⌗ 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗦.

[scrubshqstarters]

🔬    ‧₊˚    ⋆   ــــــــــﮩ٨ـ   @𝖲𝖢𝖱𝖴𝖡𝖲𝖧𝖰𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗦   is   a   starter   blog   affiliated   with   a   roleplay   group,   @scrubshq   !

please,   tag   your   starters   with   the   following   as   it   will   ensure   we   won't   miss   out   on   anything   while   reblogging:

#scrubs.starter

@scrubshqstarters

[aftercure]

💋        ⠀      open starter      ⠀      ✶      ⠀   @scrubshqstarters

💋        ⠀      location      ⠀      ✶      ⠀      lexley hallway

even   if   she   did   try   to   hide   her   thoughts,   her   face   would   never   let   her   do   it   ⸺   arms   crossed   on   her   chest,   glossed   lips   pressed   together   and   it’d   be   easy   to   assume   she’s   the   one   who   is   watching   intruders   move   in   to   her   place,   not   the   other   way   around.   “   it’s   like   someone   dropped   a   bunch   of   tourists   in   the   louvre   and   told   them   to   start   redecorating,   ”   brown   hues   focused   on   the   workers   changing   the   old   lexington   sign   replaced.   her   jaw   tightens,   clearly   pissed   but   zoela   will   die   before   she   says   it   outright.   she   knows   every   corner   of   this   hospital,   didn’t   even   step   her   foot   back   in   after   leaving   despite   her   mother   being   the   chief   of   surgery,   until   now.   “   i   spent   years   getting   out   of   that   place.   i   don’t   even   hate   them,   i   just   don’t   trust   them   ⸺   they’d   rather   sell   each   other   for   a   vip   surgery   than   actually   help   anyone,   ”   her   voice   full   of   bitterness,   if   eyes   could   throw   fire   bolts,   her   certainly   would.   she   always   had   a   razor   sharp   tongue   and   it   was   hard   to   contain   ;   she   doesn’t   even   know   who   she’s   speaking   to,   she   doesn’t   know   if   they’re   from   lexington   or   kingsley   because   she   never   cared   to   remember   anyone’s   faces   but   frankly,   she   doesn’t   care.   “   i   swear,   if   a   lex   attending   walks   into   my   OR   with   that   patronizing   ‘we’re   all   a   team   now’   face,   i   will   scalp   them   with   a   ten   blade,   ”

[creekerss]

OPEN STARTER -- @scrubshqstarters

LOCATION -- ARCADIA MALL (ESSENTIAL STORE!)

it's not like isadora had moved into a new apartment or even moved out of new york for a new apartment that required renovation or hell-- even new furniture. she was just in a spending mood-- when was she not? when she wasn't being a rn, arcadia mall was one of her go-to for anything and everything-- and right now, isadora was in the mood for new furniture for her apartment. she's in an essential store with household commodities-- the store gave off the same vibes as ikea and allmodern.

currently, isadora is scanning through lamps. when she picks one that looks sexy on the eyes, her eyes dart across the section she's in.

"hey! don't hate me but can i respectfully have you stop what you're doing to help me decide if this lamp is the one for me?" she smiles innocently.

"like do you think it looks good side by side with me?" she asks before she poses with puckered lips. "wait, actually let me just turn it on and tell me how good the lighting looks with me in it and we'll decide if i should go with actually buying this, okay?" she continues on.

[handsnurtured-deactivated202508]

open  starter  : @scrubshqstarters ( 1/5 ) muse  : janelle  edwards location  : whisper  &  poison

there  was  a  macabre  sort  of  comfort  that  could  be  found  within  the  walls  of  a  bar  with  specialty  drinks  that  served  as  a  reminder  of  the  place  she'd  just  left.  janelle  didn't  come  to  the  bar  often,  but  she'd  had  a  particularly  draining  day  and  opted  to  deviate  from  her  initial  plans  of  ubering  straight  home.  she  had  a  scalpel  shot  in  front  of  her,  notebook  right  next  to  it,  opened  with  a  pen  in  hand.  she  might've  been  off  duty,  but  that  didn't  stop  her  from  scribbling  thoughts  down  into  the  book.  whether  it  be  something  she  remembered  from  earlier  in  the  day,  or  a  new  thought  she  didn't  want  to  forget,  she  was  never  seen  without  a  notebook  close  by.  she  was  aware  of  the  presence  near  her,  glancing  up  to  spare  them  a  quick  glance.  ❝  you  know  you  can  join  me.  right  ?  i  don't  bite.  ❞

[labcoated]

𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧  𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫  at  arcadia  roosevelt  (  third  floor,  bookstore  )  featuring  𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧  𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐞  (  0/5  )    @scrubshqstarters

dorian  was  at  the  bookstore,  aimlessly  wandering  about.  or  at  least  to  anybody  looking  at  him  that  would  be  what  it  appeared  like.  he  had  his  airbuds  in  one  ear,  keeping  his  attention  focused  on  the  music  coming  through  but  his  eyes  were  peeled  on  the  shelves  around  him,  as  if  they  were  telling  him  a  story  all  on  their  own.  which,  to  be  fair,  they  were.  the  story  just  wasn't  exactly  what  he  wanted  it  to  be,  or  what  he  had  expected  it  to  be  either.  dorian  had  a  medical  journal  in  his  hand,  on  top  of  one  of  the  novels  he  had  been  looking  through  earlier.  he  was  doing  his  best  to  balance  everything  out.  as  if  he  was  worried  people  would  really  care  or  judge  him  for  anything  that  he  was  looking  through  in  a  bookstore  of  all  places.  his  shoulders  shrugged  as  he  glanced  through  the  shelves  and  he  sighed,  talking  out  loud  but  really  more  thinking  to  himself,  “you't  think  this  place  would  sell  more  books,  but  i've  seen  so  many  other  things  it's  crazy  to  call  it  a  bookstore.”  he  shook  his  head.  he  didn't  even  know  what  it  was  these  days  with  half  of  everything  dealing  with  so  many  other  things  instead  of  books.  calendars,  puzzles,  games,  those  little  pop  figurines.  it  felt  like  everything  was  in  the  bookshop. 

[silkbite]

open starter !! (@scrubshqstarters) || location: whisper & poison!! - off shift, still wired

it was just past nine when delaney slipped into whisper & poison, the kind of late that meant the early shift had already shuffled out and the overnight crowd hadn’t come limping in yet. the bar sat in that rare, golden lull — soft jazz curling into the corners of the dimly lit space, interrupted only by the low thrum of a conversation here and the scrape of a chair leg there. a few familiar faces dotted the room — some buried in their phones, some cradling their drinks like lifelines — but she didn’t greet any of them. she made a beeline for her usual booth — the one in the back near the window, where the condensation fogged up the view of the street just enough to make it feel a little unreal. her coat was slung across the seat beside her, claiming the space like a silent barrier, while her hands curled around a sweating glass of flatline — tequila, chili, lime — more fire than flavor. she hadn’t taken a sip. not yet. she looked like she’d just stepped off a shift, and maybe she had — dark scrub pants still on, a hoodie zipped halfway up over a tank top that clung like second skin. her red hair was twisted up haphazardly, and her hospital badge was still clipped to her waistband, turned backward. no one had the heart to tell her to take it off anymore. no one dared. “you ever notice,” she said after a long stretch of silence, voice low and half-laced with something sharp, “how we all come here to forget the worst parts of the day—” she gestured vaguely toward the menu scrawled in chalk behind the bar, “—and the drinks are named after the shit we’re trying not to think about?” her words weren’t aimed at anyone in particular. maybe the bartender. maybe the booth across from her, still empty but marked with the kind of presence that dared someone to sit there. maybe herself. she leaned back, shoulder pressed to the cool wood, letting her eyes skim over the space with the kind of detachment that came from burnout so deeply ingrained it felt like second nature. the half-lit amber glow softened the sharp edges of her exhaustion but didn’t erase them. under her eyes — bruises that hadn’t come from fists, just from too many nights she didn’t sleep and too many codes she couldn’t forget. “it’s funny,” she added, a bitter little smile tugging at the edge of her mouth, “how we can handle the blood and screaming and panic just fine… but give us a silent bar and our own damn thoughts for more than five minutes, and suddenly everyone’s reaching for the mezcal like its’s morphine.” the drink still hadn’t been touched. she was nursing the burn before it even hit her throat.

[wildbrokenmosaics]

Where: Code Latte

With: Anyone (0/5) @scrubshqstarters

When: June 2025

Alexandrea would’ve been sitting in her regular corner of the café, which she is a frequent patron of. An avid space that is one of her favourite locations to visit in town — having found the atmosphere and environment conducive to get her work done in. Ever since she transferred to Kingsley Memorial Hospital, the young surgeon has managed to make Queens’ best kept secret into her most preferred safe haven for when she needed the calming refuge of the haunt in place of her old one, Lisa's Spoon, back on the Upper East Side. Both fulfilled the main criteria of being away from the ever bustling rumor gossip mill of her fellow coworkers, which made any workspace at the hospital impossible to find any peaceful quiet amidst all of the chaos needed in order for her to concentrate and achieve the desired productivity she required to conquer all of the patients on her caseload charting paperwork that she had to catch up on filling up in a timely manner with an efficiency for accomplishing it all flawlessly.

Plus, it definitely didn’t hurt as an added benefit that the café never smelled like the atmosphere is drowning in the suffocating scent of antiseptic. Even if she is a surgeon and the smell of an operating room usually brought her much comforting joy, any medical professional would need a much welcomed reprieve from the overwhelmingly strong sterile air breathed in through the nose every once in a while with inevitable eventuality. Though, the young brunette would never be caught dead giving that brutally honest admission verbally as a confession being mentioned to her workplace insubordinates.

The surgeon has been drowning knee-deep in the recording of crucially important fine-print details of a medical case from one of her patients. Working to be a surgeon didn’t just mean that you’d cut a sick patient open just to fix what’s damaged inside of them and that your job would be completed since they’d be assumed to be healed thereafter. What it actually really meant is that she could not afford anything breaking her focus and causing her to screw up her fine-tooth combing detailing in the patient’s history because it could mean any discrepant inaccuracies being the difference between life and death for the said patient and whether you’d have taken a life that you’re responsible for in accountability.

Finally managing to look up from her laptop after having been hunched over it to the extent that a knot formed in her neck from the sheer tension when she completed filling in the mass majority of the boringly, snooze worthy administrative work that she had to get done, she straightened her posture and took a large gulp of her now lukewarm cup of liquid gold in the form of a double-shot espresso latte.

Seeing someone new enter from her optimally vantage viewpoint of the calming scenic sights at the desk she is using in the café, the young woman greeted with a politely, curt friendly smile of prideful satisfaction in a highly clear, eloquent quip from a slightly mild amusement.  ❝ You know, as a trained medical professional, we’re supposed to be warned about the effects of the overconsumption of the addictive drug called caffeine. Notwithstanding, the truly sad, overcomplicated and ironic truth is that we, as surgeons, simply cannot do our jobs to save others’ lives without having it for sustenance to survive and heal others without first destroying our own and putting our healths at risk in order to properly function at our jobs. ❞

[aftercure]

💋       open   to   anyone,     uncapped, @scrubshqstarters.

💋      @   pier   47,   roosevelt   island. 

 “   hey   ⸺   i   wasn’t   sure   how   you   take   it   so   i   just   went   with   safe;   no   sugar,   splash   of   cream.   it’s   a   coffee   roulette.   ”   she   lets   out   a   soft   chuckle,   clearly   amused   by   her   own   words   yet   her   gaze   is   stuck   in   the   patients   card   right   in   front   of   her   as   she’s   occupying   what   was   the   last   free   bench   with   a   table.   “   also,   i   brought   cookies.   not   surgical-grade   cookies   or   whatever   that   is,   they’re   warm   and   sugary   and   not   from   the   vending   machine,   which   is   probably   a   treat   for   your   stomach,   eat   up.   sorry,   i’ll   be   with   you   in   a   second   ⸺ ”   she’s   frowning,   her   focus   fully   on   the   pieces   of   paper   as   she’s   flipping   through   the   pages;   almost   as   if   she’s   hoping   to   find   an   answer   in   what   she   has   memorized   anyway.   “   okay.   i’ll   take   care   of   it   later   …   oh   my   god,   listen   up   !   i   just   assisted   on   this   gallbladder   removal   that   my   intern   had,   you   know,   the   big   solo   surgery   ?   and   she   just   sneezes   in   the   middle   of   it.   like,   full   sneeze.   mask   on,   obviously,   but   still   ;   i   didn’t   see   it   coming   and   i   almost   handed   her   a   clamp   instead   of   suction,   she’s   avoiding   me   ever   since   and   …   oh   shit   !   ”   a   green   straw   from   her   medium   strawberry   lemonade   slips   out   of   her   lips   as   she   finally   bothers   to   make   an   eye   contact,   only   to   realize   this   is   not   who   she   was   supposed   to   meet   up   in   between   surgeries.

[widogst]

── #OPEN STARTER for lexington university hospital staff @scrubshqstarters

It was too early. Far too early. And that only meant one thing: coffee. However, the coffee machine that was closest to Archer’s office had been on the blink for a number of weeks, so he wasn’t hopeful he’d be getting enough caffeine to get through the morning.

Running on a minute amount of hope and two hours sleep, Archer pressed the button for simple black coffee and tiredly watched as a light began to flash. The machine spluttered and thumped and after what felt like an age of waiting, only half a cup’s worth of coffee came out.

“God damn,” he huffed. “Does this bloody thing ever work properly?” He then turned to whoever had joined him in the hopes of a drink and said, “Does this ever happen to you or am I just constantly at odds with the universe?”

[foxcuts]

──── 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫: 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬. @scrubshqstarters

today was the day. two months since jett maddox had last set foot on the grounds of lexington - two months since the board had quietly, but pointedly, asked him to disappear. he had. begrudgingly. this made it strike three, technically, but jett had learned that rules didn’t apply to him the way they did others. not when your last name still carried weight, not when the scars you left behind were half-covered by undeniable talent. his sneakers hit the concrete with a rhythmic pound, breathing sharp but even, the early morning chill biting at his cheeks. the sun hadn’t quite risen, casting the hospital in bruised hues of blue and gray. it was almost peaceful, if you ignored the growing burn in his lungs and the way his brain wouldn’t shut the hell up. his hoodie was half-zipped, black and threadbare at the cuffs, hanging off his frame like a ghost of better years. wind combed through sandy blond hair that curled slightly at the ends, damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead. his eyes were trained ahead but his mind had wandered somewhere far darker, and he didn’t see the figure until - bam. a solid hit to the shoulder. he stumbled, breath catching in his throat as he snapped to attention. “jesus—” his hand went instinctively to his side, checking the pocket for his phone - or maybe just dignity. his gaze flicked up, assessing, guarded. “you good?” voice low, clipped. he didn’t recognize them right away, which made him even more tense. “you work here?” he hadn’t meant for it to sound like an accusation. but for jett maddox, everything kind of did.