"Have you seen a black cat?" It was ironic that the one thing she couldn't ever find was her closest confidante: her cat Blair. One would think that an escape artist cat would be the perfect companion for someone who never had issues with finding lost things but Blair managed to sneak out of her apartment as well as under Miray's radar. "Or just a moving shadow?" Miray looked at them hopefully, her normally calm disposition ruffled.
there's a dilemma living inside ife, splitting them near - evenly in two as they dawdle in the hallway, one foot caught in the entryway of their apartment, and the rest of her frozen outside. "ah - um, no?" her shoulders tense up as she cranes her body around to look down the rest of the hallway, then back to miray. on one hand, it's a cat- and ife loves cats. like, so much. on the other hand - if it crosses her path, ife will believe they're so incredibly fucked. and she's already having a bad luck day to begin with, fingers layered with extra band - aids than what's considered normal for them. but if she doesn't help - "have you checked the dining room downstairs? i was walking by earlier and i swear, there's like, an entire full - blown tea party going on. i thought i like, shifted to bridgerton and was about to be declared the diamond of the, um, goshwhatsitcalled - season! and - i think they're serving tuna tartare! cats like tuna!" their voice squeaks towards the end as they run out of breath, gasping sharp as if she's just resurfaced.
"Obviously they don't describe it as cows milk, you know? They're like '2% okay?' or whatever. No one likes advertising where the sausage comes from." Although the mix of metaphors was rough, Atlas stood by it. "Yeah buddy!" His expression brightened even further, drumming his fingers on the table. "You know there's no one else that gets it? Fucking cashew milk should be the norm. But you say one thing about it and everyone acts like you want them to sing an aria at the Met with a full house. It shouldn't be such a big deal." Atlas had been vegan for at least a decade and he tried not to be a preachy one but sometimes he got lucky and the opportunity presented itself. "If we, as a culture, switched to more plant based products then we would all be much better off. Not to mention the environmental impacts. But you can't mess with dairy farmers or meat industry cause they've got enough money to take anyone down." He paused, knowing that the rant may not be Eazy's preferred conversation topic. "You know that you can buy an electric sweatshirt, dude. It could help you adjust."
"you know, that's always bothered me, man - 2% milk. what's the other percent?" an idle thought, the kind where his eyes glaze over for a moment, as if he's really contemplating the 98% of supposed not milk. eazy comes back to the conversation sooner than later, catching onto the latter part of atlas' rant with an agreeing nod. "nah, dude, i hear you - i mean don't get me wrong, i'm a meat man through and through, but i'm not gonna sit here and pretend it's all ... open meadows and rainbows. they're all like, why do it the sustainable, ethical way when it's quicker to just ..." his sentence trails off, not wanting to get into the nitty gritty of it, maybe; shoulders rolling back and pressing themselves against the back of his chair. "i'll tell you, though, dude - i'd go vegan any day over eating whatever kinda, like, lab meat they're trying to grow. talk about shivering my fucking timbers, man." nose scrunches, then unscrunches, at the thought. almost shivers again, his head jerking up at the mention of an electric fucking sweatshirt. "what?" his jaw drops - then picks itself back up with a clamp of teeth. "no way, man, how did i not know those existed? you're telling me i've been huddled by an electric fireplace everyday like i'm bracing the fucking arctic for nothing? shit." begrudgingly, eazy unfurls his arms from where they're comfortable, warm, phone in hand as he opens it up and starts typing. "if my sister knew about these and didn't tell me ... i don't even know, man. i'm feeling a new level of betrayal - julius caesar levels of betrayal. et tu, brutus?"
cosima leans against the bar with an easy grin, fingers idly spinning a cocktail shaker. already onto the next drink that needed done. “inez, don’t act like i’m doing you some huge favor,” she says, voice playful but sincere. “i wouldn't be here if i didn't want to. i’m covering tonight because, honestly? i like being behind the bar. chaos, chatter, pouring drinks — it’s my kind of fun.” she glances at the crowd, then back to inez, eyes bright. “and since you’re curious, robert is closing tonight. which means i'm a free woman here in a bit. you know what they say time flies when you're having fun.”
"oh, i'd never," she feigns an innocence than doesn't suit her, hand clasping against her chest, semi - earnest, "i know, i know - y'breathe and live to work. and i don't blame you any - if i could spend all my time away in my lil' studio, i probably would." a small pause, "okay, i lied - can't help that my focus splits in two and i wanna do everythin' at once - what i need is more hands. richer clients, too." there's a real passion for the work inez does outside of bartending - it just can't be helped that half her rent's covered by drunken tips alone. she snorts at the mention of robert, pushing herself off the counter to lean back against the stool she'd plopped herself down onto, "ask him to make sure he doesn't leave his grubby lil' fingerprints all over the glasses again. feels like i'm shinin' for two when i open." her fingers run back through her hair, ignoring the slight tug of curls that threaten to catch onto her rings. "alright, and as a free woman - what's yer' next plan of action? can't let the night end while it's still young, after all."
"Hey,hi, um... hello,” Ben called awkwardly, one hand raised to get the person’s attention while the other grabbed at the fabric of his pants, trying to subtly free himself from the thing attempting to eat his leg.
“Is this…” He waved his hand in the air, gesturing toward the dog growling and forcefully tugging at him. “…yours?” he asked, a strained smile on his lips as if he were trying to act like the situation was completely normal and as if he wasn't extremely scared and uncomfortable.
inez doesn't mean to bark out a laugh, loud and disrupting, at the sight of ben being hassled by the dog - but she does, hand clamping firm over grin - split mouth. "- oh, no, no - m'not home nearly enough to care for a lil' fella like this one -" her drawl's muffled beneath her palm, a tinge sheepish, extra pep in her step as she strides forth. she's still grinning as she presses her fingers to her lips - lets out a sharp, low whistle that sends the dog backwards. "c'mon, let up - go pick on someone yer' own size, yeah?" with a small, gentle yet firm nudge of her boot, the dog ( a pomeranian mix, inez thinks ) spins back on its heels and trots away. "i'm sorry - that wasn't funny, truly -" her gaze follows the dog for a moment before it's flickering over ben, a small knit of concern creased between her brows. "i bring dogs down here sometimes, y'know - for the older residents who can't always make it over - but he's not one of mine. y'okay? something -" a smile still tugging at her features, despite worry, "- something tells me you're not a dog person. call it a hunch. so - what brings you on over? some kinda' exposure therapy?"
( roberta colindrez, gender nonconforming, she/her ) ✧ ⸻ was that INEZ ORELLANA walking through the doors of the arconia this morning? i heard they just moved in to 1001 from SAN SABA, TX. the 39 year old works as a METALWORKER & BARTENDER @ THE VELVET CELLAR seems like they’d be SPIRITED but also a little bit EVASIVE. whenever i see NEZ, i always think of SWEARING YOU CAN STILL FEEL THE WARMTH OF THE SUN WITHIN THE MOON'S STEADY GAZE, A BLISTERED HEAT BENEATH THE SKIN THAT SCREAMS COMFORT AND A SICK, TWISTING NOSTALGIA; PUSHING YOUR THUMBS INTO THE MEAT OF A NECTARINE UNTIL ITS STONE HEART POPS OUT - IMAGINING IT AS YOUR OWN, COLLARBONE LITTERED IN FINGERTIP BRUISES; & A PERPETUAL BEG AT THE TIP OF YOUR TONGUE, PALMS GRITTED IN GRAVEL, AND AN UNWINDING MOUTH - PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, LET ME STAY WHOLE.
content warnings for ... fire, spousal death, and grief.
the basics.
full name — inez miriam orellana elvir.
nickname(s) — nez ( if you must ).
place of birth — saltillo, coahuila, mexico.
past residences — san saba, texas. briefly austin, texas - then back to san saba. has been around the country, but nothing long - term.
current residence — arconia apartments, apartment 1001. her apartment is a curation of her life until this point; a quilt her grandmother had sewn for her when she was only an infant, her father's old rosary, beads worn from a steady, wary thumb, a collection of half - illegible, handwritten recipes without a book to be bound to as courtesy of her mother. each room lit by corner lamps and candles ( the overhead lights stay off ), if not for the open windows. a record player that has seen better days and a beaded curtain in lieu of a bedroom door. despite the size, the apartment feels small - cozy. comfortable.
education — a certification in welding from central texas college & an emt certification from emts academy. afterwards attended and graduated from oak hill fire department academy in austin, texas. has attended college lectures here and there over the years, but hasn't pursued a degree.
occupation — freelance metalworker specializing in functional chainmail and nontraditional jewelry. has previously worked in collaboration with artists to create stained glass artwork. currently a bartender at the velvet cellar. retired firefighter, has not been in the field for ten years. former wrangler for her family's ranch back in san saba.
astrology — taurus sun, cancer moon, virgo rising.
interests — hand - rolled cigarettes ( a nasty habit she always swears she's kicking soon. and yet ). the perfume jazz club from replica. whiskey, neat. long, drawn out walks - taking her time with everything. the countryside. sewing up her own clothes when they get worn and threadbare. giant belt buckles. cowboy boots, real leather. bringing flowers to her friends. homecooked meals. long, steaming showers. flared jeans. velvet vests. earth and jewel tones. the hum of the city late at night, when she can't sleep. working with her hands, getting them dirty. gardening, though struggles with her green thumb. golden hour. being surrounded by a community and helping where she can. horseback riding. engraved lighters. fish - just thinks they're neat. light, noncommittal flirting. bolo ties. finding meaning in the small things. carrying hope like a loaded weapon. optimistic people, though she doesn't mind pessimists in the slightest - doesn't know where she stands as a person. a nice game of pool. a mean game of poker. roller derby. testing her luck. starting new. learning how to exist.
aversions — the quiet restlessness inside her, always acting as ache, like nothing is ever enough. taxi rides and ubers - would far prefer the subway. the bus is on thin ice. hospitals; would rather lick her own wounds and hope for the best than step inside one. nostalgia, because it hurts too much sometimes - can never escape it, nonetheless. anything bubblegum scented or flavored; can't stand it. being psychoanalyzed, she's fine. always fine. moving on, apparently. grudges, whether she's trying to hold one or whether one is being held against her. loud arguments, bar fights, anything violent. there's no place for it in her heart, but she will respond if necessary - a lover before a fighter. musicals. she's sorry - but no. keeping bobbi pins; her work bandana is always slipping off her head. saying goodbye; always says see you later instead, even to strangers. thoughtlessness. carelessness, though she's had her moments of recklessness. general disrespect, thinks almost every person is deserving of common decency. people who don't tip. vodka redbulls. most energy drinks in general.
quirks — has the nasty habit of grinding her teeth together when stressed. dog walks for the fun of it, likes to be herding a pack. has to pet every cat she sees. feeds the pigeons at the park; is good friends with several senior citizens who do the same. sings to herself when doing busywork, or showering, or cooking. is not very good at it. holds the door open for every person coming in or out of anything. incredible at holding her liquor, gained experience during her family's many, many parties growing up. works out in the early mornings - still likes to maintain a firefighter's physique despite having quit the field. excellent at first aid. gets a little claustrophobic in elevators, and has a mild fear of heights. a major fear in flying - had driven her way from texas to new york. still prays, sometimes, though she's no longer sure if she believes in a god. always, always, sets up an ofrenda around dia de los muertos.
currently playing — sandrevan lullabies - lifestyles by rodriguez. ain't no sunshine by bill withers. secreto de amor by joan sebastian.
notable features — a shock of silvery white streaking through carefully managed waves & curls that she gained not quite proudly in her 20s. soft bags beneath her eyes; always wary, a little tired - despite all other energy proving otherwise. toned arms always shown off through rolled - up sleeves, and a small, mischievous grin that finds its way onto her features without thought. and a chipped tooth from a horse - riding incident many a moon ago.
general disposition — has once been described as short but mighty by a dear friend and former coworker; full of life and seemingly sure of everything she does. every move smooth, fluid; achingly calm despite excitement. feels reassuring, even in her own occasional hesitance.
character study — amanita caplan ( sense8 ) & gomez addams ( the addams family ). according to charactour. i'm also volunteering dr. abbot from the pitt because he lives inside my brain right now.
brief background.
content warnings for ... fire, spousal death, and grief.
inez doesn't remember much of the early years, of the days before texas - just the sweltering heat, sunshine on her back, the warmth of her mother's hand enveloping hers, still small. texas felt much like the same, but louder - busier. more aunts, more uncles, land that felt like it stretched on forever - her mother's sadness less pronounced in the presence of family. she was told once, she thinks, why they left mexico. the other halves of her mother's heart had left for san saba, and as a younger sister through and through - there was only so much space between them she could tolerate before she came running after them.
half of her life's spent on that farmland, on the elvir ranch, surrounded by a steady herd of cousins and siblings that all came after her. learned hard work young - the satisfaction of doing something with your own two hands and seeing the results bloom to fruition. it made her confident, proud to a fault, maybe - independent. always up before sunrise just to tend to the horses in their stables, or the pigs in their pen - coming back home from school just to do it all over again. inez thought she'd always be content with it.
and she was, for a long time. all those long weekends in the sun, sunday services and family dinners, rodeos in the summertime when she was old enough to convince her ma just to try, please, i can do it - content, until she wasn't. content, until she met her future wife and suddenly - nothing was enough. they were still young, still foolish, and inez hadn't known it yet - but the rest of her life felt bleak if april miller wasn't going to be in it. and damn them all if she was going to let her slip through her fingers.
they were a pair of covert high school sweethearts, living in a fairy tale of their own making. almost stereotypical, the preacher's daughter and her rule - breaking girlfriend, sneaking her out of the house too late at night just to stargaze in an open field. happy, despite the circumstances, and once they graduated high school - inez proposed. grandmother's ring and all. april moved onto the elvir ranch - easier, that way - and inez got a certification in welding at a college an hour east of them.
when april showed an interest in glass blowing - in taking classes, in honing the craft she'd always loved and admired - inez wasted no time packing them up and moving them out to austin. it'd been in the plans, anyways; as much as inez loved working on her family farm, at tending to the horses and helping her parents, fixing every little thing that went astray - she wanted more for them. wanted to be more - accomplish more. led to her enrolling in an emt course in the city, then the fire academy. they stayed in austin for years - inez as a firefighter and april an artist, surrounded by a small community they hadn't had in san saba outside of inez' always - supportive family. the two finally married in 2015, when inez and april were both around twenty eight.
fire / spousal death / grief; it was supposed to be the rest of their lives - that was what they promised each other. maybe they would've moved somewhere north, somewhere on the coast; them and a few cats, maybe a dog. maybe a kid. inez hadn't known what life would hold for them - but she thought it would've been good. it would've been so good. she was on duty, sixteen hours into a twenty - four hour shift, when the alarms went off. inez claims she doesn't remember much after that - just the drop of her stomach as the system recited her address overhead, and that continuous, never - ending sinking feeling. they had only been married for a year.
spousal death / grief; the funeral was back home, back in san saba, and inez knew she'd never go back to austin. couldn't. she tried to make it work back home, surrounded by her family - but they'd never handled a grief like hers', and the millers - god. she'd never seen them so upset, so consumed by their own grief - the anger in their eyes as they blamed her, a supposed firefighter - someone who should've been able to save their little girl. inez couldn't do it. she couldn't - exist - in the same town as them, as her family. swallowed guilt daily like it'd been prescribed to her personally. so she eventually up and left, middle of the night, with all of her belongings tucked neat into the back of her shitty little pick - up truck.
drove all the way to new york over the span of a month; hadn't needed to take that long, but inez meandered. got lost to time itself. spent more hours sitting in her car on the side of a long - winding road than driving, she thinks. eventually made her way up to the city, where she picked up as many odd jobs as she could, both to keep busy and to keep surviving. never went back to firefighting, but got back into welding. turned it something serious, eventually earned her place off of coworkers' couches and into an apartment of her own, hopping from neighborhood to neighborhood throughout the years since she'd moved to the city. arconia is just the latest of many. maybe it'll be the longest. maybe she'll stay.
personality & headcanons.
doesn't often talk about the details of her past - just enough to quell curiosity, to remind herself of where she's come from, but nothing that evokes pain from her. guarded, in that sense, though nez tries to come off as an open book to the friends she's made in the city since moving here.
she's usually smooth - talking and self - assured; always taking an interest in the things others have to say, and easily amused by the company she keeps. is fairly kind, charitable - the first to lend a hand, and the first to seek solutions to any problems. comforts her, a little, to be of use to someone.
has been in the city for a good amount of years now, though inez would call it far from being her home. maybe that's why she likes it so much - being such a stark contrast from where she'd grown up.
keeps in touch with her family, and has visited on occasion - but never for long. prefers when they come to see her; their relationship has strained over the years, the distance - and nez knows it hurts her mother in particular. she tries not to think about it.
has been in a few small, fleeting relationships since arriving in new york city - usually noncommittal ones, but she holds herself back from anything developing seriously.
fire / spousal death / grief; in the aftermath of the fire, they were able to retrieve the ring inez had proposed to april with. it is one of the few remnants of april, and their life together, that inez has. the metal is warped, and though she could fix it, she has instead looped it onto a chain that she wears everyday - usually beneath her shirt. the smallest comfort she has afforded herself.
loves doing anything that requires the use of her hands - has thrived as a metalworker over the years, and has created a number of wearable pieces for the clients she's acquired over the years. has even worked with some high names in the fashion industry, though not frequent enough to allow her to live off of it alone.
has long forgone religion, but she still finds herself praying sometimes. only when she really feels she needs it - helps her feel closer to home. spiritual, in that sense - she has to believe that there's something out there. anything.
easy to joke around with, though can sometimes come off as rash or insensitive without meaning to - she thinks all the time spent alone has affected her good ol' southern charm. apologizes when she feels the urge to, if she feels the urge to.
who: elias & open ( @arconiastarters )
where: deja brew
DEJA BREW IS PACKED, a common occurrence for an apartment complex as big as this and being the only coffee shop within the walls of said complex. So it's a little bit of a surprise when Eli manages to get a whole table all to himself after getting the biggest coffee the girl at the counter would sell him. He's just about to take a sip of it, fingers already pulling up his FYP on TikTok, when a shadow blocks the overhead lighting. "You can have the extra seat, but fair warning. All I've talked about lately is Punch the Monkey and I have a lot of feelings about it."
they've lost track of time again; slipped somewhere beneath layers of paper mache and glue, in the crevices of their latest clay project now caked beneath fingernails. there's a glittery sheen to her hands that wasn't there an hour prior, and ife doesn't remember opening her glitter drawer. it just happens. sometimes, when she gets into the zone, like really into the zone - everything else feels like sleepwalking. an autopilot response keeping her well cared for. maintained. ife likes to think it's her body cheering her endeavors on, like there's little people running around in their brain and cranking levers and pulling ... whatever. this time, they've pressed the matcha button, and now she's holding one in her hands - comically large, with so much cold foam it leaks out the top of the lid and threatens to spill over the side - looking a little bit lost as she hovers over the empty seat. "what?" ife blinks, then something clicks inside their brain, and her shoulders slump together, "noooooooo - stop!" they flop down onto the chair, exaggerated, a soft shake to the table as she tosses her tote bag atop it. a ball of yarn tumbles out. she ignores it. "that's literally all that shows up when i open tiktok and i've cried, like, five separate times about him this week already. i had to delete the app! it was like, getting really serious - like, why are they so mean to him? all he wants is his mom -" a quiver of the bottom lip. a sniffle. "- he just wants to be loved!"
Atlas was absolutely stir crazy. Another weekend of snow so bad that neither he nor Mulder could go outside lest they risk getting lost a few steps outside of the building. That was why, despite his rather nice coffee machine in his apartment, he was sitting in Deja Brew with his laptop set up for editing. Normally Atlas wouldn't have dared such a thing because his focus was tenuous to say the least. Case in point, Atlas had barely opened up the video he wanted to post before he was chatting. "No, what I'm saying is that they have perfected the process of making oat milk to where we can steam it into an extremely decent cappuccino. No need to keep cow milk as the default."
eazy isn't built for cold weather - not the ongoing snow that just won't stop, or the black ice that coats the sidewalks and makes him feel like he should've competed for the winter olympics instead, or the fucking chill that seeps down his back every time he steps outside. he knows, deep down, that it's not so much different than doing a polar plunge, or riding waves in the wintertime - but god, he hates it. bundled up in too many layers than what's comfortable and still shivering, his leg shaking steadily beneath the table as he leans back into his seat, arms crossed over one another. "is cow's milk even the default anymore, dude? i feel like we've been, like, actively phasing it out. when's the last time you've gone somewhere and they've been like, cow's milk, sir?" his hands slide out from where they're tucked between arms comfortably, forming a little bowl out of palms and fingers; a mistake, evidently, in the way he quickly shoves them back beneath armpit. eazy's jaw flexes, then clenches; an attempt to not chatter his teeth. "don't get me wrong, dude, i fuck with oat milk and everything - but cashew milk is where's it at, all the way. it's like, top tier. got protein, if you make it at home it's got fucking fiber - i'd give everything to cashew milk. my fame, my fortune, like, maybe a kidney if i didn't need it -"
cosima wipes down the counter with a practiced flick of her wrist, sliding a cocktail shaker into place. the bar’s a little busier than usual, but she doesn’t miss a beat — eyes sharp, movements smooth. then she spots a familiar face, a grin tugging at her lips. she leans just enough over the bar, voice easy but warm, making sure she could be heard. “hey, fancy seeing you here,” she says, tilting her head. “what can i get you? and, if you’re free in about an hour, wanna hang out once i’m done covering this shift?” her grin widens a little, playful but genuine.
there's a possibility that inez will never get used to the city that surrounds her; the way it never sleeps, never stops - just exists. achingly awake with busy streets littered in car - jams, crowded subway cars stuffing bodies like sardines, the distant sound of sirens she's all but too familiar with. it was different in texas - calmer where she lived, more farmland than people, most of whom she'd grown up alongside of and knew better than the back of her own hand. makes her feel like a damn stranger. there's comfort inside the velvet cellar, however, a vague familiarity to it - not quite like the shabby lil' dive bar she'd grown up going to, but still. a bar is a bar, and inez has never shied away from making one her home. evident now in the way she leans her forearms against cool counter top, grinning sharp once her gaze catches onto cosima's. "hey stranger - crazy coincidence, isn't it?" there's a teasing lilt to her voice, chin propping itself against curled fist. "mm, don't worry about lil' ol' me, i've got a nice ol' bottle of kentucky whiskey waiting for me back home." her eyes flitter away from cosima - catching on the surrounding crowd, the filled bar, idle chatter she can only barely make out beneath the music. "y'know, y'could've called me in, cos'. would've done it happily. with a pep in my step, even. skip all the way over. it's not workin' if you're havin' fun, y'know. who you got closin'?"
( ayo edebiri, nonbinary, she/they ) ✧ ⸻ was that IFETOLA OGBEIDE walking through the doors of the arconia this morning? i heard they just moved in to 301 from BROOKLYN, NYC. the 26 year old works as a LINE COOK & FREELANCE ARTIST seems like they’d be WHIMISCAL but also a little bit UNCERTAIN. whenever i see IFE, i always think of ALWAYS FEELING A LITTLE LOST IN A CROWD OF FRIENDS, AND THAT LINGERING, PERSISTENT THOUGHT OF - WHO WILL CATCH ME WHEN I FALL?; COUNTLESS HALF - FINISHED ART PROJECTS, ABANDONED AND DISCONTINUED AND ON HIATUS AND, AND, AND - FEELING OVERWHELMED AT THE PHYSICAL EMBODIMENT OF YOUR OWN MIND; & SMALL REASSURANCES, LITTLE RITUALS - THE INTRINSIC BELIEF THAT HIGH HOPES AND WELL WISHES WILL BE ENOUGH. THAT YOU WILL BE ENOUGH.
content warnings for ... anxiety & rumination.
the basics.
full name — ìfẹ́tọ́lá núrénì ogbeide.
nickname(s) — ife ( with almost everyone ); tola ( by her parents ).
place of birth — bedford - stuyvescent, brooklyn, new york.
past residences — their parents' rent - stabilized brownstone back in brooklyn that they've lived in her entire life, minus a brief dorm - living stint in college that ultimately led to them moving back in.
current residence — arconia apartments, apartment 301. their room looks, more or less, like a tornado has run through it. not messy, necessarily, in terms of being dirty - but just ... cluttered. a sewing machine tucked away into the corner, chair overwhelmed with yards of unused fabric. canvases stacked up against the wall, her desk littered in various cut - outs from magazines, paint tubes, a half - toppled stack of overflowing sketchbooks detailing how, exactly, to make a muppet. her window always left ajar, convinced the sunlight will airdry her clay quicker, despite the temperature outside.
date of birth & age — september 30th, 1999. twenty6.
gender / pronouns — nonbinary. she / they.
sexuality — bisexual.
education — graduated from new york university with a bachelors in studio art. please do not make her go back to school.
occupation — line cook ( and occasional waitress / host ) at her family's restaurant, ibukun kitchen. freelance artist specializing in mixed media art, including but not limited to: yarnwork, weaving, sculpting, ceramics, puppeteering, ideally anything that isn't solely two dimensional. their success in this endeavor thus far is ... questionable, though not for lack of talent or trying. currently building a portfolio and getting their name out there.
interests — telling people she's a really good driver ( she is scared of driving ). art museums and trying to dissect meaning out of intention. falling into an intense, hyper - realistic daydream at any given moment. all animals, but the smaller or fuzzier the better. necklaces with big ol' pendants on them. charm bracelets. knitted sweaters. trying to keep the plant on her windowsill alive ( it has been named fernando ). believing that friendship is magic! asking aforementioned friends if they would still love them if they were a worm. music that makes her skin feel all buzzy. hot soup. her father's stews. collecting too many trinkets from the thrift store. mismatched tights. mismatched socks. mismatched anything, really. over - layering. reading and writing fanfictions. movie hopping at the cinemas. watching the snowfall from the comfort of her room. rainy weather. big ol' boots. talking without taking a breath. anything that symbolizes good luck. puzzles. board - games. fun patterns. humming. big gulps at 7/11. various teas, but never coffee. dancing around the sidewalk with her shitty little headphones on. curling up on a couch and watching bad reality tv.
aversions — cryptids, which she fully believes are real and are terrified by. same goes for ghosts. THEY'RE GONNA GET HER!!! those expensive laminated metallic socks that go for 50 bucks ( secretly wants a pair real bad ). every form of bird, minus pigeons. cracks on the sidewalk. getting caught in the romantasy section of the bookstore. the idea that she's secretly a failure and a disappointment. expectations that feel too far away to grasp. touching grass. when the silence goes for too long and they can't tell if it's a comfortable or an awkward silence. when people text "i have to talk to you" and don't elaborate. deadlines. coffee, too bitter. the color greige. cancelling plans, having plans cancelled on them. rejection. the ferry - gets bad motion sickness on boats. most dairy products. napping for too long. like, very old people. they scare her. newborns. checking her hip against the counter, or doorknob, or wall corner every time she passes by. that little voice in the back of her mind telling her that she's not good enough, that their art is bad. being called naïve or gullible. receiving "reality checks" - they don't need them!!! ( they do ). catching people in their lies. losing their glasses for the eighteenth time. sweet candy - actually much prefers sour.
quirks — calls her mom at least once a day since moving out, usually with the smallest questions. prefers wearing their hair natural, but gets it braided often due to the convenience while working; will usually add little charms afterwards. journals every morning and every night before bed. has to pet every neighborhood and bodega cat they see. loves parallel playing. diys a lot of her own clothing, whether it's little embroiders or buttons sewn on at random, ribbons laced, sweaters, etc. cooks for the entire apartment, just for fun. owns too many tote bags. is so, so, incredibly bad at math. believes in making a wish every 11:11. freezes in flight vs. fight. used to own a crazy amount of american girl dolls. still has one that looks just like them. will often go onto a tangent about whichever pop and / or internet culture thing she's fixated on at the moment. has a Long Ferby.
currently playing — biting down by lorde. know who you are at every age by cocteau twins. caught in the middle by paramore.
notable features — wide, doe - like eyes that shimmer whenever they talk excitedly about, well, anything - matching the flash of glitter smudged over eyelid and below eyeline. perpetually sparkling. two wide front teeth that show whenever they smile - which is often. jingles whenever they walk due to the sheer amount of bracelets they adorn at any given time.
general disposition — sunshine personified and unable to be contained; evident in the frequent fidgeting whenever they're expected to stand still, always shaking a leg or drumming her fingers across surface. quick to perk up whenever someone speaks to them, yet somehow is always sporting a deer in the headlights stare.
character study — jess day ( new girl ) & orla mccool ( derry girls ).
brief background.
content warnings for ... anxiety & rumination.
ife's birth was nothing short of a miracle. born from two people who wanted a child more than anything, with little to no success for almost two decades - they had all but given up when her mom fell pregnant with ife. a miracle, our miracle baby - sometimes ife can hear their voices in her head even now. this repeated mantra - how blessed, how grateful they are, and how loved she was from the very moment they knew she existed. they tell her sometimes - from the moment you were born, you were laughing.
she can't say that her childhood wasn't filled with laughter, because it was - because it's true, ife grew up surrounded by the sound, from herself and from her parents, from her cousins when they would visit from nigeria, or barbados, or fucking wyoming. it followed them wherever they went - but it wasn't always a good thing. laughed with, yes, but also laughed at - realizing always a moment too late when they'd turned into the butt of the joke instead.
school was hard, harder than it should've been. always the odd one out, the weird kid, the one whose interests stayed stagnant the older they got and everyone else moved on. ife always felt one step behind and unable to catch up, whether it were her grades or her peers, eventually resigning themselves to the few people in their life who felt safe to be herself around. the other outcasts, weirdos, the straggling members of art class who hung around in the classroom during lunchtime just to avoid the overwhelm of the cafeteria. a bubble of her own creation, curated to avoid what felt too difficult to handle on her own.
anxiety & rumination; but regardless of the security measures she'd put up for herself, everything felt too difficult to handle on their own. a constant whisper of what ifs swirling around her mind, consuming every waking moment. what if my art's not good enough to go to school for it? what if i'm stuck in the same place forever? what if my parents are disappointed i don't want to be something more? what if everyone thinks i'm annoying? what if i fail? what if i succeed? what if? what if? what if?
it hadn't helped, maybe, that their parents were always - overbearing. well - meaning and adoring and always encouraging her to follow her dreams, yes, but hovering all the same. restricting, sometimes; a dependence on them she struggled to overcome, to want to overcome. hell, they still had her location tracked well throughout college. and as much as she loved them - loves them, still - ife needed to get away. she needed to discover who she was beyond her family and their restaurant, the legacy they're still half convinced she'll take over despite a full degree in the arts - and beyond her own, limiting anxiety to just - exist.
moving into arconia was an impulsive decision - one she wouldn't have been able to do on her current salary if it weren't for the several other roommates already living in the apartment, but it was a needed decision. something ife needed to do for herself, wanted to do for herself. determined not only to prove to herself that she can handle the real world, but that she can make something of herself out there. that all the voices inside her head telling her that she can't succeed in doing something she loves are wrong.
personality & headcanons.
is one of those people who are constantly just ... lost in thought. a crossroads split between being caught within their own mind, and too aware of everything going on around them, while at the same time having no awareness of their surroundings. caught in their own feelings, the reality of oh i'm a body i'm a person to truly tune into what goes on around them.
ife has too many hobbies. they're a good thing, sometimes - hobbies keep people busy. hobbies help people relax from their strenuous lives. they do not help ife relax. instead, she hops between each interest at a near - rapid pace, short bursts of energy until she ultimately burns out and goes comatose on the couch for days at a time.
talks to her parents almost every single day, usually just once - but sometimes ife can be heard in their bedroom, the soft shuffle of pacing through art projects still littered across the floor, rambling soft to their mother about a deadline, or a worry, or whatever gossip ife's picked up from living in a massive apartment building. she visits them often as well, usually bringing home leftovers for everyone to share.
is actually bringing food home all the time; ife hates to see anything at her family's restaurant go to waste, and hates cooking for herself outside of her job - tries not to take up too much fridge space. it's gotten to the point where she'll deliver the meals herself to various people in the apartments.
too kind, sometimes. allergic to saying no to people she deems as new friendship prospects, because this is their attempt at being sociable and being involved in the lives of others besides the same friends they've had since high school. goes a little too hard at this, dedicating a journal to these new friendship prospects' likes and dislikes. got the idea after playing too many hours of stardew valley.
despite ife's bubbly, airy demeanor and general zest for life - she's by no means a naïve person. a bit oblivious, yes - gullible? sure. but naïve? she knows not everyone in the world has best intentions, that sometimes people are cruel just to be cruel, but sometimes she just wants to believe that isn't the case. likes to see the good, but is quick to accept when there's nothing but rot.
she grew up as an only child and albeit having plenty of cousins to grow alongside, ife still spent most of their time alone. it's only made her comfortable to be by herself, to do things on her own; it's one of the few things she doesn't have persistent anxiety about. one of those rare people who actually enjoy grocery shopping. despite this - ife is also trying to Defeat her fear of rejection, leading to her asking people numerous requests and almost hoping that they say no. better to rip the bandaid off than to sit in a paralysis because of her mind's ongoing battle against itself.
wanted connections.
IM BUILDIN' HERE!!! (spoken like a true new yawker - will be back to edit this after inez is done <3)
( tyriq withers, cis man, he/him ) ✧ ⸻ was that EZEKIEL LANE walking through the doors of the arconia this morning? i heard they just moved in to 704 from LOS ANGELES, CA. the 27 year old works as a PROFESSIONAL SURFER seems like they’d be AWELESS but also a little bit SPONTANEOUS. whenever i see EAZY, i always think of WAVES CRASHING OVERHEAD, WATER RUSHING EARS, THAT STEEP DROP IN THE PIT OF YOUR STOMACH AS YOU BREAK THROUGH THE SURFACE TELLING YOU - THIS IS IT. THIS IS WHERE YOU'RE MEANT TO BE; CARTOONISH GLEAMS OF SPARKLING LIGHT WHENEVER YOU SMILE WIDE AND TRUE, KNOWING OF THE BITTER AFTERTASTE IT LEAVES; & THE WISH TO BE SUSPENDED IN UNMOVING TIME, FOREVER FROZEN, FOREVER YOUNG, FOREVER ALIVE.
content warnings for ... critical medical illness. mentions of injury and anxiety are also present.
the basics.
full name — ezekiel cyrus lane.
nickname(s) — eazy ( primary + preferred ); cy ( rare, amongst family ); big z ( nobody calls him this. it did not pick up. )
place of birth — long beach, california.
past residences — generally, up and down the coast of california, in a shitty old van with just enough space to fit his boards. had an apartment in los angeles, california for five years before his move to new york.
current residence — arconia apartments, apartment 704. his room is minimalist yet windswept - bedsheets never remade ( but clean! ), an array of clothes hanging haphazardly out of a wicker hamper, and little belongings of his own besides two surfboards, a polite gathering of 00's digiware ( an old camcorder, an ipod nano, and the flip phone he's only recently given up ), and a few framed photos of his family.
date of birth & age — december 1st, 1998. twenty7.
gender / pronouns — cis man. he / him.
sexuality — bisexual.
education — graduated from ucla with a bachelors in marine biology. currently debating going for his masters.
occupation — professional surfer ( currently on hiatus ) longtime affiliated with the world surf league ( wsl ) & the international surfing association ( isa ). his last notable win was placing top three during the 2024 world surf league, men's championship tour. formerly part of the national scholastic surfing association ( nssa ). participated in the 2024 olympics, where he did not place. current model and brand ambassador for hurley, when his manager can get ahold of him. considering picking up coaching once summer hits. likes to call himself a manny ( man nanny ) for his current work of looking after his niece.
interests — sitting atop his board and squinting towards the horizon, watching how sunlight bleeds into the ocean itself. staying active, staying busy - bike rides and hikes, late - night club scenes, intertwining legs with a lover or two. going on long, winding tangents about any topic he fancies - even those he has no knowledge in. spouting philosophy he doesn't believe in, but desperately wants to. urban exploring, ghost adventures as a concept and a long - time dream of being on. keeping in close touch with his family; always a phone call ( or in his current case, a hallway ) away. fresh produce. long, long showers. the 12 year old chihuahua on petfinder named mr. pickles that he desperately wants to just pick up and bring home. is seriously debating it. help him in his mr. pickles endeavors. following his intuition ( not the best ). having the Best Time, All The Time. sitting with his knitting club consisting of 20 grandmothers and gossiping with them about their grandchildrens' love lives. handmade bead necklaces, silver rings. sunbathing. warm weather. traveling. those protein health smoothies that consist of an entire raw egg.
aversions — serious conversations, though he knows they are inevitable. that it can't be helped. serious relationships, hoping figuring his time in new york will be short - lived, and he'll go home to california soon enough. starting arguments, always the first to concede. cigarette smoke ( is fine with vaping ). multiple layers of clothing. cold weather ( sensitive to it - is in hell currently ). clowns. for the love of god, do NOT bring clowns around him. will shriek. not double texting. triple texting, even. people who litter mindlessly. cooking meals that aren't just rice and whichever Meat of the Week with siracha. hangovers without a cure. the fact there's no erewhon in new york city. being idle for too long. not following his 12 step skincare routine ( he's out in the sun too often to not have a skincare routine locked and loaded ). being disregarded in terms of his intelligence. being interrupted during his yoga sets.
quirks — believes so firmly that ghosts are real, and he MUST prove this - the result of growing up near the infamous rms queen mary. wakes up at sunrise the latest - regardless of when he goes to bed. has a whole night routine he has to follow, even when drunk out of his mind. works out when he's feeling particularly restless. meditates when he's particularly bothered. is bad at meditation, at staying still. is an extremely affectionate person, prone to smothering friends and family in a bear hug. believes in kissing the homies goodnight. can't hang up the phone unless the other person says love you. believes in direct communication - in not going to bed angry. has a hard time processing information at times, his brain whirrs too fast. believes in going hard or going home. loves to live life fast - has a problem with slowing down.
currently playing — chum by earl sweatshirt. pump it by black eyed peas. suga suga by baby bash & frankie j.
notable features — a dimpled chin and broad jaw, the quick shine of silver whenever he grins wide, all teeth. broad - shouldered and well - built, an unstoppable force wasted on the waves. a distinct scar - line perpendicular to his hairline from an accident on the coast eons ago. stands entirely too tall at a towering 6'5" - ducks underneath most doorframes.
general disposition — a practiced casualness to his stature, like he's never once questioned himself or where he's heading. there is no quiet to his confidence, to how it seems like everything just rolls off his shoulders. a mask he wears well - a constant betrayal to the whirlwind spiraling inside him.
character study — richard gansey iii ( the raven cycle ) & steve harrington ( stranger things ). but mostly the main penguin in surf's up. really just the penguin in surf's up.
brief background.
content warnings for ... critical medical illness ( cancer ). mentions of injury and anxiety are also present.
eazy wonders sometimes if their lives were too ... easy, before. back in california, when he and his myriad of sisters were all still young, still carefree; still figuring out their dreams, their capabilities, their futures. he knows they were always secure, that the careers their parents led were enough to carry the rest of them on their backs without struggle. maybe they didn't balance out enough of the good with a little bit of bad, back then, and now - it has to go somewhere. easy wishes it went to him. more than anything, he wishes it went to him instead.
he grew up knowing what he wanted out of life early on; can remember the first time he saw a good, rideable wave out at shore - the body crouched low against board within the wave's tunnel, the hitch in his own throat as he waited for it to overtake the surfer and the awe unclenching from his stomach when it didn't. knew from there on - that was it. that was what he wanted to do. his mom coached him on the weekends, on too - early mornings, before he went off to school and she headed onto campus to lecture on biodiversity and extinction.
anxiety mention; he coasted through school otherwise, a mischievous kid who was more charming than troublemaking, more leader than class clown - too many friends to count, and not enough he felt truly close with. that part's always been - hard, for eazy. easier to laugh it off, have a good time, than get into the nitty gritty, the anxiety that lurched against his diaphragm whenever something didn't go right. a bad run on the waves. a grade he didn't expect. a conversation tilting in a way he couldn't figure a comeback from.
injury mention; but he had his parents, and in particular - he had his sisters. he had josie. a few years older than him but just as in - the - middle, eazy knows she'll always understand. that out of everyone else in their family - she's got his back, and he's got hers'. a lifelong, built - in bond. she's there for every milestone, every tournament, every late night phone call where eazy's at a party he desperately doesn't want to be at anymore. she's there when he busts his head during a competition and has to be carried out of the water, inside the ambulance - holding his hand as he's half - out and stitched up. josie isn't just his sister - josie is his best friend.
they see each other less, the older they grow - josie's graduating culinary school while eazy's traveling the world, chasing wave after wave in competitions he spends just as much as he wins to attend. eventually, she moves out to new york city, and eazy visits when he can, but his schedule is strict and he's planning big things - great things. olympic sized things. a dream he didn't think was feasible until they first announced surfing as an olympic sport. meanwhile, josie kickstarts her career as a pastry chef in an upscale restaurant, she gets married, has a whole entire child with her incredible neurosurgeon wife.
critical medical illness / cancer; and then she gets sick. really sick. the kind of sick that can't be cured by their father's homemade soup, by prayers and well wishes. eazy finds out about her diagnosis through three missed calls and a voicemail telling him to pick up when he can - meanwhile he's in fucking tahiti trying to earn himself a medal. everything else goes by in a blur. the competition, his lost, the plane ride back to the states. everything - just goes by so goddamn fast. when it's - when it's evident that josie's not getting better, that she has to fight for longer than they thought, eazy makes the decision all too easily to move to nyc, to the same apartment complex she and her family lives in. he puts his career on hold almost instantly, without being asked - because all his life, josie's went out of her way to support him. and now it's his turn to take care of her and her family.
personality & headcanons.
feels like one of those bigger than life people, just grand in every aspect - from the jovial way he holds himself, the sharp spark of his laugh, the way his hands move on their own as he's telling a story. everything about him commands attention, to be heard and listened to.
flips between two modes in the public eye, depending on his surroundings. on one hand, he is calm an self - assured, easygoing - languid and fluid, unbothered in the way that screams he doesn't have a single worry in his life. on the other, he's quick - paced and nearly erratic, an energizer bunny going off the walls and bursting with energy pent up for too long - a constant go, go, go. it's easy to spot when he's restless - he starts to pace, he can't stay still for too long, he rambles on for even longer than he already does.
anxiety, illness mention; there's a third mode that's reserved just for him - for josie, too, though he hides it from her more and more each day - and it's that part of him that's just ... unsure. worried. afraid of the future. his anxiety has only worsened since the diagnosis, leading to anxiety attacks he's been playing off as if they're nothing. has it stuck in his head that he's supposed to be strong for everyone, the one who has it all together. isn't that why he moved to arconia in the first place? to be there for her - to help her and her wife take care of their kid, his niece, junie?
is the kind of uncle who spoils the absolute shit out of his nieces and nephews. josie isn't the first to have kids in their family - they've got at least two other older sisters with families of their own now, and every christmas - even if eazy can't be there in person ( which used to be a rare occurrence, but the more that his family has spread out over the years ... ) - he's sending them way too many gifts, none of which should be used in the house. his sisters collectively want to strangle him around the holidays.
one of those people who says he can make it work, and then he does, miraculously, end up making it work. there are only so many people who can pull off going clubbing for a good two thirds of the night whilst still waking up dewy - eyed and refreshed, and eazy is one of those people. he swears it's his superpower.
has only recently gotten an iphone where he posts the most horrendous, nonsensical tiktoks and that's about it - before that, he used to exclusively carry around an old flip phone and an ipod nano. everything he learns about the internet is against his will, but he also picks up on things incredibly fast.
straight up a very reliable person, even when you think he can't. will always show up when called, whenever someone is in need. an ultimate ride or die, and loyal until the very end. can be a bit flightless and unreliable with his own time, however.
wanted connections.
a work in progress! will come back to these after my other intros are finished.
areudirty
turnnoffyourmind
stormborns
titsay
ellievsbear
andulkaphoto
discoholicmusic
