#stuff aspen has heard
Text
Coffeeshop Saviour
Summary: In a desperate attempt to get rid of a creep, Aspen clings to the closest man that she could claim was her boyfriend.
Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!OC
Category: Fluff
Word Count: 1.9k
Note: I really hate writing x reader fics even if it is a oneshot so let me know if you like this? I feel like I have more creative freedom with my oneshots when I have an original character as opposed to trying to keep stuff neutral for it to be reader. That being said, I want to do requested (please send me asks I want to get out of writers block) so if you request reader stuff, I will probably write it.
Anyway this is old and I was thinking of writing an entire fic but I know I never will so you can have the start of it.
Read on Ao3
“C’mon, I don’t see him. He doesn’t have to know.”
She shook her head vehemently, “I’m on my way to meet him now, I already said no. Please just leave me alone.”
Much to her disappointment, though not surprise, he continued to follow her. She peered into the cafe she had planned to go to alone and spotted a man who looked decent and appeared to be alone.
“Baby, you know you want this.”
“Babe!” she called as she hugged the stranger who stiffened in surprise as she whispered, “He has been following for six blocks and won’t leave me alone, please pretend that you’re my boyfriend or something.”
As she pulled away from the hug, they made a brief eye contact before he spoke, “I was just about to send a text asking where you were, did you have trouble getting here?”
She smiled gratefully, “Just running a few minutes late.”
He looked over her shoulder presumedly at the man, “What do you feel like today?”
“I’ll pay this time don’t worry.”
He slipped his arm over her shoulder before he leaned down and whispered, “He’s still here but he’s only watching.”
She nodded before she spoke again, “How do you take your coffee? It’s on me.”
“Just with milk and four sugars,” he replied.
She stepped forward toward the counter, “Can I please have an iced coffee with two pumps of vanilla syrup and a coffee with four sugars?”
The lady behind the counter nodded as they heard a bell at the door, she didn’t dare look to see if he was leaving, but the stranger she was with did, “He’s gone.”
“That’s eight-fifty.”
Smiling, she tapped her card against the machine before she took a step away from the counter and faced the tall stranger, “I’m Aspen and I’m so sorry.”
“Spencer and it’s okay.”
Aspen glanced to the window before she spoke, “He was following me for six blocks and I tried to say I was meeting my boyfriend which I clearly don’t have but he wouldn’t leave me alone so thank you.”
“It’s seriously no problem,” Spencer reassured, “Thanks for the coffee.”
“It was the least I could do,” Aspen shrugged, “Four sugars though?”
He laughed slightly, “I need the energy and I don’t really like how bitter coffee is.”
She raised her brows in amusement, “You need the energy? What are you up to that needs that much energy?”
He studied her for a moment before he spoke, “My job.”
“Very cryptic,” she nodded with amusement.
He let out a laugh, “I’m sorry it’s just I feel like I’m always talking about my job so I’m trialling not talking about it.”
“That’s not a bad policy,” she mused, “I’m always talking about my job too. How about we don’t tell each other what we do and we can try and guess later? That is if you aren’t too busy.”
“I would like that,” Spencer smiled sincerely.
Aspen noticed their order was ready and grabbed it from the counter and rejoined Spencer, “Do you trust me not to kidnap you?”
Spencer raised a brow and let out a slight laugh, “I did until you asked me that.”
She rolled her eyes in amusement and started toward the door, “C’mon, let’s go for a walk. We can get to know each other.”
He followed without any concern of being kidnapped, “So, you do this often? Have coffees with strangers who saved you from creepy men.”
“Depends how many creepy men I have harassing me,” Aspen joked before she glanced toward Spencer and shaking her head, “No, I don’t make a habit of spending day with strangers who save me from creepy men. I hope you don’t make a habit of spending the day with strangers you’ve saved from creepy men.”
He smiled at her joke, “No, not usually.”
Aspen smiled as she tugged scarf tighter, “I didn’t really have much in mind for today, I don’t get many actual days off from work so I decided I would treat myself by buying a coffee. What about you? What were you supposed to be doing today?”
“I had an appointment this morning,” Spencer stated, “But beyond that I didn’t have anything to do today. Well, actually I was given homework from that appointment.”
She raised a brow, “Homework?”
He laughed slightly as they crossed the street, “I was told to have a conversation about something that didn’t pertain to my job.”
“Ah, hence our little game,” Aspen nodded, using her finger to make a small motion between them. “I think my therapist would like yours. I mean I’m assuming that your therapist told you to do that, it sounds very therapisty.”
Spencer mused as Aspen rambled, “I don’t think that’s a word.”
Aspen raised her brows to playfully challenge him, “What are your credentials to say that it isn’t?”
“None,” Spencer gave in, “None of my degrees are in English or Linguistics.”
“Degrees?” Aspen asked, “As in plural degrees?”
He nodded sheepishly, “Yeah, I hold three BAs in Psychology, Sociology and Philosophy and three PhDs in Chemistry, Mathematics and Engineering.”
“So you’re smart-smart,” Aspen nodded, “They’re all so broad too, it doesn’t help with our game.”
“You know what I studied, you have to tell me what you studied,” Spencer decided aloud, “So we’re on even playing field.”
Aspen briefly glanced toward him as they started walking through a park, “What makes you so sure I went to college?”
He shrugged, “You just seem like you did, am I wrong?”
She narrowed her eyes before she spoke, “You’re not. I have my PhD in English Literature. Just the single one though.”
“Oh, so you’re qualified to decide whether things are words or not?” Spencer chuckled.
She nodded feigning seriousness, “Oh, very much so.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Spencer smiled.
Aspen slowed to a stop at a park bench where she sat down, Spencer following her lead, “So, tell me about you Spencer. What else is there to know about you?”
He pressed his lips together as he thought, “I don’t know, I’m not awfully interesting. I have an eidetic memory?”
She tilted her head in curiosity, “Three BAs, three PhDs, an eidetic memory, you’re like some sort of genius.”
“I don’t really think intelligence can be accurately quantified,” Spencer almost recited.
Aspen nodded, “That makes sense. I mean there are different types of intelligence, different areas of knowledge. I mean obviously some people are smarter than others and stuff like IQ tests can measure that to a certain extent but I think I agree. There isn’t really anyway to accurately quantify intelligence.”
He smiled at the well thought-out response, “Exactly. Of course, IQ tests can help measure intelligence but it only really measures your reasoning, problem solving abilities, and capacity to notice and continue patterns. It’s a very narrow perspective on intelligence.”
“I wonder if there are other ways to quantify intelligence,” Aspen pondered, “I mean I don’t know how they would do that but I would be interested in seeing if there were other ways and how they differ.”
Spencer’s eyes almost lit up at her curiosity, “I actually went to a seminar recently about other methods. A lot of the ways to measure intelligence aren’t viewed as accurate ways of quantifying intelligence just because it’s based on empirical evidence but there are actually ways to measure things like reaction time and memory which have a lot to do with intelligence.”
Aspen nodded along as he spoke, hanging onto each of his words, “That’s cool. Maybe it’ll boost my IQ score.”
“I don’t think your IQ actually matters,” Spencer mused.
She shrugged, “Not really, you do seem like the type to know your IQ though.”
“What does that mean?” he spluttered.
She smiled, “Did I hit a nerve? Do you? What is it?”
“One eighty-seven,” Spencer gave in, though there was little pressure to actually do so.
“You’re beating me,” Aspen noted, “By a fair bit too, I’m slacking at one forty-three.”
Spencer raised a brow, “So you’re also the type to know your IQ.”
She shrugged as she looked out at the park, “I am. It wasn’t really an insult; I just get the impression that you’re smart and want people to think so. Not necessarily because you want to prove you’re better than them, more just to prove yourself.”
He narrowed his eyes, “You sound like every therapist I’ve ever seen.”
Aspen snorted at the response, “Sorry, you just sort of remind me of me, but with more doctorates. Also with a higher IQ, we can’t forget about that.”
He nodded seriously, though the smile that played on his lips gave him away, “Of course not, that’s very important.”
She let out a laugh as his phone rang, he checked the caller ID and frowned before he answered, “Hello?”
Aspen couldn’t hear what was being said to him but judging by his expression it wasn’t something he really wanted to hear. As he hung up he frowned.
“I’m really sorry, that was work,” Spencer apologised.
She smiled sympathetically, “It’s okay, do what you need to do.”
Appreciation was written all over his face as he stood up, “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t expecting to be called in today.”
Aspen nodded as she stood up, “Do I still get my guess, before you go?”
He nodded, making a gesture with his hands to show his approval, “Go ahead.”
“So, at first I wasn’t sure at all,” Aspen began, “But, after you listed all your degrees and I saw how smart you were I got the idea that it was probably something important where you have to be pretty intelligent. Now you’re being called in randomly on a Sunday that you definitely expected to have off, and given that we’re in DC, I have to guess FBI.”
He looked surprised as he dug into bag and pulled out a name tag that he passed to her. She read it and saw that it was an FBI ID card, adorned with the name Dr. Spencer Reid and a picture of him that barely bared any resemblance to him.
“Oh my god, you’re a baby in this,” Aspen gushed.
He almost snatched the badge back in embarrassment, “I was twenty-two when that was taken, that was like sixteen years ago.”
“You were cute,” Aspen commented, “Your turn. What do I do?”
Spencer flushed slightly before he started speaking, “You mentioned that you don’t actually get that many days off of work and that you’re always talking about it, given your doctorate in English I would have to guess that you’re some sort of teacher. I haven’t really decided at what level but definitely not elementary or middle school. Either high school or college.”
“I’m a Professor,” Aspen nodded, “Teaching English Literature. So, you’re right on the money, clearly that FBI job suits you.”
He let out a laugh, “Thanks, I think.”
“That is a thanks moment, it was a compliment,” Aspen nodded before she dug into her bag and pulled out a scrap piece of paper and a pen which she quickly scribbled out a message on “Before you go, here is my number. Obviously, you don’t have to use it but if you, I will answer.”
Spencer carefully plucked the piece of paper from her hands, “Thank you. Enjoy the rest of your day off.”
“Enjoy work?” Aspen offered earning a tired smile from Spencer before he left their bench where she sat down with a smile.
93 notes
·
View notes
Text
In Plain Sight, Chapter 7
[Read on AO3]
Obiyukiweek 2023, Day 4: Rejection
Silence falls so thick over the line that even the fuzz from Obi’s side blots out; a total eclipse of sound. It doesn’t click, not the way it does when a call’s been lost-- or worse, severed completely from the other end-- but Shirayuki’s heart pounds so loud in her ears that she can’t trust whether or not she would have heard it if it did. Maybe she’s just been standing here for minutes, holding onto a call long over while paperwork’s churning to make her into someone else’s problem, someone who knows how to deal with a girl who can’t—
“Sorry, Miss.” The word breathlessly fans into static; she’s so happy to hear him that she forgets to flinch. “Connection must have gotten dropped there. Who is this fiancé of yours?”
“You.”
“Ahh...so I did hear that right,” he mutters wearily. “And you’re sure that it’s...? I mean, your neighbors, they think I’m...?”
“Martha-- Mrs Kino, I mean-- she talked to the movers--” Obi groans, a really, terribly distracting noise-- “and she said that they said that when they were hired, it was a man on the phone. And since I don’t have a job lined up, she assumed...?”
Someone had to be paying for it. Not many people would jump to Uncle Sam.
“Right, right.” A sigh fizzles over the phone. “You’ve got a real nosy neighbor there, Miss.”
“I’m sorry.” The mattress at her back is the perfect firmness, but at times like these she wishes it were enough to swallow her whole. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
“No, no. It’s not your fault.” At least this time he sounds amused as well as put out. “That’s just how they make ‘em out here in the greatest state in the union. It’s not like we send you out into the world with top class espionage skills so you can trick the grandma next door.”
No, but she doubts Agent Anda would be pleased to know she tripped right out of the starting gate. “I know, but still. I’ve become a real handful, and I’m sure you’d rather be--”
“Trust me, Miss.” She feels rather than hears the drop in his voice, hitting the register that makes every hair stand up on end. A shiver courses down her spine, and it’s strange that it feels so...good. “Handling you is the highlight of my day. I just always thought I’d be taken out to dinner first. You know, before any marriage proposals.”
“Oh.” She probably shouldn’t be so breathless on what’s, ostensibly, a professional phone call. “Right. Did you want--?”
“Is that all your neighbor knows?”
She blinks. “Um...?”
“That there was a man who hired the movers,” he clarifies, the distant sound of clacking keys filling the silence his voice doesn’t. “I helped you into the house on the first day, did she indicate that I must be your husband, or...?”
“Uh, I don’t...think so?” Though Martha Kino seems like the exact sort of woman who might sit on that sort of information, if only to pull it out as a cute story at a baby shower. “I told them I moved in on my own. You’re supposed to be on a business trip.”
It’s luck and the last shred of her common sense that manages to swallow, and a very good kisser too. It’s bad enough that she can’t forget his stint as Hot Airport Boyfriend, but him knowing she can’t? What pride she has shrivels just thinking about it.
“Right. Right, okay.” His voice gains solid footing now, picking up speed as he tells her, “Don’t worry, Miss. Just let me handle it. I know the perfect husband material.”
*
The sun’s still up when Shirayuki jolts awake, her mouth dry and sticky and tasting like something might have crawled in and died. A terrible beat drums right behind her temples; when she levers up to her elbows, it pounds loud enough her head swims.
Ah, right, water. She needs to hydrate. Because she drank her weight in margaritas at lunch. Aspen may have a face that could be committed to stained glass, radiant halo and all, but those cocktails of hers— well, if any of the folk around here held with the idea that demons could come to you in the guise of an angel, two drinks of that stuff would be proof positive. It’s been years since she’s had anything but a single glass of the fruitiest, most mixed drink at the bar, and yet she’d been tempted into not just one of those margaritas, but—
Shirayuki blinks against the throbbing behind her eyes. Two, wasn’t it? One when she first sat down, another when the sweet tea was just a little too sweet for her tastes. Enough to flirt with her limits, but not dip over-- at least, not at the backyard barbecues back home, or lab happy hours. But maybe now that the humidity could take the Feels Like temperature over three digits, her well-known tipping point has inched itself a little closer to the starting line.
It’d be the best explanation for how terrible her mouth tastes. Shirayuki had never been much of a drinker, not even in her grad school days, but there’s been at least a morning or two where she’s woken up after just one drink too many, and well, it has a flavor just like this. But with only a pre-dinner nap, she can’t have earned this one, not when she couldn’t have possibly had anymore, not after—
Oh god, she told all of them that she had a fiancé. Not just any fiancé, of course, oh not, but a tall, tanned, expert kisser, and she…
Here. Aspen’s angel smile bares teeth. Looks like you might need one of these for the road.
Ah, well. That would definitely explain that. At least it’s nothing a good, carb-heavy dinner couldn’t fix, once the room stopped sloshing at the edges.
With a groan, Shirayuki drags herself upright, wincing at the light leaking through the edges of the blind. Can’t have been sleeping for long if it’s still that bright—
Something slips from the folds of her sheets, clattering onto the floor. Ah, her phone. Of course. Because she’d gotten in the door, and Obi’s sixth sense for trouble must have tingled. He’d called in just to check in, and she…
Shirayuki blinks down at her pillow, at the damp patch where she must have drooled, and— and she doesn’t remember ending the call. Only that one moment she was talking, and the next she was waking up, this foul taste in her mouth. Which could only mean that he— no, that she—
She’d just fallen asleep, mid-call. Like she was some— some small child who wandered off to nap. Oh, she can just imagine the way he’ll grin the next time she sees him, all his long limbs folded over her counter, saying something like, at your size I’m not surprised you need a little nap to make it through the day. And he’ll look at her all sly, all casual, like he wants her to circle the whole of the kitchen to step on his toes, to bunch his shirt in her fists and tell him just what someone her size can do. He’ll look at her like an invitation because—
Oh god, because he’s supposed to. That’s how fiancés look when they’re in their lover’s house. Like they belong.
Her head crashes into the cradle of her palms. Less than a week ago, Shirayuki couldn’t even see the appeal of a kiss, and now here she is, thinking about putting her hands on some— some stranger in hopes he might bend down and let her figure out whether her first try was some fluke, or— or something else. Something almost as terrifying as being hustled out of her home in the dead of night and told that if she wanted to live to see thirty, she’d need to be someone else.
It’s…a lot. Too much. And now he’s her fiancé on top of it all, because she’s never bothered to learn that real life doesn’t give extra credit just for choosing to make it harder.
A sigh slips from her as she crouches, just enough to rescue her phone from where it’s skittered under the bedskirt, and— ah, not the best idea. Not when she’s clearly a few hours out from her last sip of something non-alcoholic. But she’s come too far to turn back now. Oma didn’t raise a quitter.
She didn’t raise a lightweight either, but that’s apparently what she’s got; Shirayuki gets to her knees, trying to get her hand around the edge of the case, and ugh, her stomach rolls up toward her throat, bile burning in the back of her throat, and—
Bzz. Bzz. Bzz. The case beats a soft tattoo against her fingers, muffled but where the screen’s pressed to the floor, and when she flips the screen up, Sugar Daddy blazes across her notifications. meet here @ 11
Sitting back on her heels— ugh, bleh, that position’s not much better— Shirayuki squints into the glare. She can’t possibly be reading that right. Eleven? Tonight? It’s about the mission, she’s sure, it’s just—
It would look bad, wouldn’t it? A young woman slipping out of her house that close to midnight while her partner’s out of town? Reads much less like a professional business meeting, and more like a, er, well, booty call.
Gears churn as she thumbs through to her messages, trying to make teeth catch. It just— it doesn’t make sense. Leaving so late will only put grist in the rumor mill, reaching its peak when her prodigal fiancé arrives, seemingly none the wiser. Unless, of course, he’s relying on that— on the neighbors thinking there’s a third wheel to their bicycle, one that can be disastrously revealed at the most dramatically appropriate moment, and he can go straight back to being her handler, and she can be—
Ah, her messages are finally open. And there’s Obi’s, right at the top— the only, besides a few utilities and some spam— and his latest is already bold in the preview. It unfurls when she swipes over it, mostly just her inquiry into her kitchenware, but the last line is still meet here @ 11. Just that. And, well…
“A link?” Her head tilts, but that does nothing to clarify the context. When she clicks, the map app opens, pointing her straight toward a— “Panera?”
Well, he had said he would like to get taken out to dinner first. She just thought Agent Obi might have higher standard. “Are those even open that late?”
Maybe they are for government employees. Or maybe they keep someone on staff there, just for these sorts of clandestine conversations, the kind that can’t happen over phone lines or during regular business hours. Or—
Her eyes flick up, a reflex more than a conscious thought, catching the time at the corner of the screen. 9:23, it reads, and there’s something about it that makes her take a second glance. The light pouring in from her windows, maybe, too bright for evening, even this far into spring. Or possibly the taste in her mouth, too strong to be from only a few hours of sleep. Whatever it is, her gaze lingers this time, squinting at where the number crouch in the corner, and—
“AM?” she squeaks, stumbling to her feet. “I’ve slept all day?”
With a wild sweep of her arm, she opens the blinds, the bright light of day filtering through, and oh, ah— there’s Mrs Kino, tending her garden. She looks up, a smile wrinkling the corners of her eyes, and waves.
“Haah…” Shirayuki sighs, weakly waving back. “I think…I need to get in the shower.”
*
It’s just lunch.
That’s what she tells herself as the spray pelts her back, water blurring her vision as she hastily scrapes a razor up her leg. It’s just a professional, business lunch at a chain restaurant. Not even a true sit-down experience, but…fast casual, the sort of thing that might make a nice date in undergrad, when you don’t have the time or the resources to do much besides look at each other for an hour.
Certainly nothing that she needs to put herself out for, she thinks as she skims lotion up her thighs, spreading the scent of passionflower and hibiscus far past any decent hemline. Not that she’s worried about that— hemlines and what might go past them. No, it’s just…it had been a while since she shaved, and if you shave, then you have to hydrate, and if she’s going to pamper herself, well, her nicest moisturizer is a good start.
Because it’s not a date. It’s not even coffee. Not that she would have coffee, she reminds herself, flicking through her dresses. Caffeine gives her the jitters, and the last thing she needs is to make her hands any more unsteady, or her stomach any more unsettled. There’s no reason to worry about how so many of her nicer clothes fall more on the work-appropriate side of the fashion scale rather than, er…play appropriate. This is all just a…a preliminary meeting to go over the details of this whole situation. An exchange of information before he commits to this whole…fake engagement.
So there’s no need to look cute, she insists, tugging at her most stubborn flyaways in the rearview mirror. After all, then he might think she’s trying to impress him. And if he thinks she wants to impress him, he might assume that she’s attracted to him. That maybe she’s angling to repeat that kiss in the airport, the one that had sent static through every limb of her body, the one she can’t possibly forget—
And that would be ridiculous. Shirayuki doesn’t do attraction, at least not the way other people do. She doesn’t just look at someone and decide they might be nice to touch, or that maybe she wouldn’t mind if they leaned close enough for her to catch a hint of their natural scent, or quiver just at the idea that he might close the space between them, brushing his lips over hers as gently as he had the first time, swallowing her gasp whole as he coaxes her to—
Ah! She claps a hand to her cheek, glass door jingling shut behind her. Not even the air conditioning helps cool her flush. The last thing she needs is Obi to see her like this, flushed and trembling just from the thought of him. Which is good since, with a quick scan of the shop, Shirayuki knows…
He’s not here.
*
There’s an explanation for this, she’s sure. He could be late, for one; Obi doesn’t strike her as the sort of person who feels the need to be fifteen minutes early to be on time. So it makes sense that he could simply be lagging few minutes behind, caught up in a traffic snarl or running a little after schedule because he wanted to catch the last few minutes of a show. He could even be in his car right now, tangled up in the tail end of a story on NPR, just wanting to hear whether or not the girl on antimalarials ever regained her memory, or if that illegally adopted baby from Korea ever actually found his parents.
There, a half-dozen reasons right off the top of her head for him to be elsewhere. And still, she can’t shake the feeling that she’s been, well, stood up.
“Ah, excuse me?”
She blinks. Oh, she’s standing right in front of the door.
“Sorry,” she blurts out, barely thinking. A shuffle scoots her clear of the vestibule. “Wasn’t paying attention.”
“Hah, no, that’s not…” The man beside her huffs out a laugh, shoving a hand through a mop of blond so pale she’s only ever seen it on kids under three.
“You must be Shirayuki.”
That gets her attention. “Who…?”
There’s nothing about that boyish face that says mobster, but that doesn’t mean much, when she hasn’t seen any outside of The Departed. Still, there’s no snake tattoo crawling up his wrist— one of the sure signs of one of Umihebi’s men, according to Agent Anda— his nice button down only baring milky pale skin up to the elbow. And there’s no malice in his smile, only teeth so white she swears they sparkle, and eyes that crinkle at the corners, so dark a blue she almost mistakes them for black.
“Sorry, I’m doing this all backwards. I’m Zen.” He thrusts out a hand, palm refreshingly cool against hers. “Zen Wisteria. And I believe I’m your” —his smile hooks up at one side, as bashful as the little bounce he does on his toes— “future husband.”
Shirayuki blinks at him. What had Obi said on the phone yesterday? I know the perfect husband material.
“Excuse me,” she murmurs tightly. “But I think I’d like your badge number.”
#obiyukiweek23#day 4#obiyuki#akagami no shirayukihime#snow white with the red hair#witness protection au#my fic#ans#eheheheheheheheheheheheheheeh >:3c
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
LITTLE BABY THING A WEEK 2 REVIEW
flickr - i think this song is super silly. it sounds very somber and serious but its just images. thank you mr. coulton.
resolutions - everything about this song fills me with dread. just completely unavoidable stress. the fear of a new year combined with the slowed background and robotic voice does something to my head. and the counting. its like. oughhh. i can’t properly describe this songs effects on my psyche but know it Has Them.
you could be her - THIS SONG IS SO FUCKING REAL. i can feel everything the song sets up the main character to feel. all of the awful monotony and stuff. this song just reminds me of winter in the most evil way. somewhere theres a hell that was meant for me and i think ive found it #justgirlythings
i will - the only correct way to listen to the beatles
dance, soterios johnson, dance - he didnt have to go THIS hard. this one also makes me think of my foul best friend/gay lover aspen. i could fuck this song UP at karaoke. literally the most song ever. a never ever skip for me no matter the circumstances
so far so good - this is one of what i call “songs i want to listen to while slowly drifting out to the sea, drink in hand.” fills me with joy and hope but at the same time the deepest, saddest pit you’ve ever felt
curl - i think curl goes crazy despite being full red white and blue blooded american and having no interest in curling or canadians. i love it more when its live with paul and storm
chiron beta prime - my (tied) favorite joco song EVER. my first favorite joco song. chiron beta prime is very straightforward and has little room for interpretation to me but sometimes you NEED a good goofy lil sci fi song. the best. concert. ever. version with joco’s muppet laugh and andy bates is the best thing imaginable its joyous
take care of me - this song makes me really upset. he writes songs so real sometimes. he played that accordion solo for real himself i think
a talk with george - this song absolutely grew on me after hearing it live. made me really really really fucking emotional. the way he introduced it too was. ouuuughh the white man and his emotion provoking tunes. it makes my heart hurt
don’t talk to strangers - i don’t listen to this song enough. thank you dad joco
stroller town - i don’t think this song is real. i think i hallucinated this song entirely. i mean it’s not bad. his voice makes my brain go weird
re: your brains: i have the re: your brains shirt. anyway my best friend/divorced gay lover aspen have had many a conversation about the homosexual legitimacy of crazy dave and dr. zomboss from plants vs. zombies because of this song
thing a week 2 might be my favorite thing a week? i haven’t heard the others in a while so i’ll get back to you. but it does go INSANE. it’s got a ton of just amazing songs and some like. pretty good to okay songs. overall i love thing a week 2 so sweetly
7 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey! Kind of an odd one, and totally cool if it's not something you have the bandwidth for!
Your pics of Sok's enclosure have popped up on my dash a couple times and it looks great! I saw one where you talked about making it bioactive, and it piqued my interest!
I've heard some pretty mixed things about bioactive setups for KSBs, so it's not something I've looked into much, but mine has been struggling to get his eyecaps off during sheds lately, so I'm looking for ways to up the humidity...
Do you recommend the bioactive enclosure? Any helpful tips or resources for someone looking to do the same? :)
I highly recommend a bioactive for kenyan sand boas!
Due to their name, there is unfortunately a persistent misunderstanding in their care in my opinion. Their scales don't do well in bone dry enclosures, and they do need higher humidity, unlike western hognoses that are extremely prone to scale rot. Their range overlaps with ball pythons in some areas, and they have similar scales. Kenya has an average humidity of 70%.
In a dry enclosure with aspen, he was having extreme shedding issues even with many kinds of humid hide and starving himself to where his spine was visible, to the point I had to imprison him in dry baby jail (tupperware with a moist rag) for hours, and it still damaged them. I switched to a mix of 1/3 coco coir, 1/3 soil, and 1/3 sand ish with reptile safe leaves kept slightly moist and his scales are beautifully healed, perfect sheds, and he's a plump lil bean, great eater. He's never had scale rot either.
What you want to avoid is standing water, wet-wet soil can cause scale rot and root rot of the plants. The plants help with that though a ton. Pothos of any kind are amazing for enclosures, other plants I've had hit or miss experiences with. Tradescantia zebrina I've just experimented with recently, and it seems to be a good option as well. A linear UVB will grow them, but since sand boas don't really appear in the day, plant LEDs will make the enclosure thrive. Springtails are essential for cleaning up any organic decay, I've had trouble getting isopods to breed, but they're less necessary.
I use a 75-100 watt heat bulb on thermostat depending on the season, and a mini heatmat on thermostat on the warm side at 85 F for nighttime temps. This also helps the water evaporate and such. He absolutely adores his rocks that are under the heatlamp in the day, since they're warm at night and he can cuddle em.
To water the enclosure, I sprinkle water on the top layer when it looks dry (can also poke your finger in let it feel dryish to second knuckle), the hot side more often than the cold side since it evaporates more. It then makes its way down gradually and tunnels will hold, without having the risk of standing water at the bottom of the enclosure where he's at. That's what can promote anoxic conditions and harmful compounds from dead bacteria and stuff. I don't recommend a drainage layer since they burrow and they'll make their way in and get stuck in it. Maybe every two months I take out all the plants and decor (and him) and stir the dirt too, folding it so the bottom dirt is on top and vice versa and adding more dried leaves and bits of sphagnum. During that time you can also replace a portion of the soil with fresh stuff.
Hope it helps :D
3 notes
·
View notes
Note
hi hi hi hi Sleepy!!! could you give me a poetry verse with the thematic Bubbles? I think it's a fun concept!
also here's a picture of my dog Kipper
he wanted to eat the last slice of my pizza but it wasn't for dogs (obviously)
ummm tell me what's the craziest thing your characters have revealed to you! And also tell us about a blorbo of other writers that you absolutely adore!!
i hope you are having a good day/night!
@ink-fireplace-coffee
Kipper is very cute. A+ dog.
I absolutely adore Aspen, from The Stray Spirit, obviously. what's not to love? turns into cute animals, is very excitable, models themself after Emry a lot and he's a handsome man, you get the idea that their voice sounds like coming home and your inner child and also starlight. Apsen. adore them. a prime suspect for fanfic also.
Jae's speech impediment wasn't crazy, exactly, but it did make so much sense for his character. I figured it out one day at work, and his whole character clicked.
uh, and I randomly decided one day that Wryn's skin should be dark blue. it just made sense to me, and this is a fantasy wip, after all. if I'm not gonna have other fancy races I need to at least have fun skin colors. one of these days I'm gonna have a fantasy wip with ogres and elves and faeries and stuff, just not yet. but yeah, Wryn has dark blue skin, and it's normal.
I had to reactivate my scrivener before I could give you a poem, but here you go! the closest I have is "ellipses of thought no.10":
I was considering: the heaviness of air,
the touch of damp upon the stair,
the empty promise of rain,
the worn out jeans and dirt stains,
the shoes with grass on the soles,
the fingertips through jacket holes -
the quiet of a sleeping house,
the need to grouse,
the want to be heard,
the yearning for answers -
the satisfaction of washing dishes,
the twinkling hope on soap bubble wishes,
the hours and hours,
overgrown bushes and cut flowers;
consider them considered,
those dreams sliced with scissors:
here’s a piece for me, here’s a piece for you.
last week was A. WEEK. and this week has also, so far, been A. WEEK. but I think I'll make it out alive. love you!
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hey! I swear I saw FLORENCE PUGH last night but it was just ELLI CONNORS. The TWENTY-SIX year old CISFEMALE SHE/HER is a UNEMPLOYED/ARTIST living in THE LOOP. I heard they're CATACLYSMIC, but also AUDACIOUS.
hello loves i'm aspen and i cannot wait to plot and write with you all! I hope you enjoy my bby elli she is quite literally the biggest hot mess i've created.
PINTEREST | CONNECTIONS
biography
parents were music producers and really wanted their children to go into the industry, only elli doesn’t have a musical bone in her body; not that she didn’t try.
found her own creative outlet in the form of painting or sketches. In the last year she has started selling her paintings under a different name and she’s catching a following and making some money. growing up she felt a bit trapped behind her sister's shadow, and often acted out making very impulsive choices that had their mother swearing elli couldn’t actually be theirs's. Like changing her name from Ella to elli when she was 18. It wasn’t until elli went to college that she felt like she finally found herself. there, el dabbled more in other extracurricular activities & parties than she did studies for the first two years. probably only got her act together & graduated due to a friend giving her a lecture. She graduated with a degree in business and a minor in art, and much to her parents' dismay elli refused to help them with any of their businesses. after graduation she absolutely did not apply herself & definitely jumped from place to place. job to job. in her mind “experiencing life “.Elli’s gift in life is that when everything seems to be finally working out for her she has to self-sabotage. She does not believe that she deserves good things. earlier this year, her mother found out that her dad was helping find her moves when she inevitably hit rock bottom to which she was given an ultimatum to move in with her sister in chicago or be disowned. And despite her actual need to argue with her family she couldn’t imagine life without them so she sucked it up and moved in with Willa.
other facts tw:drugs
Elli is embodies golden retriever energy when it comes with her friends though that’s not to say she doesn’t have her moments where she can be an ass. she definitely loves with her whole heart.
When she does contact her friends its usually pictures of a dog she’s seen or cat. maybe a meme
loves to be the life of the party when she’s in the mood, but also can distance herself to the corner.
she’s actually pretty smart, but hardly ever applies herself.
TW:DRUG ADDICTION has a drug problem when things get hectic in her life & tends to relapse. She has had a two rehab stints.
needs reminded to eat & sleep when she hyper focuses on stuff
Her golden retriever bart is her actual child.
honestly loves knock-knock jokes AND dad jokes. they’re her favorites.
can majorly self-destruct. she is queen of it.
shameless flirt, but actually committing? yeah, self-destruct button.
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Do n/ot rebl/og! :o
As stated, First delivery of my hamster haul has arrived. 🐹
Whole lot of paper bedding (Two 49-50 liter bags of it), a sandbath fitted for dwarfs because I’m familiar with raising those, some sand to go in that thing (that brand of reptile sand is safe for hamsters and not dusty) and a little bridge to make a hidey hole in bedding.
I should have everything by Monday, my cage, wheel, and other things (like enrichment toys) will be tomorrow, but I won't get the good-quality food I ordered until that day, since as opposed to the stuff I posted it is coming from New Mexico, so outside Texas. But I can probably substitute pet store feed for it once I got the essentials, tho it usually sucks quality-wise. I did a lot of research to try and get good stuff.
Also I just found out we still have fresh Aspen bedding from my last hamster from years ago that hasn't been opened. I could mix that with the paper bedding if I wanted. I am nervous about the paper bedding as that can be hit or miss in quality on delivery as of late compared to when I used it years ago but it never let me down yet. I got Kaytee instead of Carefresh this time because I heard it was a little less dusty nowadays compared to the latter, but I’ll speak of that when I can actually set up the cage.
#Em Speaks#Personal Things#Hope ya'll don't mind me breaking away from muppets to talk about my personal life again lol#I always looked at the amazon reviews for the stuff I bought#I still see Kaytee and Carefresh recommended for hamsters now so it's a gamble since the reviews are a lot more mixed now than before#and yes this is the first photo I ever posted here. No. you are never getting a face reveal sdfghjk
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Ghosts of Windy Ridge
This is the scene for the morning of day one. These posts will have a lot of meta stuff above the cut in the early days of the story, but as characters and locations are introduced, those sections get shorter and shorter. Lots of the evening/night turns get posted together because I ended up skipping the night turn or using it as a summary.
I'd been playing Over the Mountain as a different character in a paper journal, so I had the dice-rolling mechanics worked out. For the novel project, I used a set of five dice. The d4 determines how many 'components' are in a turn. The four components possible in a turn are locations, neighbors, items and events.
The other four dice worked in pairs. The translucent cobalt blue d20/d6 pair was rolled for neighbors and events. The opaque green d20/d6 pair indicated locations and items. My initial theory was that I'd roll all five and if it was a single component turn, then whichever one had the higher d6 reaction would be the one I used.
My backstory has neighbor #20 as the Ghost of Mo, so I made a rule that if I rolled to encounter that neighbor before the half-way point, I'd re-roll. Half way was nominally turn #60.
Despite having a solid theory of how I'd use dice rolls, it was blown out of the water when the very first roll was for a single component turn, location #16, "the cave" with a reaction of 3, or neighbor #15, "spirit of the local forest" with a reaction of only two. It made no sense to open the story by going to "the cave" so instead I named the local forest spirit Shawasha, whose voice sounds like the wind in the trees...
1 April 2022, Friday Morning
I slept pretty well in that tiny bedroom and then was delighted to find the hot water in the bathroom came on quick and showed no sign of giving out during my shower. Time for a deep soak later. For today, I'll get out and about at some point, but for now I'm going to have my coffee and check in with the cards.
While I was steaming the soy milk, I heard a voice. I thought it was a voice, anyway. The noise of the rushing steam drowned out most other sounds. And again, a raspy thing, almost words coming out of the froth. I looked around but saw nothing. Still, the hairs on the back of my neck raised up a bit in an uneasy chill.
Steaming complete, I cleaned the nozzle and poured the coffee and milk into my Tarot Symposium mug. Before I could choose a deck for the morning read, the hissing sound, like the wind in the leaves, came back and this time the words were clear, "Ssssstranger! You ssshould leave usss!"
"Hello?" I called out, trying to sound friendly. "My name is Serren and I'm only visiting for the month. What's your name?" I looked around again and still didn't see anyone, but I could tell now that it must be a spirit of some sort. In all my years of reading Tarot, I've only had a few spirits talk to me directly. Even though this one sounded upset, I am going to take it as a good sign that spirits are talking to me here. Maybe that means I'll hear from Mo after all.
I listened for the hiss again, but it was quiet except for a sighing wind outside in the trees. Turning my attention to my Tarot deck, the first card I pulled out was the Page of Swords. The Page characters are message-bringers, and swords refer to both the element of air and to more intellectual pursuits. "Hello?" I called again, hoping that the spirit would come back with some kind of message.
"Ssssssserren..." the voice began. "I am Ssshawhasssha, guardian of the local assspen treesss and I do not want you to ssstay."
"A pleasure to meet you, Shawasha. Your aspen trees are beautiful! I'm only here for the month, maybe less if you can help me talk to my friend Mo?" I figured that if Shawasha wants to get rid of me that badly, maybe they'd be willing to get me an inside spirit hotline.
The room filled with that wind-in-the-leaves sound, growing ever louder. I was just about to cover my ears and then it suddenly stopped. Shawasha had gone.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
※ SHIT YOUR LOCAL ENBY HAS HEARD: FRIENDS & FAM EDITION
a thrilling saga of shit i’ve heard over the years from friends and family, as well as some dumb shit i’ve said, myself. may include nsfw material. feel free to change names/pronouns/etc.! more ‘shit i heard/said’ starters!
" just casually spills all your shit."
"your hair is autumn, you bleed pumpkin spice."
"i can’t believe you're sexually attracted to plankton."
"i'm an adult, i'm the oldest person in this house.”
"---yeah, you're a dinosaur.”
"don't make me shake my fist at you!"
"oH NO, IT WAS MORE EFFECTIVE THAN I THOUGHT!”
"you wound me right in the baratiddies."
"you can't threaten me, i'm not looking!"
"oh no, it's jammed --- and peanut buttered!"
"they know how to get to his/her heart and his/her pants."
"try and keep a low profile now that you've, like-- murdered a bunch of people while protecting my food."
"is that a knife in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"
"I DONT CONTROL THE DICE."
“i dO N' T CO N TR OL TH E E G G S.”
"gIVE ME THE CLUES, BITCH."
"(name), GET OUT OF MY ASS!”
"don't you face at me in that tone of voice."
"joey mac/(name) has a jawline for days that could cut glass."
"i got possessed by (name) because i saw (name) and went ‘oh that’s a dADDY’."
"don't grow up, guys, don't do it, it's not worth it.”
"i don't have college, i have depression!!"
"bandit and cinders snatched my heart, odd snatched my uwus, aND YELLOW AND RIVER SNATCHED MY ASS, CAN I GET AN AMEN--"
"who needs pants when you're drunk as a skunk?"
"cause of death: pussy."
"does 'sharkboy and lavagirl' exist in the twilight universe, and if so, does everyone just look from sharkboy to jacob and just be like ‘bruh what the fuck’?”
"dID YOU DRAW A D I C K ON YOUR PASTRY--"
"we all need a lap to sit on, and a shoulder to cry on."
"i read the second one as 'i don't steal sluts'.”
"no-one's dead, nothing broke, iT'S F I NE!”
"IT'S OVER ANAKIN, I HAVE THE THIGH GROUND.”
“give a man a fire, and he’ll be warm for a day. set a man on fire, and he’ll be warm for the rest of his life.”
"if you're not at least a lil’ bit gay for your friends when they get a haircut, are you really friends, though?"
"that shit hURTED."
"this is harder than my dick!”
"songs that get white people - and (name) - turnt."
"technically speaking, another term for 'sugar daddy' could be 'glucose father'.”
"it's not that your mom doesn't love you, it's just that she's kind of a bitch.”
"i don't like that my first thought upon pulling these dayquil pills out of the package was just 'ah yes, big and juicy'.”
". . . i heard 'big and goosey'.”
"the hills are not alive with the sound of music, they're dead with the sound of me wheezing while walking uphill in the cold.”
"i would've kissed bill directly on his eye mouth thing.”
"hate is a special kind of love you give to people who suck.”
"make sure you hang up your stocking so cupid can leave heart-shaped candy and pieces of cardstock with pictures of Cars 2(TM) characters.”
"the joke flew over his/her head just like everything else because s/he's tiny."
"i've had this poster for like, sixteen years--"
"that's longer than i've been mentally stable."
"sir, are you aware that you're a rat?"
"aladdin is the real tiger king."
"(name), i am begging you, you dumb fuck---"
“oh god, chucky’s indian--”
"hard times for covo the clown, he's just on the corner selling face masks, balloons, and crack-- oh and meth."
"it's fine to eat if you're nOT A COWARD-- SALMONELLA WHOMST?"
"i just want to pee, you monster, leT ME PEE!!"
"don't trash the highways, trash Canada instead."
"it took me almost a year, but i now know (name)’s love for graham crackers and i can exploit it."
"my words go fast to make up for the fact that my tiny legs cannot."
“i hate how, in my head, it just sounded like hank hill was possessed or voiced by matthew mcconaughey.”
"gross encounters of the third kind, if you will."
#ask meme#sentence starters#indie rp#inbox meme#rp meme#rp ask#rp ask meme#askbox meme#askbox starters#rp sentence meme#sentence starter meme#rp sentence starters#inbox memes#indie starters#rp inbox meme#stuff aspen has heard
68 notes
·
View notes
Text
Century Panic: Bright
AN: Im sorry for the short chapter, im a little busy with life but still wanted to get some stuff out lollll
I OWN NO RIGHTS TO ANY SONGS USED OR PEOPLE IN THIS SERIES
Warnings: swearing, a lil bit of Calum being rude and shit
Word Count: 871
Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Female Reader
My phone rang as soon as I got to the car, it was an unknown number, so i answered it. ``You move on fast don't you darling? What a shame because you could've had the world with someone well known.`` At that moment, I knew it was Calum. I didn't say a thing. Just hung up. Jake looked over at me questionably, and grabbed my hand. ``What was that? You looked annoyed honey``. I sighed looking down at his hand in mine, ``oh it was just Calum, trying to start shit. Like he always does. He thinks this is just a fight and make up. It's not happening. I want you, and just you`` I said while squeezing his hand. He smiled at me, ``No matter what anyone says to you, I will love you for as long as you want me too. I promise. Not going anywhere baby.``
It took about an hour to get back to the house. On the way there I warned him about our writing sessions and how no one has sat in ever, so this was a first for all of us. As well as, how the girls are. I promised everything would be fine though, so no worries there. Once we got home, he about shit his pants, the house is huge to begin with. I mean 4 girls live there, gotta be big. He came over and opened my door before I could even get out to help with his bags. My heart melted, no ones ever done that for me. I went to open my trunk to grab his bag, and all i heard behind me was a ``nuh huh`` so I turned around and Jake came and carried his bag, with a little smirk on his face and said ``lead the way ma lady.`` I giggled and led him to the front door. As soon as I opened the door, Aspen came running. ``Oh my god, you're here! Hi! Im Aspe, we met once but that was really it. This is Lacey, and Briar. Okay I assume you're staying in y/n`s room, but there's an extra room you can keep your stuff in if you want that has a dresser.`` I laughed and said ``Okay Pen, give him a chance to breathe`` she looked back at me and said laughing, ``No you're right, i'm so sorry``. Briar chimed in, ``Is this your first time in LA?`` Jake smiled at her and nodded. ``Well I'll make sure y/n takes you to all the best spots.`` Lacey said to Jake. He laughed and said ``thank you, I'm sure she'll take me loads of places``. I took Jake upstairs, and showed him my room, he set his bag down and looked at me and said, ``Do you wanna take a nap?`` Obviously I did, so that's just what we did. Napped for 2 hours. Jake had settled in pretty quick, he found it funny how close the girls and I really were. I mean we obviously show it, but no one sees us behind closed doors. Aspen and I remind him of him and his twin; Josh. Lacey`s a little like Sammy, and Briar is Danny. It's funny to me how he puts us into the same categories as his friends/siblings. Makes me feel good, and he feels welcomed.
Soon enough, 8pm rolls around. I looked at my clock and then back to Jake, ``so my dear sir, now is the time where we all get together in the kitchen and work on writing out new songs and melodies. You're welcome to join us, or you can stay in here and watch tv or even go to bed.`` Before he could respond I heard Aspen outside my door, singing, ``y/n its magic tiiiiiime``. Jake laughed and got out of bed, ``well baby doll, duty calls now doesn't it?`` With that, I walked downstairs with my songwriting book and met the rest of my band in the kitchen. Jake sat next to me, quietly, just listening to us rattle our brains. Two hours had gone by, and we had the entirety of a song. Aspen looked up from her guitar, with a quick smirk at Jake, said to me ``Jake, without you, I don't think this song would be a thing.`` He sat there just with the biggest grin on his face, I was blushing. I didn't quite know what to say, as I was thinking, i heard jake go ``You're welcome, I just helped create a hit.`` We all laughed at him, ``Bright. Well call it bright.`` I said towards the girls. ``Perfect! Girl I don't know what we'd do without you, we all suck with names. And here you are just instantly coming up with the shit`` Lacey said while laughing. We all slowly got our things picked up, and headed off to bed.
Jake and I got into bed and had the office on tv while cuddling. He leaned down, kissed my head and said a very simple line from our song we just wrote, ``I think the universe is on my side.`` And just like that, I had fallen asleep in the most comforting and safest feelings I had ever felt.
#jake kiszka au#jake kiszka imagine#jake kiszka#jake gvf#jake kiszka smut#jake kiszka x reader#josh kiszka au#josh kiszka smut#josh gvf#josh kiszka imagine#josh kiszka#sammy kiszka au#sammy kiszka smut#sammy kiszka imagine#sammy kiszka#danny wagner au#danny wagner#greta van fleet smut#greta van fleet imagines#greta van fleet au#greta van fleet imagine#greta van fleet#gret van fleet fanfiction#gvf fanfiction#peaceful army
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
Interview 02: Junior and Paps
This one got a bit long but the rest is under the cut!
Hi and thank you for taking the time to have this interview with me!
Paps: No sweat at all.
Junior: Besides we live here?
Right, of course. Anyways, what are your names and roles on the team?
Junior: I’m Junior and I work in the field to take care of all of your paranormal and supernatural problems.
Paps: You’re not the only one who does that, Junior. I also work in the field along with researching any of the cases we’re working on and building and repairing equpiment. And I’m Paps.
Great! And… Wow. That’s a big workload. So what got you both interested in ghost hunting?
Junior: The moment I heard there were reports of paranormal and supernatural activity, I knew we had to be a part of that. I basically live and breathe paranormal stuff!
Paps: Napstaton doesn’t count as paranormal stuff.
Junior: Wha- Hey! I’m just saying I’ve been reading up on this stuff since I was a kid! A lot of the books that were in the library were from the surface and some were about the paranormal and supernatural. While I do know a lot about spirits, I actually know a whole lot more about supernatural stuff.
Paps: I followed in my brother’s footsteps except for getting into the supernatural stuff.
Wow, that’s really interesting! What exactly do you know about?
Junior: Obviously the typical vampires and werewolves. And Mothman.
Mothman…? But he’s an urban legend.
Junior: He’s totally not! There’s a lot of theories and reports on Mothman. He’s just as real as ghosts!
Paps: Which, you know, would have been weird to say if there’s been a lot of reports of ghosts being seen.
Junior: Mothman’s not an urban legend at all! He’s just… a cryptid.
A cryptid…?
Junior: Yeah! It’s a creature whose existence has been suggested but has not been discovered or documented by the scientific community. Usually they all come from folklore.
Oh okay, thanks! You learn something new every day. Anyways, what was that commotion earlier?
Junior: Oh Cyrus and Rus? Yeah, Rus accidentally broke one of the equipment that had some toxic stuff in it and Cyrus was mad. Actually, he’s always been mad and grumpy. He’s almost worse than Pyre, Mal, and Aspen.
I take it you don’t like Cyrus at all?
Paps: I mean… He’s alright. He’s just impatient, grumpy, and a little irritable. But he genuinely cares about his brother.
Junior: Who’s also a bit estranged from him. I don’t think even Aster likes him.
Paps: Junior, come on, not in front of an interviewer.
Junior: But it’s true! Who would want to be around someone like him? I take it back. He’s sort of the worst.
Oh wow… Sorry, I hit a nerve there.
*Junior takes a deep breath.
Junior: It’s fine… He really didn’t have to make me feel stupid with that comment he made to me.
Paps: I’m sure he didn’t mean to. He’s probably just stressed from our first mission.
Do you guys normally get along with the others?
Paps: Oh definitely. Some of them are fun to tease though like Mal.
Junior: Aw, come on, Paps. You should take it easy on him.
Paps: Practice what you preach, Junior.
*Junior huffs.
Paps: But yeah. I don’t have a lot of problems with the others. Junior though doesn’t really like the guys who look all rugged.
Junior: They just have the worst attitudes ever! It’s so hard to be in a room with them! But I like Aster and Rus, even if Rus is… really nervous at times.
Paps: Rus is chill to hang out with. You just gotta be patient with him.
*A refrigerator door opens.
Do you think you’ll be able to work well together even if you don’t get along with some of them?
Paps: We can at least try to.
Junior: Yeah! We just have to put aside our differences for the time being. Wait. What is he- Jasper! That’s my lunch!
Jasper: Really? I didn’t see your name on it.
Junior: It’s my leftovers from last night! I was planning to eat it today!
Jasper: Aww, boohoo.
Junior: Oh that’s it!
*Junior gets up and storms to the kitchen and a lot of arguing and bickering happens. Paps awkwardly glances between that and the interviewer. He digs into his pockets and holds out something.
Paps: Heh, uh… Wanna a sucker?
9 notes
·
View notes
Note
What's a weird thing that your ocs and the skele bros can do? Like a off talent.
A weird thing huh? I'm not usually good at coming up with weird off talents for characters, but I hope this list for the skeleton OCs, the Sanses and the Papyruses will be enough!
- All the Sanses are oddly good at stacking stuff.
- I mean... do you count Calliope and Aster being animal magnets?
- Rus and Cyrus both have good hearing and can play along with a song they're hearing for the first time or play a song they heard for the first time perfectly. They also can memorize an entire play or movie.
- Ambrose and Rus can prove that yes, you can trip on literally everything! They're accident prone.
- Mal's one of those dudes who will do a taste test of wine and coffee and know what they are. To be more of an ass about it, he will list the flavors of it. Paps and Jasper make it their mission to make the worst concoction ever. They want this man to not be able to name all of their ingredients.
- Morgan, Nico, Paps, and Papyrus have a really good aim. They're like one of those people who can throw trash from an impossible angle or distance but make it work.
- Jasper can uh... squirt in a lot of packets of mustard in his mouth.
- Pyre is that guy who makes a Rube Goldberg machine but for playing a song. He also is a quick learner if something is demonstrated to him so he can probably dance just as good as Paps.
- Oh yeah and Paps is the best dancer out of everyone and the Papyruses. Papyrus and Cyrus are tied for second best.
- Junior will parkour off of everything. He also has the best hand-eye coordination so if he accidentally knocks something over, he'll catch it before it hits the ground and breaks.
- Pine and Aspen are like Mal, but with food and is less insufferable.
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'm not sure if that's a good thing
“Well you’re definitely the first.”
This past week, we screened-in the eastern facing porch on the side of the cabin. The porch slopes to the South, with the brick-on-dirt floor crumbling in that direction as well until it reaches uneven slabs of stone acting as steps down to the “yard” below. A mixed material retaining wall wraps beneath the steps to the south facing garage, holding up one corner of the narrow deck on the front of the house. The deck, in the heat of a high altitude summer, droops off the house like it’s daydreaming about the winter snow’s embrace. It’s safe to sit on, though I would not recommend leaning on the railing.
The side porch takes the brunt of the wind. Our wooden rocking chairs have been rocked some 20 feet into the yard more than once in the two months we lived here. In the myriad of threats we heard about the weather, most people included the wind. We all know how I feel about this ongoing weather intimidation tactic. I asked, “what speed are the gusts?”
“Oh, they get up to 70 miles per hour on some days.”
This was the first quantifiable piece of weather information someone had offered — an actual number we could react to with data and our historical personal experiences of various weather events. And our reaction was: uhhhh…. OK????
Look, I get it. No one’s preaching the skin benefits of -20 degree wind gusts at 70 mph, building snow drifts against your house in the span of minutes that Cooper could die in. I am not going to pretend that’s pleasant. But 70 mph? Any wind I’ve driven faster than does not intimidate me. I used to rally the horses at 12 years old in winds over 70mph to get them in the barn before the latest tornado whipped through. I helped shutter the resort in the BVI as the Category 5 hurricane rolled in. Even in Topanga, 70 mile per hour gusts were not uncommon in Santa Ana events. We had our single pane windows shatter more than once from debris in the wind. We taped cardboard up and went to sleep.
That “70 mph” was all I needed to hear to confirm our next project: we were going to build a catio for these cats, and we were going to do it on the pre-existing porch structure to save time and money.
We spent a week framing out the structure. We had to carve into the logs of the house to embed the wood supports for the framing.
And from there, every piece of wood was custom carved and cut to fit around the existing timber supports. The existing porch was so wildly uneven that there are gaps between each piece of old wood and the new framing. Our plan is to mix all the wood chips from the project with mortar/chinking and stuff the gaps — a good solution for the log cabin look. We built a plywood pony wall up to 28 inches from the interior of the porch, which gives a height of ~4-5ft from the exterior ground below. It’s capped with a 2x6” railing for even the fluffiest of cats to find a perch. The exterior will be wrapped with corrugated metal that we’ll quick-age to match the metal that wraps the bottom of the cabin. On the interior of the porch, we’ll use shiplap to hide the framing.
The screens themselves can withstand winds up to 120 mph, but to-be-determined if they can hold the weight of a growing maniac cat who has already tried to climb them. In the event the screens succumb to cat (or wind or snow or neighbor judgment) we’ll reinforce with metal mesh. We’re going to maintain this screen porch regardless of what the screen is.
We had the pleasure of running into one of our more industrious neighbors the other day, and Ben asked him, “hey we’re building a screen porch. Is this a terrible idea?”
He laughed. “Well you’re definitely the first.” But he liked it. Great way to diminish wind into the house. Simple way to regulate the temperature with massive south-facing windows. And indeed a practical outdoor safe haven for cats in predator territory. Just because you’re the first doesn’t mean you’re foolish — just foolhardy. There’s plenty of that here.
This town has the typical mountain town’s truncated version of a colonizers’ history: “established 1881.” But it was plenty established prior to that by the Uncompahgre Band of the Ute Nation, removed by the U.S. Army on September 7, 1881, nearly 140 years ago. The government relocated the Uncompahgre Ute People to Utah, and one year after the Ute were forcibly removed from their ancestral land, San Miguel County split off from Ouray County and was made its own political subdivision in the newly-formed State of Colorado.
In 1879, the ore-laden valley already had 50 people living in it, with a new narrow gauge railway only 2 miles away. By 1885, it was a town of 200 people. There was a hotel, a couple saloons, a pool hall. Winters were treacherous; the valley was and is prone to avalanches. But where there’s gold, there’s gumption. The power needed to run the stamp mill to process ore drove innovation. Timber was scarce at such high elevations, so a wood powered steam mill wouldn’t cut it. But the San Miguel River just a few miles down from the mine looked promising. Thus began the development and construction of the Ames Hydroelectric Generating Plant. It was a hit. In fact, it was so successful that the Ames Plant led to the adoption of alternating currents at Niagara Falls and eventually to being adopted worldwide as a viable power solution.
The plant remains, but the gold rush obviously didn’t. By 1940, the U.S. Census declared this little town I call home as tied for the lowest population in the country: 2 people. By 1960, it was one of four incorporated towns in the U.S. with no residents. But the joke was on the Census — the town’s single resident was just out of town the day the census came through. 1960 population: 1.
By 1980 the population grew to 38, 69 in 1990, and about 180 now. (Plus 51 dogs according to the town’s website.) With modern amenities, it’s easier to be here. Studded snow tires, satellite internet, solar panels, instant coffee. No matter the hardships, there’s the reality of the present. In the 1880s, as the town boomed, the Ouray Times declared, “it will be at no distant day a far more pretentious town than it is now.” That day hasn’t exactly arrived, but I guess it depends on what you consider pretentious. I don’t think the town claims any airs of excellence beyond what’s true. In fact, the town hardly claims anything at all. There’s no sign indicating it’s even here. There’s just the old side and the new side.
The new side, the Eastern half, was drawn out in the early 1990s, some 100 years later, and is separated from the Old Town by an avalanche zone—preserved open space for hiking in the summer, preserved open space for surviving in the winter. The town forbids short-term rentals, no one has a fence, dogs roam free, and all the houses have that cabin look to them. A boulder nests in a grove near a trailhead in the center of town with a plaque paying respect to the Utes who called this valley home. There’s no industry here. No businesses allowed. If you want a $7 latte, you can drive the 14 miles required to get it, assuming there’s not an avalanche blocking your path. You can, however, buy a pink lemonade in a
solo cup at the permanent lemonade stand run by the local feral child mafia. Crystals (rocks) can be purchased for an additional cost. We bought one, hoping to buy favor at the same time.
The town plan has a few guiding principles, and it’s all in the name of preservation. We must preserve:
1 - the quiet atmosphere
2 - the rustic character
3 - the natural setting
And finally:
4 - protect the health and wellbeing of the people here
No snowmobiles, no ATVs, no drones. In fact, the only sign of the outside world here are the passers-through. When you take the dirt road through town to the end, you enter National Forest, and you can hike over the pass saddle at nearly 12,000 feet before descending down the other side into Silverton. The pass road climbs rutted through an aspen forest before scaling across a scree field and then lurching over to the other side. Every day, it seems like 30 or so Texans and Arizonans in lifted and loud Jeeps with unused mods climb over this mountain in the comfort of their air conditioning, simply to drive down the other side. You could hike it, ride it, run it, and ski it, but they don’t. They rev their engines, kicking up dust in a town of feral children and roaming dogs, staring at us instead of waving.
I’ve lived here for two months and look how salty I am. I’ll fit in yet.
But today, there is a temperature that whispers of perfect trails and the dwindling of ogglers driving 35 in a 15. It’s already snowed in the mountains we see from our kitchen. Today, like a dedication to the Septembers of our youth, you can feel a chill in the air. A temperature akin to pencils and sweaters and reinventing yourself. A temperature that doesn’t exactly sing “screen porch” but could if you had the right slippers on. That’s what I did this morning: put my slippers on and sat there in the cool mountain morning air, thinking about the cemetery behind our house, about the Ute tribe, about the miners, about the mailman who died on Christmas in 1875 on the pass, about the 5 people who died in avalanches here just last year, about the people in their cars on their phones driving through, and all the people who’s very first question to us was, “so are you gonna live here part-time or full-time?”
Maybe it will be a hard place to live. But at least we’ll have a screen porch.
Every week I'm writing about moving to log cabin in a small town at 10,000 feet. Subscribe here for free: tinyletter.com/keltonwrites
11 notes
·
View notes
Note
anything about xera and/or vv? 👀 i love all of your ocs designs!
Thanks!!!! And thank you for the ask omg I’ve been so excited to talk about them!!!!
Vv is the de facto leader of team cot xera vv because she’s the oldest and thus the most experienced, but vv is also lazy as hell and leaves most of the planning and strategy to cot, who usually is pretty good at it! Because I gave up on having a balanced team comp with these three characters, vv was a child genius like cot and xera are, and used to take things super seriously and try to act mature
And then vv got to 17 or 18 and realized adulthood isn’t all it’s cracked up to be and trying to be so mature to garner the respect of her peers wasn’t really making her happy. It was gradual but she loosened up and is now basically the most lax person on the team, but years of acting so stiff and cold had their effect and their weapon and cloak reflect this.
Vv’s weapon is this elegant rapier she designed, and it’s got the showiest hand guard ever because she wanted attention, she wanted respect, and she was going to get it. It’s also why her cloak is bright red when the standard colors are more neutral and muted. She stood out as one of the youngest and every murmur or whisper she heard about how admirable she was for being so strong was gratification and proof that it was working, and that she had gotten the respect she wanted
She could change her weapon now that she herself has changed but weapons take shape during those formative years and it won’t be so easy to change it now and she’s not willing to go through the effort just to conserve a bit more more energy (since maintaining the showiness of the sword does take up some of her energy, just not enough to weaken her by much otherwise she wouldn’t have done it in the first place)
Vv is a blunt person, which works great when dealing with cot, who is the most roundabout and misleading person you’ll ever find. So they work pretty well together. She’s also sarcastic and cynical if you talk to her, but she gets tired of talking really easily if there’s more than a few people in the conversation. She’ll also have periods of time where she goes silent and completely cuts off all communication and the people who care for her just have to be patient and she’ll be back soon. It’s kind of just social exhaustion I guess if that’s a thing?
Her whole take on friendships is based on whether or not she feels she can be genuine around someone. She spent years of her life acting like someone she wasn’t, and it was a bit suffocating, so she avoids anyone that she thinks she has to put up pretenses for. That, or the moment she starts putting up pretenses in front of someone and feeling like she has to hide things from them, in he eyes, the friendship is over. It’s on her end though, she couldn’t care less what others hide from her
And Xera! I’m considering renaming them Xieran to match more with Tianci but for now I’ll call them Xera. Xera’s whole thing is secrecy
They’re super shy around people and are thus really quiet and don’t seem to make much of an impression beyond cold and hard to talk to. Really though, they can be quite passionate about a few mundane things like the color of the nearby tree or the latest episode of a show. It’s a tossup with them what their interest will be, so speaking with them when they’re fixated on something can be a bit of a rollercoaster sometimes
The thing about them is they’ve built a reputation around being cold, and it seems to unsettle people when they talk about the things they want to talk about, so they just stay silent instead. Anyone who willingly listens to them rambling about things without showing a reaction of being surprised or unsettled or anything is kind of an automatic friend in their book, after a few too many times gushing about something and finding that people didn’t expect it of them
So they can kind of see where cot comes from with hiding his true intentions from people and giving them the runaround before finally trusting them, because their trust is also hard earned sometimes if anyone blunders once and says “I didn’t expect that from you” even if it’s unintentional. Unlike cot though, they don’t make an effort to deceive people and stop them from figuring them out. They just hide.
It’s not like their true self is super passionate all the time. Their interior a mix of their cold exterior and their passion for certain specific things, and they just want friends that can accept both sides without thinking it odd that they can switch from silent in one moment to rapid fire rambling in another and anything in between, because sometimes people expect just the coldness and sometimes people think that they’re just always passionate about things and never express it and are somehow disappointed when they don’t.
They relate to aspen a lot because they also overthink a lot of how other people think of them, but they don’t talk to aspen much anyways because both of them are overthinkers and super awkward with each other, neither willing to break the silence out of fear of offending the other pretty much, it would be constant apologies and niceties and they wouldn’t get anywhere. They do talk to each other about shows and stuff that they’re interested in sometimes though :)
And on their weapon! Xera fights like shadows, and likes to get behind their opponent if they can. they’re the resident sneaky person on their team, and much like the other two, are ridiculously smart and talented for their age. Granted, they don’t have vv’s showmanship or cot’s strategic mind, and aren’t much of a creative thinker, but they can follow instructions to the tee.
32 notes
·
View notes
Photo
p r o j e c t l a z a r u s (outlast au) pt 1.
Dean, a supernatural investigative reporter, receives an anonymous tip that something terrible has happened at what is supposed to be the long abandoned Novak Institute. As things quickly go south, Dean finds himself trapped within the rotting halls, pushed further and further in even as he tries to escape. What he discovers underneath the mountain may very well be the death of him.
read on ao3 here | or under the cut.
The tip was anonymous but he’d followed it in good faith. If the lead was anything he’d hoped for, he’d have the story of his lifetime. If it was good. A huge if, but he was getting about that desperate for a big break, especially since he was still competing with Henriksen and Ash. Half of the time he couldn’t figure out where the fuck they were getting such gold mine stories. The bastards.
He parked the Impala outside the gate, a tick of paranoia etching itself in his spine that someone would see him and yank the story out from under him. He debated covering Baby with branches and then realized that there was literally no one around. Outside of the sound of dry leaves blowing across the cracking blacktop and the breeze rustling the dying aspens, there was not a sound.
Feeling stupid, he grabbed his small duffel bag and double checked its contents: his video camera (getting a little outdated with all the new tech but he’d bet his life on its durability), his flip phone (yeah, yeah, he knows), the first aid kit (he always brought it with when he went into abandoned buildings after stepping on that rusty nail that one time), a flashlight, the EMF detector (made it himself), and the switchblade (stolen from his father).
The tools of the trade, if your trade was being insane and stupid and reporting on old urban legends and ghosts and demonic possessions and shit. Y’know, normal stuff. The kinda job you could tell someone about on the first date.
With the contents all accounted for, Dean locked Baby up, shoved his keys into the bag and took a deep breath.
Show time.
Beyond the crumbling brick wall towered the Institute in all of its fading glory, its architecture dated and magnificent even as the clay tile roofing broke and shattered at its base, creating a minefield of broken pieces sharp enough to dig through the tread of his boot if he wasn't careful. The hedges were overgrown and misshapen, and most of the exterior windows were broken. Dean could only assume from local teenagers trashing the place. It must have been beautiful back in the day, a hidden gem among the peaks. Fuckin’ kids.
According to an old newspaper article, the Novak Institute was closed down in 1982 for financial reasons and had been avoided by every sensible local like it was cursed ever since. It was founded in the early 1880s by a man named Charles Shurley with a simple goal: fund and research miracle cures. The stuff of angels, as the word of mouth story went. After his death in 1930, his wealthy in-laws took over and kept his goal in mind as they expanded into even more experimental treatments for all kinds of medical and psychological ailments.
Folks from around the world came to be healed, and the Novaks— Shurley’s in-laws— were damn good at it. They sought to push the boundaries between modern, traditional, and experimental medicine and frequently did so successfully.
In 1970, a woman by the name of Naomi Novak took over the Institute, and (though it had always been a private facility for the wealthy to turn about their health for the better) she privatized the institution completely. Within a year it became a family owned research facility. Rumor was that members of the Novak family suffered from a mysterious condition, one that they kept behind closed doors and drawn curtains and that she was hellbent on finding the fix for it.
From there Dean took every tale he'd scrounged up from the small mountain town down the road with a grain of salt. Urban legends all started somewhere, but along the way they lost the truth, and that was usually where the scary stuff kicked in.
Still, the story went that it had been the wrong direction for the family to take, and they immediately stumbled into financial struggles that eventually dragged the entire thing down around them. In '82 they closed their doors, for good.
Except, two days ago Dean received an encrypted email. Sent out in mass, he suspected. The contents of the email was straight up bizzare— since he'd received it, he'd kept a printed copy tucked into his back pocket, folded up and folded up again until the creases wore thin and threatened to tear.
It was in the mountain. They told me not to look. I did anyway. She told me not to look. By the time I send this, it will be too late. The Novak Institute needs to be burned to the ground. Don’t look. Just light the match and let it go.
Dean’s issue was always the same. Of course he was gonna look. That was kinda his whole job— stick his nose where it shouldn’t go and see what bit it. In fact, he wanted something to bite. That would be his big break. He just had to haul ass the other direction the second something chomped down and pray that he caught it on camera.
So here he was, sticking his nose where it shouldn’t be.
To the left of the main doors sat an armoured convoy. Its doors were closed, and it looked surprisingly free from rust, if it has been sitting there for a couple of decades.
The model of the car was somewhat new, Dean realized.
"Huh," He stopped in front of it, swiping a finger along its hood. Inspecting the pad for dust, it came away blank. His finger barely left a trail. The vehicle was spotless. It couldn't have been sitting there longer than a day with the way the wind swept dust across the open courtyard. "Weird."
The convoy should have been his first red flag, so scarlet it must have been dyed fresh with blood. It wasn't.
Dean pulled one of the ornate handles on the front door, but it didn't give an inch. They were made of a solid piece of wood, heavy duty. There was something vaguely fortified about the place. Hospitals had welcoming doors, encouraging people to come and get better. These, Dean could tell by the massive iron hinges they hung from, were bolted shut from the inside.
Dean tried the other handle just in case. Nothing. He sighed, and tugged out his phone. 4:10 PM. One bar of signal that kept flashing in and out of existence. In October, the sun would be going down soon…and he was only supposed to be checking it out today. His plan was to come back at sunrise for a full day of sunlight and investigation.
Down the expanse of shattered windows, a piece of glass skittered out across the cobblestone. His head jerked up and instinctually, he called out a inquisitive "Hello?"
No one answered, but he heard, with straining ears, what sounded like footsteps shuffling further into the building.
What if someone had beat him here? He hadn't been the only person the email was sent to. There was a chance that coming back tomorrow meant he lost the story to someone else. Henriksen would never let him hear the end of that. Dean had boasted that he had something big, had left in the middle of the night to get here before anyone else. No, he was not going to let Henriksen win another bet against Ash.
Almost drowned out by the sound of the continued breeze, Dean heard a door slam shut inside the Institute. A stone sank past the bottom of his stomach down to the floor. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and the insidious feeling that someone was watching him crept around his psyche until he had no choice but to look back over his shoulder. The courtyard remained the same: desolate, abandoned.
"Fuck it."
He should've pulled his switchblade out, just in case, but he settled on the flashlight, fingers wrapping around it tightly. The light was really starting to die beyond the snowy backdrop, warm sunlight fading into a sickly orange glow that bathed everything in sight.
"Just one room." Dean muttered to himself, and shouldered the bag, brandishing the flashlight with a grimace.
This was a stupid idea.
Like a statuette too close to the end of a table, Dean hoisted himself carefully over the edge of broken glass and hopped into the room blind. Darkness greeted him, enveloped him in an unknown that would consume him and spit a cracked reflection back out. All it would take was a little push in the wrong direction to send him toppling to the floor.
The halls of Novak Institute were filled with hands just itching for something to break.
#mine#*#YEEHAW#did i repurpose my old monstrous edits?#yes#but tbh the edits were made with this specific AU in mind anyways so i don't even feel bad about it#also because they FUCK#project lazarus
35 notes
·
View notes
Note
THEYRE SO CUTE HOLY SHIT i love that they can find comfort in one another and be happy and wholesome and GAHHHHH LOVE THEM
also the kids part👀👀👀 have you possibly thought up any ideas for them?
THANK YOU I ABSOLUTELY ADORE THEM MY GOSH THEY'RE SO CUTE TOGETHER I,,,, have some drabbles about them 👀👀👀👀👀 if you would like, I can post them
And actually I haven't considered kids!!
But 👀👀👀👀👀
If I WERE to have them have kids.....
They would absolutely have a little girl, maybe a little boy. Nolia is the cool wine aunt and Cedar is the fun uncle (the funcle if you will, which he absolutely encourages the kids to call him). Rowan and Sans are absolutely *terrified*. They have no idea how to raise children, neither of them had great parents or role models. They decide to go to couples therapy or family therapy or something, I'm not sure which would be right, to try and resolve their issues or at least be ready with some coping mechanisms so they don't project on the kids or hurt them with their trauma. They would be *amazing* parents, just doting and encouraging and *always* making sure the kids know just how adored and absolutely priceless they are to them.
The little girl..... Not gonna go too much into their lives too much bc that's gonna be a whole other story lol but her name would be.... Juniper. The tree has a lot of important stuff to it, the smoke was used for purification because it was highly aromatic, the berries have SO many uses, including some medicinal uses, and (ironically) the berries have been used for centuries to flavour alcohol. Nickname is either Junie or (when she was teething, and onward bc she liked biting people gently and affectionately when she was younger) Nippy. She is rather brave and likes adrenaline-heavy activities. She is adventurous and *loves* the outdoors.
(I think they would be mostly monster, maybe a little tilt to their soul, maybe there are times where it wavers and starts to flip upright but they never go all the way and it's not a whole lot of movement)
The little boy would be named Aspen. Aspen trees were associated with language, communication, wind, endurance, and resurrection. The wood was used in shields for protection, and the bark and leaves are used medicinally. His nickname would be Little Asp or just Asp, partly bc of his vicious temper (though it's rare and only shows up when provoked) and partly bc it was just a shortening of Aspen lol. He's pretty patient but also very chatty, a very babbly baby and will absolutely talk your ear off about what he finds interesting. He also rather likes the woods, and makes a fort in the forest behind his house with Junie. Loves snakes (only searched them up bc he heard Asp was a snake and he went down a rabbit hole with that and got interested lol) and animals.
Help I'm writing like their whole lives IMMA STOP THERE BUT YEAH THEY'RE SUPER CUTE AND ROWAN AND SANS ARE OPEN ABOUT THEIR THERAPY SO THEIR KIDS KNOW THAT THERE IS NO SHAME IN GOING
#ask#hyper beloved#yo this was so fun to do lol#I love making characters#oc#oc kids#kids#they're so frikkin cute man#they're all so cute
7 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
sunwinac
Sunwin AC
protosstar
Nikola Tesla fanclub
icaruscurls
world peace
eleanor-bishop
apple pie to the rescue !
