orionanderson-blog

[orionanderson-blog]

“I am.” he stated it with a smile, grown from the fact that he didn’t refer to him as Orion. He searched his brain for the other man’s name till something settled into place. “You’re Arnold.” He almost took out his hand, but due to the fact that Arnold’s mannerisms were nervous and awkward, he sensed that hand-shaking might make him jump out of his skin. “Pleasure to meet you.” 

Vaguely recognizing the other man’s face, he stuffed his hands into his pockets, shifting from one leg to the other before speaking again. “Yeah,” he said quietly, biting his lower lip. “You’re, uh, Anderson, right?”

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“Were they?” The wiggle of the other man’s eyebrows made him scoff. “I didn’t mean here, I said born in the general sense.” He sighed, pinching the curve of his nose. “No matter where people are, they crave certain tastes--things that are harmful to them in large quantities.” He removed his hand, glancing at Jameson again. “I supposed that could be culturally relative. And no, to answer your question. I’m talking statistics not you singularly. Overall, I say people like ketchup because of the sugar and how it balances out against the salt of other foods. Ultimately it’s perfect...in the relative sense.”

“How do you know they weren’t baked?” Jameson wiggled his eyebrows as he popped another fry into his mouth, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he leaned back in his seat. “I wasn’t born here,” he quipped as soon as the word ‘born’ left Orion’s mouth. “And I wouldn’t call myself obese. Would you?” He dipped another fry into the mustard that was now occupying a third of his plate before tossing it down the hatch.

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“It helps with the pain.” Anderson said, with a grin attached to his words, “If you want help with the healing process,  a little fresh aloe vera should work.” His grin only grew wider as he spoke. “ I like home remedies.”

Seb looks to Orion with brows raised in surprise, pulls his thumb out of his mouth with a soft pop. “Yeah? I’m pretty sure Sage has got some of that stuff lying around.”

Seb studies his thumb a second, licks his lips, “How does that even work though? It’s gonna heal it or something? 

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 katrina-unger:

Her office was her home, Katrina grinned as she closed the door behind Anderson. “Awful, I can’t stand my coworkers.” As if to accentuate the quip, Peep wove from between her legs to brush against her guest’s immaculate black pants. “He’s the worst, water cooler talker, you know.”

“Fire him,” he replied wryly, casting a swift glare at the cat. He didn’t hate them, but just didn’t particularly get along with them. They seemed to see straight through him in a way that people couldn’t, or maybe that was just conjured by his own paranoia of animals in general. He’d been bit once by a mutt, mixed breed with a pitt face. Time had made him weary, no loyal animal sat between then and now. A scar on his calf held longer in his mind than a quiet feline did. “My coworkers all think they are more intelligent than I.” He was already unbuttoning his coat as soon as he entered Katrina’s place. “Imagine that? Everyone trying to make you feel like an idiot, when the papers call you a genius.”

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“What do you do when that happens? Give them two stars? A needle to their balloon pride, that’ll show them. I say you take a taxi instead. I never got the Uber hype.”

“No. But my Uber is late and that more or less feels like the same thing.”

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“Okay.”  He regretted the question shortly after it was asked, he should have known Sebastien would go on a tangent about something that was not the book he was writing. He rolled his eyes, but kept his words light. “Raw, organic honey helps paper cuts.”

“Fuck, yeah man, thanks for asking.” Seb says with an long-suffering sigh, “First, Netflix axed a show right when I was mid season. Then the wifi went out. And to top it all off,” Seb raises a hand to show Orion his thumb, frowns “I got a fucking paper cut. Stings like a bitch.” 

Seb huffs, glances at his thumb before popping it in his mouth to sooth the pain.

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Anderson glanced over at the man, he could remember his name vaguely, but could remember his brain a little better. It was at a party, perhaps it was Sebastien who had known him first and introduced them. He was supposed to be smart--a big job behind a screen. Anderson grinned. “Call it a sixth sense.” His words were light as he spoke, a notion that made just how much he enjoyed to hear himself speak obvious. “Well, maybe not the sixth, because humans actually have way more than five senses. It’s one of them.”

Raising an eyebrow as he pulled his jacket tighter around himself, he responded uncertainly, “Um, I guess so. Why? Do I look tired or something?”

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Risks are everywhere. The more you look for a risk, the more they multiply. Welcome to the world, enjoy your stay. 

I’d say communal shower but I’m sure that has its own risks.

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“What?” Anderson asked, untucking his chin from the warmth of his wool scarf. “Did you have a hard day at the office?” 

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If only I could make everyone in New York shower with just the mere mention of dirty coins.  But, fraud! 

Yeah, I’m definitely taking a shower.

Also transferring all of my paper money into a debit account and going completely digital.

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That’s the spirit. Uh, I don’t think so. It’s not like people can snort blow up from a pile of quarters. It could transfer from the bills, I guess. I did know about the bills, bills are just as bad though. E. coli, the flu, salmonella and many more--the world is a filthy, filthy place.

I feel oddly icky now and I’m going to do laundry pronto.

Although I think it’s more likely I would catch a high; did you know that most every dollar bill has traces of cocaine on it?

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Maybe the diseases floating around in your bed from all that dirty change sums up your aesthetic more. 

I fell asleep in my jeans and now there’s about three dollars in loose change drifting around my sheets, and I don’t know what sums up my aesthetic more.

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“Madonna was your first mistake.” Anderson said lightly, crossing his arms as he looked down at Miri. He ignored the part about the change. “I think you might be better off with something like...” He tapped his foot as he pretended to think up something, but in reality this was just his take on his own kind of extravagant sarcasm. He unfolded his arms and pointed his finger up at the ceiling, as if pointing up at an invisible lightbulb flashing above his head. “Christian Rock.” 

She strummed her guitar idly, humming a disjointed tune, tired and content with the little pile of money in the bottom of her guitar case. It was getting late, and she figured she better start packing up before the really creepy characters who lurked the subway came out. She knelt down to collect the loose change, tossing it into the bottom of her purse where it mixed in with candy wrappers and receipts. A shadow fell over the case, and Miri shook her head. “The answer is no. I stood here for three fucking hours singing old Madonna songs to get this much money. If anyone deserves spare change, it’s me.”

[orionanderson-blog]

“I guess we could branch off from that and ask the simple question of ‘why do people like food after it’s been soaked in boiling fat?’” Anderson lowered his glance to the fries, looking down his nose at them as if they were the most detestable thing he’d ever seen. He wasn’t one for that ‘my body was a temple’ shit, but he wouldn’t lower himself to buying from what he guessed was a sketchy food cart. “Sugar and salt-- they’re addictive and everyone is born reaching their little infant hands out for them. Hello, obesity and hello, America.” 

“Why do people eat ketchup,” Jameson muttered as he dipped his fry into a puddle of mustard that he’d squirted onto his plate, the corners of his lips tugged down into a grimace at the idea that people actually chose to eat their food with the disgusting condiment. “It’s all sugar and tomatoes. Those things aren’t mean to coexist in one bottle.”

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– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – BOY GENIUS

Name: Orion Anderson

Address: 479 3rd Street, Gowanus, Brooklyn

“How do you feel about white hot chaos?”

/ / INTRO / /

Hailing from Bellevue, Washington, he is the son of a scientist who paid more attention to his work than his family.

He tried to gain his father’s attention by matching his father intellectually at a young age. This sparked a ‘genius’ persona that he configured through the need of his father’s attention.

Eventually, he chose instead to surpass him in the field he loved the most. 

Currently trying to earn his doctorate in astrophysics, he works and studies at Columbia 

He only smokes marijuana on the occasion in which his brain isn’t already stimulated by uppers.

Needs to make sure everyone knows he’s the smartest person in the room.

/ / CONNECTIONS / /

At 2AM when he’s coked out and unable to sleep, he gives ART HOE 2 a call to discuss his opinion on popular theorems

Does the coffee run for the faculty and always goes to GOOD GUY HIPSTER’s cafe. He’s a regular and his orders now come at a discount, because the staff likes him so much

Has had a one night stand with THE MANNY and has managed to remain on good terms with him, even forming what could be considered a friendship

Rooms with TRIPLE THREAT

Tutored HOMELESS HEIDI in science throughout college, and because of this he’s become his personal Wikipedia, constantly pestered for accurate information for the other’s novel

/ / FACECLAIM / /

Janis Ancens