whatever.

Shiloh Moore. 29. they/them Best damn park ranger this place has ever seen!

[shilohmoore]

shiloh moore is twenty-nine years old (born dec 19th.) they’re agender and use they/them pronouns. they’re a park ranger & head camp counselor (at frazier woods state park.) they currently reside in greystone apartment complex. ☼ Sagittarius | ☾ Capricorn | ↑ Gemini

when they’re not patrolling the park grounds or organizing camp activities, they’re usually playing jackass with striker cannon and beth lapointe, escaping into the trees, cryptid hunting in the woods at night, making friendship bracelets, advocating for environmental conservation, and trying to avoid their family keeping busy. the song they have on repeat at the moment is yeah! by usher (feat. lil jon & ludacris)

( biography under construction. )

[shilohmoore]

simba gano·.

Simba grinned in reply. “At my age, all years blend together anyway, as long as I know we’re in the 21st century, I am good,” he said, squinting his eyes at Monster House, he had seen that one, he thought. It was scary, but also animation, which made it less scary for his daughters. “Cabin in the Woods? I think I’ve heard of that one, but I’ve never seen it, appropriate for a fourteen and sixteen year old?” He asked.

“Sweet,” Shiloh confirms with a snort. “With twenty-first century perimeters, I definitely got you then.” Their lips pull taut, teeth on display for a tight grimace as they card through scenes of the movie in their head. What the Moore family might consider appropriate for fourteen may not be in line with the rest of the world. With how much chaos was compacted into their trailer, there was usually a lack of supervision. “Well... Technically, it’s rated ‘R’. There’s mostly cursing and some weed jokes and stuff... and, okay, like one near-sex scene. But, like, c’mon. At fourteen, what’s there left to learn about that kinda stuff, y’know?”

[shilohmoore]

rollo moore.

halloween event @roswellstarters

Rollo had attached their demon tail to the fanny pack they were wearing. It was currently hidden beneath the shirt of their outfit. Their face was painted red and black, and the rest of their body had matching colours. They didn’t think they looked perfectly the part, but in the dark nobody cared, as long as you played it well. And it was easy to scare people who knew they were going to be scared. 

“Hi, hello, Uhm, we’re closed for thirty so everyone can grab some food,” they said when someone walked up to the closed ticket booth.

Shiloh is well aware of that fact. And while they’re not typically the most paternal of the Moore clan, sometimes, they have a tendency to look after Rollo more than Rollo tends to look after themself. Maybe it’s a way of making up for those years spent apart, when Shiloh had tried to close the physical distance between them with sporadic phone calls and the occasional meme.

“Guess I’ll just keep these super delicious mummy poppers to myself, then,” they tease, lifting the paper basket and tilting it back and forth in their hands, swirling it just inches below Rollo’s nose so the scent of freshly cooked jalapeño could waft up towards them. Then they settle it down on the counter between the two siblings. “C’mon, ‘everyone’ includes you too, Ro; someone’s gotta feed your sorry ass.”

[shilohmoore]

birdie cannon.

There’s more than a touch of skepticism in Birdie’s raised brow, though he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Rarely does he see Shiloh’s favours as charity ( despite there being little difference between their money spent and that of attempted pick-ups or provocations at the Pony ). It’s different when it comes to the youngling. Be it their trailer-park upbringing or their shared spot on the outskirts of civilised society, the unlikely pair– now joined at the hip courtesy of Striker’s trailblazing misadventures around Roswell’s riskiest spots –get it. Get each other ( Birdie knows he’s still a little ways off from fully fleshing out his understanding of gender… expression?? Identity?? All of that ). True motive unbeknownst to him, he appreciates Shiloh’s visit. Even if it has mucked up his pristine floors.

“They got new flavours for fall,” Birdie says. Shiloh’s one of the few people who doesn’t make his throat wring his words dry on their way up to his mouth. His breaths come easy, and his voice is steady, only ever that calm when he’s with his brothers.

Shiloh’s quick to snap their fingers and point their index towards Birdie. “That’s the spirit.” It’s a jovial quip, quick but kind as a crooked, dopey grin pulls at one half of their mouth.

They turn towards the wheelchair ramp and half-wall behind them, hoisting themself up to plop down and perch on the ledge. They weren’t raised entirely without manners— damn close, but a baseline of human decency managed to root its way in place, and so Shiloh opts to keep the soles of their boots aloft and away from the actually wet floors Birdie’s mopping.

“I’m expecting a whole range of flavors now. Like, don’t get me wrong, I’m a pumpkin guy for sure, but there’s something to be said for the occasional apple crisp, y’feel me?”

They don’t really need a response. Shiloh’s become perfectly content accepting Birdie’s lip purses, stiff nods, and eyebrow raises as affirmatives, and something about the man’s near silence is an odd comfort. It gives Shiloh space to untangle and expel their own thoughts, just like a long walk down a shaded forrest path. After a beat they add, “Okay, I’ll be real with you: I don’t think I’ve actually ever seen these floors wet. How long does it take to dry? If you’ve got a while until your break, I can totally swing in and grab coffees for us to drink out here. Promise not to spill anything on your clean floor, scout’s honor.”

[shilohmoore]

❝ Look, lady, whatever you’re selling, I ain’t buying, yo!! ❞

“Well, my name is Skylar White, yo. My husband is Walter White, yo?”

shiloh is dressed as trans icon jesse pinkman from “Breaking Bad.” the fit is complete with an oversized yellow hoodie, a black and white plaid jacket, excessively baggy jeans, nike sneakers, a black beanie with a white stripe around the bottom that they’ve stuffed their hair into, and some tastefully done facial hair makeup. their pockets are stuffed with packs of breaking bad blue rock candy that they’re passing out randomly to people they like. ( @rocketfm )

[shilohmoore]

time:  monday, oct 24th 12:30am / 00:30am location: shocktober fest  status: closed to @zibbylapointe​ & @strikercannon

It’s a decision influenced mostly by a combination of the tequila in the Sleepy Hollow cocktails and bottles of pumpkin ale atop a foundation of already-poor impulse control. Shiloh and Beth have been known to terrorize innocent passersby at these events, hitting below the belt by jumping at a crowd who have just escaped one of the haunted houses, assuming they’d be safe beyond the exit signs. In one instance in 2018, they’d made a kid cry and had atone with enough sugar to probably keep the kid up all night. And enough cocktails to pay that kid’s parent a proper apology.

Now, the terrible two have set their sights on Striker Cannon. As he’s resting against a picnic bench for an all-too-short food break, Shiloh and Beth put their plan into motion. 

“Okay, okay,” Shiloh finally gets out after quieting the laughter bubbling up from their core. “Shh! Shh... Okay... Here we go, Bette.”

Hidden in the shrubbery made up to be a haunted maze, Shiloh counts down from three. Then they let out a blood-curdling, banshee shriek. The sound is a diversion made firstly to draw attention and secondly to cover up the sound of Beth’s footsteps now hurdling towards Striker.

[shilohmoore]

jaden lapointe.

up until that point , the moore family had been blissfully absent from jaden’s life . sure , there was that one incident at his thirtieth birthday party , but since he’d kept sparrow at an arm’s length , and their siblings even further . emmett was the only individual he could get along with , handed a pass for his musical knowledge and the ability to slip his friend discounted bowling passes ( if he begged hard enough , that was ) . he had met rollo in a fleeting moment at pride , but the face had melted into memory in a sea of bright-coloured specks . 

those features , and the venom upon their tongue , was an unmistakable indication of their surname . chasing the ball with outstretched arms and eventually bundling it beneath his armpit , the male’s lips twisted in denial . “ well , first of all , i absolutely didn’t sound like mickey mouse — “ being an older brother himself , he could go all day with a game of ‘ he said , she said ‘ . “ — and my impressions are strictly for my own daughter , unless the asking price is right . “

Kids who grew up in the Moore home were never declawed. It meant walking away from the trailer with a little too much bite, too intense a sharpness for most others’ tastes. Half the time, Shiloh doesn’t even realize they carry it, and the amused but doubtful look they flash Jaden is only further proof of it as Shiloh instinctively digs a little further. Still, Shiloh’s nips are meant to be playful, at least most of the time. And as soon as they weren’t, there was absolutely no mistaking it.

“Hey,” they say at once, hands raising in surrender. “No hate. I have nothing but respect for Michael Mouse and the absolute chokehold he has over capitalism... Or, well, I would if I wasn’t a total freakin’ communist, but if I’m gonna go around admitting shit like that, I’m pretty sure I gotta enroll in witness protection, so you didn’t hear that.”

Their eyes flash to the ball tucked under Jaden’s arm, and a smirk tugs at one corner of Shiloh’s lips. “Tell you what, LeBron. I’ll give you another shot to impress me. You wanna play a quick game of one-on-one? Standard rules: first one to twenty-one wins.”

[shilohmoore]

birdie cannon.

when: october 4th - 06:12pm where: roswell mall who: open ( @roswellstarters )

Skeletons, bats, pumpkins and ghosts dangle and cackle from every corner of the Roswell mall. Motorised ghouls screech when their sensors go haywire, jerking the odd scream and laugh out of unsuspecting shoppers on their way to snatch up Halloween goods.

In the spirit of yearly spooks, the mall has suggested ( read: mandated ) that the staff of all partaking establishments embrace the festivities a little early on. Some have jumped on such a chance, enthusiastic in their guises of Myers, Krueger, Frankenstein’s monster and many more. Others scrape by with a pair of contacts and dark clothes.

Birdie stands somewhere in the middle. 

Clad in his beloved baggy jumpsuit, he mops at puddles of sticky sauce and fizzing soda with an ever-twisting stomach bubbling with embarrassment. His jaw’s tense around a surprisingly convincing pair of fangs that Rudy, from the upstairs sandwich place, had shoved into place over the course of a wasted smoke break. He’d split a fake blood pellet over Birdie’s neck, too, staining the jumpsuit and earning himself a frosty glare— one Rudy had ended up cackling at. What? You look hot, man!

A pair of careless feet turn a blind eye to the CAUTION: WET FLOOR sign Birdie uses to barricade his chosen spot. They slip and drag muck over strips of sparkling epoxy flooring. Stilled by the disregard, Birdie fixes them with the very same cold ire he’d shot at Rudy post forced dress-up.

................................................................................................................

Shiloh has never been particularly scared of Birdie. Admittedly, they likely should tread around the other with a bit more caution given his rap sheet, one that seems to grow lengthier on each occasion they cross paths. But, given it seems to be filled primarily with petty theft, loitering, and maybe a few minor cases of breaking and entering, Shiloh feels more inclined to give him a high-five for, “sticking it to the pigs,” than to run and cower.

Though the look Birdie flashes them, like he’s practicing posing for his damn mugshot, might make them reconsider. Might, if they weren’t so busy trying to decipher why they’re earning it in the first place. They stare back with pinched brows until their eyes finally drop to their Timberlands, dirt on the soles mixing with the water to leave a trail of grime in their wake.

“Al-right,” Shiloh says with the same tone a mildly offended person might say, ‘I get it.’ Their face scrunches into one of lighthearted indignation, one they often wear when being told off by their siblings.

“In my defense, nine times out of ten you put that thing up when the floors aren’t even wet, so consider this your ‘Boy Who Cried Wolf’ lesson learned... Now, fix your face. That is no way to be lookin’ at the person who rode their bike all the way here just to buy you a coffee.” They didn’t; they’d wanted a soft pretzel, but what Birdie doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

[shilohmoore]

simba gano.

Simba loved spooky season. Halloween was not a thing in France, at least not when he was still living there, and he had some problems getting with it after moving to the United States, but as soon as he had kids: he understood. Or at least he felt like he did. He was rummaging through the dvd section of the appliances store, looking up at the first person he saw. “Quick, what’s the latest fun halloween movie to come out?” ( @roswellstarters)

................................................................................................................

An odd, elongated noise leaves Shiloh’s throat, one not unlike, “G’rraaauugh...” as they scramble for an answer to the impromptu question. Of course the word, “quick,” has rendered their mind utterly blank.

“’Monster House!’” they blurt out at once, cringing at themself as their eyes slip shut and their head shakes from side to side. “That’s not even remotely ‘the latest,’ um...” Their lips flap around a slow exhale, the sound not unlike a whinnying horse. “I gotta be honest, I think the last, like, decent Halloween movie I saw was ‘Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark,’ and even that was a minute ago. But if you ask me, you can never go wrong with ‘Cabin in the Woods,’ so...”

[shilohmoore]

jaden lapointe

satellite sports complex! ( open for — @roswellstarters )

since the accident that had stolen not only his leg but his confidence , jaden had strayed from crossing the threshold of satellite sports complex . in his mind , if he simply avoided returning to the pitches he had once frequented daily after high school , he would never need to come to the realisation that he hadn’t the stamina he used to . full health or not , it would have inevitably been a shock to the system , a man of the wrong side of thirty versus a slender teenager at the top of his game . either way , basketball in hand , a deep breath was pulled to inflate his chest and , eyes closed , the rough orange plastic left his fingertips .. to circle the hoop , and plunge within the net !! squeaking in excitement , his brunette head whirled to the nearest onlooker , “ — did you see that ?! “

Shiloh’s working their tennis racket back into its cover bag when a near-shriek pierces through their earbuds, now knocked askew from their last few swings. Shiloh pulls them free, dropping them into their gym bag to become lost among microfiber towels and empty protein shake bottles. With wide, expectant eyes, they look back at Jaden... then off to the basketball skipping across the court, presumably after a successful shot given Jaden’s... colorful reaction.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, man... no,” they say, looking back at Jaden. It’s not long before an illy-contained smirk knocks its way loose, and a snort jumps out of their nose. “But, dude, did you hear that? You sounded like Mickey freakin’ Mouse— do you do birthday parties? I might be able to hook you up with some of my campers’ parents. Get the ball rollin’.”