keanu reeves & he/him / male ‷ watch out , kekoa francis parsons has crash-landed into roswell !! he looks 54 years old and celebrates his birthday on august 26th . he is from springfield, massachusetts, resides in lunar crescent and is currently working as a psychiatrist at roswell community medical + part-time lecturer. one thing you should know about him is he never threw away his dungeon and dragons guidebooks — they live in the basement of his home in a box marked “important”. ‷
note: kekoa has lived a life so his bio is long and full of stuff. for that reason, only his stats page is directly under this post. to see his bio, follow the link here or at the end of this post. [ content warnings for bio: mentions of war, ptsd, anxiety, alcoholism, casual homophobia, hiv/aids, motorcycle accident, death. none of that is in the stats! ]
[ basic ]
full name: kekoa francis parsons
pronunciation & meaning: keh-koh-ah; meaning “the warrior, the brave one”
nickname(s): koa, kay, doc; professor grumpy (by his daughter only)
hometown: born in toronto, ontario; raised in springfield, massachusetts
spirituality: undefined; all he knows is that he’s not in control, and that most people deserve kindness.
fears: there’s not a whole lot he’s afraid of — besides hyperrealistic mannequins and puppets. those things are weird.
guilty pleasure(s): hostess cupcakes, fine bourbons.
biggest pet peeve(s): when someone finishes a box/bag of food and puts the thing back as if it’s still full, things cooked in the microwave, strictly categorical thinkers
distinct mannerisms: absolute expert in maintaining extended eye contact and silence; not afraid of an “awkward moment”.
maladaptive: stubborn, introverted, a little grumpy, worrisome
beliefs about self: eternal student. always self-monitoring; always trying. probably could benefit from a chill pill, but doesn’t love their flavor. probably the luckiest dad in the world.
[ more ]
[ bio ] [ content warnings: mentions of war, ptsd, anxiety, alcoholism, casual homophobia, hiv/aids, motorcycle accident, death. ]
What is the most childish thing that you still do?
◆◆◆ "the inner child has funny ways of manifesting, doesn't it?" he jokes. "i still enjoy snack pack puddings every once in a while...and i will never stop jumping into the swimming pool cannonball-style."
although they had forgone a professional relationship in the last year and a half that didn’t mean jaden and kekoa couldn’t exist as friends . it was difficult , when they spent sessions each week across from each other in armchairs that were almost too comfortable , to find time outside of the tear-jerking trials that were therapy to just exist as companions , but now that he’d taken a break from such help it was easier to maintain that relationship ; although , at times like these , jaden certainly required off-the-clock advice . stepping up towards the door of his friend knuckles racked against wood and he stepped back , awaiting an answer , brows raising and dimples sinking once the other appeared . “ hey , dude – “ the male spoke , bringing kekoa into what could only be described as a ‘ bro-hug ‘ , “ – thanks for letting me ‘round . i just need somebody to vent to , “
◆◆◆ the hug is warm and friendly, and kekoa needs it just as much as jaden does — empty nest syndrome is very real. "of course," kekoa says, closing the door behind jaden. he walks and ushers jaden into the living room, taking a seat on one end of the large couch facing the unlit fireplace. should jaden choose, the other end of the couch is open; but so are the two swivel chairs on the other side of the fireplace. kekoa knows jaden might not want to sit right near him, and that's fine — boundaries are important.
◆◆◆ "before we get into it —" kekoa says, pointing to the well-stocked bar behind him, "— can i get you anything? a beer? glass of wine? water? i might go for a bit of merlot, myself..."
where: lunar crescent, home sweet home
for: @drparsons
hailey finds it hard to believe she’s back in roswell after four years. not that she hates the town or whatever — she made a plan to move to california as soon as she’s done with college, and while that almost came true, it also didn’t. she’s supposed to be living the dream life somewhere else and yet here she is, dragging her luggage with her towards home, because where else would hailey go when things ended badly like this? the only thing that concerns her is how her father would react to her sudden return, and as soon as she opens the door and sees him staring back at her, hailey puts on a bashful smile before saying, “ wait, aren’t you supposed to be at work by now? ” for some reason that doesn’t sound right. maybe she should just be honest about it. no, that sounds even worse. “ i know i’ve always called or texted before i come home but, ” i was going through some shit i’d rather not talk about. “ surprise? ”
◆◆◆ it's a mix of emotions seeing his daughter standing in the doorway. while he's ecstatic (oh how i've missed you!), he's also instantly thrown into a state of worry. what's brought her home so suddenly? she appears to be phyiscally intact — he approaches the doorway with a happy smile, putting forth a facade of composure as he observes her — and unharmed, but something sits heavy in his stomach regardless. "hey kiddo!" kekoa says, holding the door for hailey. "surprise is right! is this a late birthday present, or...?"
“Actually– Not very far at all. You can stay where you’re at.” Muttering a ‘scusami,’ mostly to himself, he ducks into the fridge to retrieve a reusable container–marked with his first and last name as any sensible person would do with a shared refrigerator–and sets it down with reverence. “I do hope you like chocolate–and you don’t have a hazelnut allergy.” Dark brown eyes are shining with rare excitement; he’s proud of what he’s done but it’s also been fun being able to connect with a colleague over a shared love of food. Carefully he opens the container, revealing a small cake, covered in a chocolate mirror glaze. “Torta setteveli. My Nonna used to make this for my birthdays. So, ah, buon compleanno is probably what sounds more familiar; but tanti auguri is what we’d say colloquially. Many wishes.”
◆◆◆ kekoa's eyes widen in the mirror glaze on the cake. he holds one hand over his heart, feeling truly honored — the confection before him is not only time-consuming, but also special to the person who made it. leo is a person of few, careful words, so the gesture speaks volumes. "this is outstanding, leo. i don't think i've ever had a birthday cake this beautiful." he smiles and gestures to the empty seat before him. "sit with me, wont' you? let's enjoy this thing together."
Being a rather low-energy person by nature, excitement rarely colored Leo’s features; though his rather ornery resting face didn’t lend to thrill very well. However, something subtle related to enthusiasm came over his face when he finally ran into Kekoa at work, and near the breakroom they both frequented as well. “Dr. Parsons,” he greeted calmly, always too formal, something that worked oddly in conjunction with his rather heavy New York accent. “I’ve brought something for you, actually, something that shouldn’t be out of the fridge for very long at a time.” He bounced on his feet, the energy going well with the numerous colorful pins on his white coat depicting various characters, and his scrubs printed all with the smiling face of Kermit the Frog. “If you’ve got the time, I’ll gladly show you now.”
◆◆◆ the breakroom is a small but sacred place where roswell's doctors can, for just a moment, breathe. the morning has been a little stressful for kekoa — patients aside — to be given another year of life (fifty-four of them, dear lord) is as beautiful as it is vexing. kekoa ponders this as he sips his coffee, staring aimlessly out the window when a voice brings him back to the room. "leo! good afternoon," kekoa says, a warm smile on his face. it's not unusual for kekoa to be smiley in leo's presence; it never gets old, seeing young(er) folks be so passionate about medicine. "sure, i've got time —" he gets to his feet — "where are we going?"
“That must be why I bumped into you. The universe said we just hadn’t had enough of each other.” he laughed, bending down to retrieve his friends boxing gloves and hand them back over to him. “Gotta get them functioning somehow, right? How’ve you been doing?”
◆◆◆ "that must be it," kekoa says, smiling as he re-gathers his boxing gloves in his arms. between his thumb and index finger, he fiddles with their laces; absent-mindedly worrying. "yes you do — very important chemicals, those endorphins...and i've been good! busy, of course — but good." he's being vague on purpose; divuling is not interesting at the moment. "how about you? what's going on in your world?"
There were many methods Caspian used to cope with his stress, some much healthier than others. Today, he had chosen one of the healthier mechanisms, choosing to sweat it out at the Satellite Sports Complex. While he certainly wasn’t a gym rat, he knew that the endorphin release made him feel instantly better, and the exercise helped him tremendously when he was walking or standing all shift, so he’d become a regular.
Unfortunately, he was still a bit ‘in the zone’ as he exited, hair still wet from the locker room shower, and he found himself accidentally bumping right into someone as soon as he’d crossed the threshold from the door to the street. “Oh, shit!” he exclaimed, before covering his mouth “I mean, shoot, dammit…fuck…okay, I’m sorry. And pardon my, uh, french. Are you alright?”
◆◆◆ kekoa's idling by the exit of satellite sports, spewing psychology to the clerk behind the desk (she's studying for her masters) when someone bumps into him. "ah!" he startles, nearly dropping the boxing gloves in his hands. he turns around to make sure the other person's alright — they are, from the looks of it — and it's caspian. "caspian!" kekoa exclaims, brightening up at the sight of his friend. "don't i run into you enough at work?" he teases. "just kidding — how was your workout? endorphins up and running?"
open starter / * @roswellstarters
Saturday, August 21st — The Wild Pony.
“I turned thirty seven yesterday.” Roman said to particularly no one. Maybe he’d been thinking out loud, maybe he’d been trying to make up conversation. Who even knew at that point? “I’m thirty fuckin’ seven and wearin’ a damn pink hat with birthday princess written on it. What the hell is my life?” He chuckled, shaking his head at himself, as he brought his drink towards his lips.
◆◆◆ kekoa laughs and takes a drink of his negroni. "your life is beautiful, my friend," he smiles, clapping his birthday buddy on the back. "cheers to more life, i say! —" he sloppily clinks his glass with roman's — "'tis not an easy thing to go forth through the wilderness of life, but dammit, you've done it! and now the question becomes," he pauses for dramatic effect, "how will you celebrate your midlife crisis?"
❝ ‘course, ❞ josiah says, head dipping just once in a nod. and he means it. there’s not a whole hell of a lot outside of his mama that will pull him away from work— hell, he’s worked a double at the pony with a fever of a hundred and two before just ‘cause he needed the cash— but the minute the docile ( and unjustly feared ) little insects are brought into the question, well, goddamn if his hardened heart doesn’t melt into fucking marshmallow. ❝ 'thank you for not calling an exterminator. ❞ even with the dark plant matter rotting on the surface of the water, the pool ( and the whole damn house in general ) are a far sight nicer than anything he’s used to, and he doesn’t plan to pay them any mind anyhow. ❝ don’t worry, ❞ he says as he moves closer to the pool, sets his box and his supplies out a few feet away from the wicker chest in question, ❝ ain’t gonna report you to the HOA or anything, you’re fine. ❞ the words are paired with a quiet chuckle, mostly to himself, before he settles down on his knees in front of the chest and moves careful hands to open it. the second he lifts the lid, he spots a mass of honeycomb, and it’s a wonder the bees have been able to stay in such a cramped space so long with how many of them there are. he expects they’ve set up over the summer, and to his lack of surprise they’re not at all happy to have their quiet little sanctuary disturbed.
❝ ’s alright girls, just gonna calm you down so i can get you moving somewhere safe, hm? ❞ he hums in the direction of the hive, voice far gentler than it ever usually is, before reaching for his bee smoker. and then, to kekoa, ❝ take it you don’t go swimming very often? ❞
◆◆◆ "oh, you're very welcome! calling the exterminators on bees is just highly unethical — they do so much great work for us, you know? without them, we'd be screwed..." kekoa says, taking a seat in one of the wicker chairs by the pool. the young man's joke makes him laugh — "god, thank you for that! i'd say it's surprising how brutal middle-aged middle-class well-to-do folks can be, but it's totally not. my guess is that it has something to do with boredom. the malaise of it all..." he senses himself veering into analyst territory, which is perhaps not the most appropriate modality for the current context. he clears his throat and listens to the wind rustle the trees above.
◆◆◆ kekoa is impressed by how attentive the young man is to his craft; it makes him happy to see people involved in a hands-on skill, especially one that is so un-self-centered, so world-oriented. "i do swim often, just not here...it's much easier to go to satellite since it's so close to work." kekoa knows it's pretty silly to pay for the gym when he has the same equipment at home, but the gym has people in it. kekoa doesn't get to see a lot of people — not ones he doesn't work with or isn't related to, anyway. "but it's not good for the filters to leave it all messy like that, so...clean it i must," he smiles. "i'm curious — if you don't mind my asking, how did you get into beekeeping?"
.. shrubs ?? kasper was a threat to national security and all this guy cared about was his shrubs ?? kasper stood , dumbfounded , staring back at the other , almost as if he was waiting for the male to recognise his face from the government databases ( instead of simply knowing him as a rosemary trampler ) . although his guard wasn’t dropped for a second his voice fell to a more respectable register , and shoulders raised in a clueless shrug . “ alright . do you have anywhere else i could camp out that doesn’t wreck your weeds ?? i gotta get my trailer situated at the park near here but i haven’t managed to heckle the land owner for a plot yet . kinda livin’ out of my backpack for the time being and , trust me , it’s not as fun as the movies make it seem , “
◆◆◆ it's kekoa's instinct that this young man is not being actively targeted or chased by anyone — but just to be safe, he glances from one end of the sidewalk to the other. once he's confirmed that the immediate area is free of pursuers, he points one thumb over his shoulder and says, "how about the backyard? i have a feeling you'll be more comfortable there." it's probably not wise of kekoa to invite this stranger onto his property, but it's probably equally unwise to let him go in his current state — someone less understanding could find him. "come on," kekoa smiles, ushering the other to follow him down the pergola-covered path on the left side of his home.
arms are overfull with supplies hauled from the wooden bed of a ‘79 ford f-150 but josiah still makes swift work of shoving the rusted tailgate shut with the toe of his boot as he readjusts his grasp on the bulk of the box balanced against his chest. he hasn’t taken house calls in a while — any kind of calls, really, but it’s not like he’s got much time to be answering his phone these days — and it won’t be his wisest decision, leaving the shop so early on a busy afternoon, especially when this week’s paycheck comes around and he can see the impact of the missing hours, but damn if he can’t find it in him to say no. not when the alternative’s usually a call to an exterminator. the bees don’t deserve it. so instead, he’s here, nuc box in his arms constructed from sturdy cardboard and ready to collect and rehome a colony that’s evidently built an impressive hive somewhere they certainly don’t belong. he makes eye contact with the first person he spies outside the address he’s been given, nods and shifts the box to offer a slight wave of his hand. ❝ hey, you the one that called? ‘bout the bees? you wanna show me where they’re at? ❞
◆◆◆ that afternoon, just as he was about to finally clean the swimming pool, kekoa had discovered that a wonderful, busy colony of bees had picked his pool-maintenance chest as the site for their nest. he was honored, and at the same time, inconvenienced — retreiving his pool skimmer would mean disturbing the bees, and that was not optimal. "yes, that's me! thank you for coming on short notice," kekoa says, leading the other around the side of the home towards the backyard. the neatly arranged backyard furniture is in stark contrast with the pool, whose top layer is all black leaves. kekoa grimaces slightly. "pool is a bit unsightly, i know — but you'll understand why soon enough," he gestures towards the wicker chest by the pool's steps. "the little guys are in there."
— http: open starter . @roswellstarters ( anywhere ! )·
being six feet tall ( or just a little under , although he’d never admit it ) kasper was rather too big to be hiding in such a way , and yet there he was with his knees up to his ears crammed into the gap between somebody’s front garden hedge and a white picket fence . he wouldn’t be recruited for the CIA any time soon , at least not for his ability to camouflage , or lack thereof . “ i’m not here , you didn’t see me – i’m a ghost in the night , an enigma . if anyone comes knockin’ on your door tell ‘em you haven’t spotted any shifty lookin’ curly-haired characters skulking around these parts . makes me sound like some sort of criminal ; just to clear the air , i ain’t murdered nobody . and no , i’m not part of the ‘ onlyfans ‘ leaks either . i can’t clear your debt , i won’t judge your search history and no , i’m not named after the friendly fuckin’ ghost , “
◆◆◆ kekoa has seen a myriad of strange behaviors over the course of his life and career, and thus, the presense of this curly-haired individual in his yard is no cause for alarm. however, their proximity to his herb garden is a little concerning. "well. thank you for sharing those pieces of information with me," kekoa says, calmly clasping his hands together. "i'm not upset that you're here, but i do have to ask — would you mind hiding in a different spot? currently, the growth and prosperity of my rosemary shrub is at the mercy of your feet."
