want to make the same mistake twice (buying the first house you tour that you love) because while it is a great house ultimately it is way too small for us. i mean there’s me and josh, all six cats, and ALL OUR SHIT. listen: i have an entire room dedicated to my various hobbies. and a walk in closet that isn’t big enough. and we both have collections we love and want to display (right now upstairs its hello kitty and downstairs its astronomy and the titanic. and then there’s pop figures, mtg, collectibles, our bottle collection and various knickknacks, etc.) plus all our books! then furniture and cat furniture (i.e towers) and all their shit because they are spoiled babies. and god forbid we ever have a human kid?? yeah. it’s just not big enough. 

so we’re gonna take more time with this choice but what we do know is:: we wanna live out in the country (i’m paranoid and don’t like to be looked at and he loves the outdoors, lived on a farm for awhile. i also enjoy the outdoors but mostly since we moved into this house i’ve struggled with doing anything outside... while we only have one neighbor on our road. but there’s one across the road and one at the other side of our backyard and that’s just too much lol) 

lets see.. um.... my birthday was may 2nd and that was pretty nice, for a pandemic birthday. there’s been a lot of stuff happening involving josh’s family but that’s not something i really wanna get into on here, tho i will say things have been better in recent weeks and it’s been... really nice. josh and i went to his mom’s house the other night and got drunk with her for fun and i actually had a really good time?? and didn’t complain about going?? that’s kinda unheard of.

i don’t have a job anymore - haven’t since early march-ish - and it kinda sucks but also the universe really did me a solid because my choices were either allow myself to work until i have a mental break again or quit. and i was leaning towards quitting (things had been going down hill with the owner and other employees and just the business as a whole for awhile and there’s a limit to the amount of bullshit i can take thanks) but now it doesn’t seem i have to. why do i think i’m jobless? i was barely working anyway, bc of the snow business was slow, and in march i got really sick and stayed home for a week. the day i was supposed to go back i was still sick, and covid19 was starting to become more of a serious situation everywhere, so josh called in for me and explained that between still being sick and my anxiety over covid (asthma + a not so great immune system) i wasn’t going in that day. i never heard from them again. so. 

but it’s all good - there are some options but i’m not looking into them seriously until it’s safe to.

SO

THAT’S ALL OF FUCKING THAT ON THAT

i felt it wouldn’t be a bad idea to come on here and explain A. what’s been going on and B. where i’ve been and C. that if i haven’t responded to you or acknowledged something you sent me / tagged me in it’s literally just because i either forgot to (for all reasons and none) or i don’t have the mental space / energy to. but that doesn’t mean you have to stop talking to me! even if i don’t respond or respond immediately i do read everything and i would die for any one of you fuckers (especially my clowns and the tom hardy movie) 

oh! and just btw - sometimes i don’t get notifications (quelle surprise) tumblr and skype should really pair up and talk about their truly great systems that function so well /s 8| ANYWAY: the best and most reliable ways to get my attention are twitter ( @/mieczyhale) and discord (same name) because i have yet to see their notifications fail. ahem.

i feel like i’m missing things / forgetting things but honestly this post is long enough and also enough of a rambley mess that i’m just gonna try and ignore that feeling and carry on with my goddamn day so i might actually accomplish something. sorry if there’s spelling off or missing words. i’m not taking the time to re-read this and might even delete it bc it’s already giving me anxiety bUT WE’LL SEE ALRIGHT HI AND BYE I LOVE YOU GUYS <3

[adapted-batteries]

Out from the Facades

Fandom: The Librarians

Rating: General, sfw, some swearing

Relationship: Jazekiel

Word Count: 2236

Going off a previous post where I headcanoned Stone as a trans guy, this is a fic revolving around that, and the concept of found family for June 4th's prompt: Found Family.

Also posted on my Ao3.

-----

Jacob came home, hair cut short, with a button down shirt from the thrift store, trying to ignore the uncomfortableness of the too small sports bra he was using to bind. His father was usually home later, so he figured he’d have some time to think up what he was going to say, and where he could go if he ended up getting kicked out.

Unfortunately, Isaac Stone was standing at the kitchen counter, looking at some bill that had come in the mail that day. His father looked up, squinting at the open door from the bright Oklahoma afternoon. When Jacob unfroze and shut the door, Isaac sucked in a breath.

“So, you’re a boy now,” Isaac said, inspecting Jacob like he was a prize heifer at the county fair. While his feet could move, Jacob’s throat did not want to cooperate, so Isaac continued. “Since you couldn’t even be a decent girl, you better be a better man, you understand?”

Jacob nodded, mentally finishing the thought that came next: because I can’t have a queer for a kid.

So that’s what Jacob did. So long as he acted like a good ol’ boy, everyone went along with it. He was surprised how quickly people just decided that yeah, Rebecca Stone was actually Jacob Stone, star of the high school football team, more than capable of drinking with the actual linebackers, and making the same comments, though thankfully he never felt compelled to act on them like others did.

But the real shocker was how easily Isaac Stone swept the notion of Rebecca, the rough tomboy, under the rug like he had with his late wife's heritage. Surprising support wrapped in the ultimate thought that if things weren't right by themselves, he'd force it into a more acceptable image and move on. He’d drive Stone to Oklahoma City for hormone replacement therapy until he could drive himself, his father hid of all the pictures past baby stage that indicated a girl that wasn’t on board with being one, and somehow never misgendered him.

Of course, his father didn’t have to worry about misgendering if he wasn’t home, or was passed out drunk on the couch if he was.

By the time Jacob turned 18, no one made any mistakes. He’d been blessed by the transgender gods, spending most of his formative years on testosterone, and soon got top surgery in the city (thankfully paid for before his father completely ran the company into the dirt). To complete the perfect picture, he got himself a nice, manly job oil rigging. It was easy to forget he’d ever been Rebecca first.

But jacob couldn’t ignore how much of a fuckup he still was. No one knew that he’d went to college instead of “a stint up on the Keystone pipeline,” that he’d published dozens of scholarly essays on art and literature of all sorts while “apprenticing to be a surveyor,” that he still liked men even though he was a convincing fake womanizer. Despite briefly living more like who he really was, he was terrified of what would happen if the people back home found out. So, what better way to prevent that than to come back to Oklahoma and work long hours on a dead-end pipeline job, biding his time until Isaac decided he’d done enough to murder his company and let Jacob actually take over.

And then, when he was at the bar with some of his buddies, after dutifully hitting on the hot foreign chick with a Latin tattoo, ninjas showed up, and a NATO counter terrorism officer saved his ass.

The Library made it really hard to be Jacob Stone, manly oil rigger from Oklahoma, because he wasn’t any use to the Library for just that. No, Jacob Stone, brilliant scholar and expert in all things liberal arts, that was exactly who the Library needed to repeatedly save the world. And Jacob realized that, hey, it was pretty nice to actually be the real Jacob Stone, the one under all those facades.

The problem was old habits, ones that were decades in the making, were hard to break. It took him a few months to quit instinctively playing stupid before realizing, no, he didn’t have to do that. Only recently did he actually tell his colleagues what he was always busy working on in their off time, still publishing under Dr. Oliver Thompson, though the thought of abandoning the pseudonyms gave him the same fear that kept him hidden in Oklahoma.

At least the artificial interest in women was becoming not so artificial, but then there was Ezekiel Jones, doing his damn best to remind Jacob how not straight he was. And he still wasn’t totally truthful with the team; no one knew he was trans. Though he knew he didn’t owe them that bit of personal history, it felt like one more mask still hanging on his face.

And then the Library sent them to one of his father’s new sites in Wagner, and his past that he tried to shed came rearing its head all at once. Fortunately his father had hired local contractors who didn’t know Jacob, but he couldn’t do much about Isaac himself, or the fact they were dealing with some Choctaw mythology causing a ruckus, with protestors who seemingly could see through his white-passing visage and into his native blood.

It was as if the universe decided that he needed to actually confront the cultural past he’d carefully locked away years ago with his mother’s death, and the past he’d managed to lock away recently with becoming a Librarian. And maybe he actually would.

Isaac, of course, was off being useless in a bar, so naturally he got to introduce his colleagues to his father in his worst state.

“The hell you doin’ here?” Isaac was looking at him, just like he had that afternoon 25 years ago.

It took all of his willpower to not just turn around and leave. “...hey Pop.”

They managed to convince Isaac that he was just a surveyor assistant to Ezekiel, though part of him was on guard in case Cassandra decided to throw down with his father’s disgusting misogynistic behavior (he was convinced she gave Isaac a headache with all the jargon she threw around, so she got some revenge). It was easy knowing what to say to keep Isaac from suspecting anything, to get him to cooperate (especially considering he was oiled with alcohol), but after effectively being “out” intellectually for a year, it hurt to shove himself back into the good ol’ boy role, even if part of him was screaming it was the safe thing to do.

Being locked in the truth chamber was a thrilling experience, in that his anxiety about kept them from escaping. He thought he was going to have to come out right there to Ezekiel and Cassandra, but thankfully the door was happy enough with him talking about his father.

In the end, even after getting a practice run with Hokolonote, he realized it didn’t matter if Isaac had no clue who he really was. Isaac would never care, because Jacob still ended up being the family fuck up, just the “turnin’ your back on your family” one. He left Oklahoma with a different hurt, the low ache of realizing he never actually had genuine family to begin with.

And then he spent more time with the Librarians, and that ache began to fade. These people he worked with, saved, got saved by, knew him as he was, and loved him for it. And realized he felt the exact same way about them. He near spooked himself with how much he cared if Eve had died by Dulac’s sword, if Ezekiel got killed by anubis’s werewolves, if Cassandra didn’t make it through the surgery, if Flynn hadn’t been strong enough to take in evil while they scrambled for a solution to Apep, if Jenkins somehow died (thank god he was immortal). Family was only half of having people care about you; you had to care about them too.

He had family.

But he didn’t want any secrets with the family, and he still had one left tugging on his heart. And who better to tell than the other professional faker on the team.

He cornered Ezekiel in the main room while the others went about doing whatever they were doing. “Hey, Ezekiel, can we talk?”

Ezekiel looked at him, a mix of confusion and concern, since Jacob rarely pulled the first name card for him. “Sure, mate. Is something wrong?”

“No...uh, just, let’s go somewhere more private,” Jacob said, about-facing and walking deeper into the Library. Ezekiel followed him, and he knew the thief was suddenly hyper aware of everything because Jacob caught him off-guard.

The wandered for a bit, eventually far enough from the others and any main walkways where someone might come near. “Okay, what’s this about?” Ezekiel asked, folding his arms.

Jacob took a death breath. “I’ve not been completely truthful about my past-”

Ezekiel cut him off. “No one ever is, least of all me, so what of it?”

“No, just-” Jacob rubbed his face in frustration “-I know you and Cassandra found out I’d lied to my father about myself for decades, but that’s not the only thing about me you don’t know.”

“Okay?” Ezekiel just looked at him even more confused. “Are you like, coming out or something? Because that isn’t a big deal, I mean it is, but like, Cassandra has a girlfriend, mate, and you know I’m not the straightest bloke around.”

“You’re not?” Jacob shook his head, ignoring that bit of apparently obvious information for now. “I, uh, well, yeah, Jones, I’m coming out. I’m trans.”

There was an awkward silence as Ezekiel tried to figure out what Jacob meant by that. “Congrats?” He opened and closed his mouth a few times like he was trying out sentences in his head and deeming them not appropriate, and then a flood of words came out. “Um, so, do you have like prefered pronouns you want me to use? Are you thinking about a new name? Cuz that’s cool too. Are you still into women, or do you not want me to set you up anymore-”

Jacob felt like he’d been doing Atlas’s job for him, and Atlas had finally relieved him. “Ezekiel,” Jacob started to get the thief to quiet, “I’m a trans man.”

“Ooh, okay.” Ezekiel, despite his ability to don a quality poker face, had no control over the blush on his face right then.

Deciding he had nothing left to lose, Jacob decided to answer Ezekiel’s last question. “And you can stop with setting me up with women too...because I’m not straight either.” He let out a bark of a laugh at how surreal he felt, which made Ezekiel startle. Apparently Ezekiel realized how big this was for Jacob, because he was looking at him in amazement now. “I can’t believe I’ve not told anyone else that in two and a half decades.”

“You...it’s been that long?” Ezekiel blinked in disbelief. “How did you hide that?”

Jacob shrugged. “You’d be surprised how easily people will ignore things if you fit in somehow. And I wasn’t ever totally hidden...you met Slaten. He knew me, well, more than anyone else until the Library.” He knew what was coming next after he said that.

“Were you...together?”

A smile crept onto Jacob’s face, reminiscent. “It’s the worst when you fall for your straight best friend.”

“It really is,” Ezekiel replied, and then his expression changed to something more serious, his posture annoyingly more seductive with just a slight tilt of his head and angle of his hips. “Now I pride myself in reading people, a necessary skill for effective grifting, and, well, when I first met you, you gave off some repressed gay vibes for sure. Was there something more when you shoved me against that bookcase when ninjas were invading the Library for the crown?”

Jacob thought back to that moment. “Not exactly, I mean, I'm a fighter so my first thought was to immobilize you.” Ezekiel raised an eyebrow, but Jacob had more to say. He stepped closer to Ezekiel as he said, “then my second thought was you looked like you were enjoying it.” Now he was almost toe to toe with Ezekiel, and the thief had certainly picked up on where he was going. “And my third thought was that I enjoyed looking at you like that.”

Conveniently, they were near a bookcase, not the one from the memory, but close enough. With all other thoughts out the window, Jacob grabbed Ezekiel by the shirt and pushed him against the bookcase. Ezekiel let out a little gasp when his back hit the wood, making Jacob's heart flip in his chest. What he said was true; Jacob was enjoying pinning Ezekiel to the bookcase, and based on Ezekiel's turned on expression, he was too.

Ezekiel interrupted his observations. “Are you just going to look at me?”

“Hmm, I might with that attitude,” Jacob purred. Ezekiel scoffed, but he glanced down at Jacob's mouth, and then Jacob couldn't resist any longer. He relaxed his elbows and brought his face near inches away from Ezekiel's, but something making him hesitate.

Ezekiel read him like an open book. “You aren't second guessing, are you? There's nothing wrong with who you are, though your wardrobe could still use help-”

“Oh, shut it,” Jacob growled, but he didn't back away.

“Make me, cowboy,” Ezekiel retorted. That was enough to get Jacob to close the remaining distance and press his lips onto Ezekiel's.

It wouldn't be an exaggeration for him to say he felt fireworks when Ezekiel kissed back.

This was his family, this building, these people. Blood wasn't everything, despite what the folks back home thought. It only took him 40 years to find it, but he was very glad he did.

-----

Post Notes: So, this is some idyllic world where trans teens got HRT in the 80's, which as far as Google would tell me, wasn't a thing until more recently. Also, since I used “And What Lies Beneath the Stones” for reference on Jacob and Isaac interacting, I also noticed how the one protestor reacted when he looked at Stone, and my brain decided that was him recognizing Choctaw or another tribe in Stone because that's also a fun headcanon in my head from when people mentioned it way back.

I picture this happening after season four, so technically the LiTs don't remember the whole Jenkins dying bit (I feel like Flynn and Eve wouldn't say for time line stability, since Flynn does watch out for that already from “And the Final Curtain”).

[barenjunges]

lonely bottles - rager

rager 1235 words third person limited pov present tense content warnings under cut

“You really think you can have a rager on your yacht and your parents won’t ever find out? You take pictures of everything.”

“I don’t post them anywhere,” Schuylar says. “Not that they would see, at least.”

content warnings: alcohol/alcohol abuse, mentions of physical abuse, trans male issues

author’s notes: hey! my first piece for these new ocs! i’m gonna develop them as we go along basically, i wanted some ocs i use on this blog Only, so here they are. let’s see what happens with them. this is not proofed, a lot of stuff here will probably have a few typos.

“I call it a rager.”

“That makes it sound lamer.”

“How?”

“Like you’re trying too hard.” Xavier lifts his hand to his forehead as if he’s checking for a temperature. “Like, it sounds, like… you’re not a cool enough person yourself to say the word ‘rager.’”

“Why not?” Schuylar demands. He’s indignant. He throws great parties. “It was a fuckin’ rager!”

“It was pretty crowded,” Henry admits softly. “More than usual.”

“‘Cuz it was a fuckin’ rager,” Schuylar says, nodding along to his words. “Next one’s gonna be on the yacht.”

“You love tempting fate,” Xavier tells him as he stands up. Schuylar scans the room and remembers the one bad thing about a rager: cleaning up the next morning. Well, he doesn’t remember it. He always knew it. He was just ignoring it. Xavier and Henry probably won’t stick around to help. Actually, Henry might, but Schuylar will get annoyed by his helpfulness and tell him to leave. 

“What’s that mean?” he asks. “Not the phrase. What do you mean?”

“Won’t your parents kill you if you take the yacht out again?”

“Yeah, if they find out.”

“You really think you can have a rager on your yacht and they won’t ever find out? You take pictures of everything.”

“I don’t post them anywhere,” Schuylar says. “Not that they would see, at least.”

“Your dad would beat the shit out of you and your brother and then your brother would beat you up too,” Xavier says. Schuylar grimaces, not at the thought that Xavier’s brought up, but at the fact that Xavier is right about everything all the time. Then again, he only really knows because his dad would do the same. “And then I’d beat you up.”

“Why?”

“For fun.”

“You don’t have to be here,” Schuylar says. Xavier yawns.

“I’ve gotta go anyway,” he says. “I’ve got shit to do.”

“Like what?”

“Sibling shit.”

“Oh,” Schuylar says. “Babysitting.”

“They’ll be old enough soon,” he says, heading to the bedroom door. “Won’t have to do it anymore.”

“Bye,” Henry says as he stands up, too. Xavier offers a wave and then exits, leaving Schuylar with his other best friend. Not that he’d call either of them best friends; they’re more just the friends he knows best. “I can help clean if you want.”

Schuylar groans.

“You can go.”

He just doesn’t have the energy for Henry right now. He isn’t meek - but he isn’t just chill the way Xavier is, either. Xavier is relaxed and unbothered. Henry is kind of anxious and quiet. But he isn’t submissive. If he was a doormat, Schuylar probably wouldn’t like him at all. 

“Bye, then.”

So now Schuylar’s alone, which means he can finally take his binder off - he knows he shouldn’t have slept in it, but he didn’t fall asleep so much as he passed out - and clean the house up. His parents won’t be home for another few days so he has some time, but the house is huge and he’ll have to do a full sweep to make sure there’s no evidence anywhere. His brother might help later, or he might never come home, either. Schuylar is never sure with him. He decides to grab a few trash bags and get started.

His family is old money and he’s set to inherit a lot of it in five years and the only stipulation is that he graduate college, which shouldn’t be a problem. He’s ahead of schedule actually, and one privilege among his many, is that he gets to major in whatever he wants. So while he watches Henry and Xavier suffer through computer science - Henry to please his parents and Xavier to support his mom - he goes through art classes that they swear are actually harder than what they’re doing. But Schuylar has watched them do their homework. When they’re making new programs, they’re literally speaking a different language. C++? Whatever.

The thing is, Schuylar knows his parents can’t wait to give him the money. Once he and his brother are gone, they don’t have to come home at all - they can just go their separate ways for “work” and Schuylar doesn’t have to know about it. He’ll be in his own house. All alone.

Unless he finds someone to share it with. Not Henry or Xavier. Especially Xavier.

They met in first grade as latchkey kids, the only people in the class who needed somewhere to go after school. They had different teachers during the day but after three p.m. they’d come together and paste macaroni on construction paper or whatever fucking craft the teacher watching them that day had them do. Some teachers were better about it than others. A couple really didn’t want to be there. For the most part, it was fine.

Somehow the tradition just stuck. They never discussed it. They just kept hanging out in the afternoons, even well into high school, after Xavier had to start going home to babysit his younger siblings. But for an hour, they’d just sit in the parking lot and do homework together. No one set it up. It just happened. It was natural.

No one mentioned college, either. They just ended up in the same place. Which isn’t exactly fate, because Xavier is poor as shit and Schuylar should’ve been in an Ivy League school, along with his brother. But he doesn’t really believe in wasting money, no matter how much he has, so he chose a four-year university with a good art program and it just happened to be the one Henry and Xavier applied to as well. So, actually, maybe it is fate? He isn’t sure. He doesn’t know what fate is, really.

Maybe fate is having parents shitty enough that you have to go somewhere after school with the other kids with shitty parents.

Not that their parents are shitty, except maybe Xavier’s dad, but he’s gone a lot. That’s part of what makes him shitty. His mom is an angel. Henry’s parents are alright, but they’re kind of overbearing and they don’t like Schuylar. They wanted Henry to be a doctor, like them, but Henry rejected it. Schuylar actually respects him a lot for that, because he hears that’s hard for Asian Americans, but apparently his family came from China a long time ago and he’s like, third or fourth generation. Schuylar is a white-bread rich kid, but he understands old money. In any case, Schuylar’s parents are shitty but he doesn’t want to complain too much. It’s not like he sees them that much, anyway.

“Fuckin’ rager,” he says to himself as he picks a bra off a lamp shade. It’s not his. It’s lacy and real, and he only owns sports bras at this point. He first told his parents he thought he was the wrong gender when he was nine and they didn’t give a shit - which sounds bad, but it was a blessing in disguise. He started transitioning at eighteen and when he changed his name, they just went along with it. For as shitty as they are, at least they aren’t transphobic. Neither is his brother, but he can’t say the same for homophobia. If he ends up with a dude, there’s going to be hell to pay.

Which is too bad. Because he leans towards dudes.

He throws the bra in the trash bag and keeps going. Fuckin’ rager.

[mindtrove]

#squad, Microscope, Fragrance, Photo Album, Mixtape, Love note, Poison, interiors, hobby Moro, Rami, Ellas, any of themmmmm

Thank you! I don’t wanna clog dashes so i shall keep this to Moro

Squad: who's friends with who? what are the squad dynamics like?

Moro’s closest relationships with her companions (excludingSolas) are Blackwall, who she has a sibling-like bond with, Varric once sherealises his doting and asking how she is all the time doesn’t have ulteriormotives.

She’s also very close with Sera, her motherly nature kicksinto overdrive with the girl and she’s always very adamant in defending her andhelping her grow. Moro knows what city life is like and is very proud of Sera.

Her and Vivienne are strained at first but come to respectone another. Viv doesn’t agree with Moro’s decision at first until she realisesthey more or less have the same ideas in mind but just different approaches.Moro respects her and doesn’t take what the enchanter has to say lightly.

Afternoon teas on her balcony are heard to decline as well.

She has friendly relationships with Bull and Dorian butnothing too in-depth.

She doesn’t like Cole.

Microscope: zoom in -- describe the little, insignificant details about an OC 

The palms of her hands are stained orange from the henna she uses on her hair.

She squints when reading because she technically needs reading glasses but isn’t aware.

Her hands are never idle, there’s always something in her hand that she is fiddling with.

Fragrance: what do your OCs smell like? 

She smells faintly earthy from the henna he uses, incense and oranges.

Photo album: describe one of your OCs' favorite memories

When her grandparents came to visit from Nevarra during a year where they were unsure they would be able to afford the journey.

Mixtape: 5 songs that describe your OC(s) or songs they themselves would like

Smokey Tabboo

Moorlough Shore

A Love Suicide

The Fog

Never Be Mine

Love note: who likes who? crushes? relationships? are they mutual or unrequited?

How their relationship developes in the most basic form lol:

Solas gets rude, so Moro doesn’t like him.

Moro gets mouthy back, so Solas doesn’t like her.

Both of them bite back n forth and try to get on the others nerve with every breath. Neither can stand the other.

Moro is professional and doesn’t allow it to stop her taking his advice. Solas appreciates it. They continue to work together and eventually don’t find enough reasons to get rude to each other but do it anyway out of habit but it’s more playful.

Moro realises Solas can get it, but won’t say/do anything.

Solas realises Moro can get it. Starts to question his sanity.

Fade tongue happen. Moro agrees with Solas to forget it happened. Solas is thirsty and eventually balcony scene happens and he’s like “no *smooch* No bye”

Moro is confused, and now horny. Reminded she hasn;t gotten laid in over 10 years so now she’s pissed off.

They try and see if the relationship works. A lot of trial and error cuz Moro is a self-saboteur who doesn’t know how to allow herself to be loved.

Things improve.

Things are great

Crestwood Happens.

.....

*confetti*

Poison: vices/bad habits? what are they? how do they affect your OC?

Vices:

Olives, they’re her favourite food

Hair pulling and other bedroom activities I shall not disclose lol

Bad habits

She’s very bad at listening to people during an argument. She will usually just raise her hand and tell you to be quiet and leave the conversation. So she’s a very frustrating person to argue with or confront.

Interiors: describe your OC(s) bedroom/home/or a place they consider "theirs". what's in it? do certain items have a special significance to your OC?

While she has her Inquisitor’s quarters, her actual room that she spends time in would look like this. She’s a bit of a magpie and loves beautiful things and likes to surround herself with vivid colours and oddities from wherever.

Hobby: what do they love? what captivates them? what are their passions?

Moro loves music, art, poetry although she’s not overly vocal about it. Withdrawn as she is.

She ADORES birds. I cannot reiterate enough how much she loves them. She knows what they are, how to imitate certain birds calls and how to take care of them.

She is intrigued by magic but doesn’t get a chance to explore it until she meets Solas. However much to his disapointment Moro is much more interested in it’s relationship with nature than with spirits themselves.

Super sorry for the long post guys! But thanks again Midnight for the ask!