#roswellstarters

[fervvor]

where: wild pony @ the bar with: @roswellstarters​

“m’coming down with something,” with a celery stick mack points to his bloody mary, as if to say obviously. as if it’s strictly medicinal. “and you’re...,” he gestures the celery conversationally before taking a chomp, “what, loitering? get the novelty margarita, with the bacon or something. get some protein in.” gruff, passive. but his head cants in mild humor. “who says you can’t have a four course meal at the bar?”

[hellsfell]

       (  @roswellstarters​ !  )     ‘  daisy  ,   no !  ’    they  chase  after  their  7  year  old  daughter  ,   daisy’s  twin  clinging  to  her  mother’s  hand  as  sabrina  pulls  her  towards  the  other  child  .   it’s  when  daisy  is  just  introducing  herself  to  the  poor  bystander  when  sabrina  catches  up  ,   grabbing  her  other  twin’s  hand  .    ‘  i  am  so  sorry  about  her  ;   despite  me  teaching  her  stranger  danger  ,   it  still  doesn’t  stop  her  from  asking  if  anyone  off  the  streets  believes  pluto  is  still  a  planet  .  ’  

[strqwberrymoons]

        (  @roswellstarters​ !  )     ‘  i  think  modern  alice  in  wonderland  would  wear  red  lips  ,   right ?  ’   they’re  fixing  the  lining  of  the  lips  in  a  handheld  mirror  before  closing  it  ,   twirling  in  their  light  blue  dress  they’d  ordered  months  ahead  of  time  .    ‘  i  feel  basic  ,   i’m  not  basic  ,   am  i ?  ’  

[ki-jung]

WHEN: Sunday, January 2nd, mid-afternoon. WHERE: Pluto Pet Pound & Store. WHO: Open. @roswellstarters​

Why am I here? The thought is both intrusive and persistent, and while it remains almost entirely eclipsed by the sense of building need Key has been feeling as of late, he can’t help but let it pass through his mind regardless. It makes the awkwardness with which he holds himself only all the more obvious, normally graceful movements seeming stiff and almost forced. He wanders around the shop side of Pluto’s, looking at various items like collars, toys, food dishes, and leads, and he pretends to be entirely casual about the way he keeps glancing towards the pound side of it. It almost seems like he’s waiting for someone, though he hasn’t asked anybody to come with him. Funny, that, since the only reason he’s even here is how fucking lonely he’s been lately. Key craves companionship, and that craving has lead him directly to this place. Only... he doesn’t even know who he is looking for.

A sudden turn, and he finds himself face-to-face with somebody, very nearly knocking into them and only narrowly saving the leash he’s currently holding in his hands from falling to the floor. Flustered --- for once in his life ---- Key can’t help the way the words are tumbling out of his mouth. “Do --- do you think cats like to go on walks? I was going to buy a lead, but um, I wasn’t sure. I sometimes see them, like, being dragged around on online videos because they’re absolutely not having it, and then other times they seem to love it. Maybe it’s just based on personality? Fuck. I don’t even know what they’re going to be like yet. I haven’t...” Been brave enough to actually go look? Key honestly doesn’t know why this feels like such a big deal, but at least he’s managed to stop himself from rambling any more than that. 

[hellsfell]

         (  @roswellstarters​ !  )    ‘  i  know  my  seven  year  made  it  ,   and  no  one  trusts  kids  -  but  trust  me  .  ’   holds  out  the  hot  boba  tea  to  the  other  .    ‘  she  knows  what  she’s  doing  and  it’s  so  good  .  ’   and  free  at  cost !  

[ki-jung]

open starter for the storm surgery plot drop! ft. @chibanao, @archiefm, @wyliefms, @roswellwinter​, @jadenlapointe, & @nicvansant.

Doctors make the worst patients. It’s common knowledge amongst the people who work within the medical field, a cliché only because it just so happens to be true, and Dr. Ki-jung Park is certainly no exception to that. Despite coming in with injuries of his own, and despite the fact that he probably shouldn’t have attempted to come in at all, Key has been spending all of his time here frantically flitting between one person or another. Normally, one of his colleagues might have intervened, might have tried to force him into a bed given the substantial amount of bruising slowly bleeding a blueish-purple spread through his abdomen, but it’s all hands on deck, and nobody has time to babysit him. The cuts he attained were superficial, at least, so there’s only a minimal amount showing on the outside, especially with him still being in his street clothes right now. He hasn’t had time to change into anything else. Not yet.

Uncertain as to whether or not the person whose bedside he’s at has actually been examined (their system is down as a result of the storm; they still have power because of the back-up generators, but accessing charts or even being able to file them has to be on a temporary hold), Key manages to keep the wince of pain that threatens to flit over his features under wraps. Nobody would benefit from knowing how he’s feeling right now. “You should stay laying down. Has anyone seen you yet?”