not gonna peg you, bro.

        chase sui wonders & she/they / nonbinary‷ watch out , bridget matusiak has crash-landed into roswell !! they look twenty-three years old and celebrate their birthday on july 25th. they are from roswell, new mexico, reside in tripp’s trailer park and are currently working as a documentary filmmaker and clerk at blockbuster video. one thing you should know about them is they wrote a semi-successful twilight fanfic in 2012 that amassed thousands of followers on tumblr‷   ( nora, she/her, 26, gmt ) bridget is single & lives in the tripps trailer park with roommate elliot liu! ( and a pair of domesticated rats called sid & nancy ).     (  pinterest.   playlist.   muse tag.   open starters. )

for: @roswellstarters​​ ··· location: the crashdown cafe time: early morning

Esme sometimes just needed a little caffeine, and that was the reason she found herself at The Crashdown Cafe. Unfortunately, the spread of milkshakes was always more tempting than the coffee. She still had some time before having to head to the radio station. Still, Esme took her time looking over the menu, ever the indecisive type. She turned to the person beside her, talking absentmindedly. “I never know what to choose, you know? Strawberry, chocolate, maybe vanilla.” She bit her lip. “What are you having?”

OPEN STARTER

trigger warning: clowns location: greystone complex open to: anyone n everyone, come one come all

“Let me be super clear — I’m not afraid of clowns. What I am afraid of, however, is Rick in apartment 7 who has taken it upon himself to put go full Pennywise and roam the halls at all hours,” Stevie defended from the steps leading into her apartment building, casting a weary glance toward the door as though the aforementioned clown were going to come barreling out at any given moment. “I don’t know if he thinks it’s scary or funny or whatever, but if I hear those stupid giant shoes flopping down the hallway one more time, I am moving. Fuck the security deposit.”

       between rehearsing gigs with fish brains, attempting to finish her college horror movie short, and grabbing whatever shifts at blockbuster she could wrangle with both of her greedy little hands, bridget didn’t have an abundance of time for regular, run-of-the-mill ‘hanging out’. it was a rare saturday that she’d found herself with a cleared schedule and so, free of the usual tasks that occupied her time, she’d decided to pay a visit to ender, archie, and soggy, affectionately known as the greystone goons. it was only on her way out ( a bag of their trash in tow ) that she found herself running into stevie, a colleague whose shifts occasionally crossed over with bridget’s, fellow film nerd, and certainly on the way to becoming a firm friend. “rick’s still living here?” bridget responded, tossing the garbage into the communal bin store. “nah, fuck that shady old charity case. i thought he’d died years ago. someone should seriously put the poor guy out of his misery. if i were you, i’d invest in some high-strength anti-freeze and bake him a casserole surprise.”

“I like that ‘no you girls never know’ song,” Rollo said, walking away from the stage. They handed the other their water bottle. “You were jumping around a lot,” he said with a grin. ( @roswellstarters​ )

         “this is probably like, the lamest reason anyone has ever had to seek medical advice…” bridget stated as they held an ice pack to their inflamed eye, looking like a bee-stung animal crossing character. they should’ve guessed that the vegan-friendly biodegradable glitter off amazon was too good to be true. besides weren’t they meant to be boycotting bezos or whatever bo burnham said ?   “it isn’t even a fun story, like that time soggy got someone else’s shit on his face when he dropped his cell in a portapotty and had to stay off work with pink eye for like... two whole weeks.” ...or was that archie ? who cared — at this point the greystone goons were basically interchangeable. “if i miss beabadoobee because of this, i’m literally going to riot. that bitch is like, my soul sister. this is my one chance to impress her and i look like fuckin’ vegeta when he gets K.O’d by frieza.” not that anybody in the medical tent would even understand what that meant, unless they were hiding a secret dragon ball obsession. “think i could pull a david bowie and bring back the fashion eye patch?”

                                                   to: open                                         located:  anywhere.

                        DARRYN CAN’T RECALL    the last time he was forced to do nothing,   the last time he had time to go to the movies   or the bar   or   order a cappuccino.      he loathed the occasion and relished in it at the same time, so forgiveness should be granted as he slurps down the rest of his water with a video heard on his phone.       “   holy shit,  ”     he guffaws  ,   not an unusual sound to be heard for the poor barista who’d seen him smiling down at his phone like a dumb ass for the past half hour.    “  you gotta see this, this shit’s real life funny.  ”    he turns his device towards the person closest to him,   a video of a dog is seen on the screen with a man narrating him.    “  it’s like the dog’s talking, funny as shit, i’m telling you.  ”

         “so this is like, obviously super subjective or whatever, but if i had to pick just five people, i guess i’d pick jaden and jett, my parents — thanks for raising me. you’re like, the coolest cats that someone could ask for when it comes to queer role models and i fuckin’ love jamming with you. elliot, for constantly putting up with my bullshit, being the best roomie a gal could ask for, and for being the whole reason i’m in fish brains in the first place. soggy for being just an all-round top laugh. i don’t think i’ve ever spent a second with him without like, totally squirting juice out my blow hole. and alicia because... i guess i just feel completely myself around them, which is a pretty hard thing to have when you’re still kinda... figuring yourself out. but there’s just no judgement with them. plus, they make a mean vegan discada. honourable mentions to super cool people go out to striker, mattie, adiya, brook and ender. you’re the real ones.”   (  @jadenlapointe @jettsfm @elliotfms @scggy @notaliciakeys  )

      “just one? that's like, totally unrealistic. i saw everything everywhere all at once and that movie is like... it's a fucking mindfuck. a masterpiece, if i do say so myself, to quote my lord and saviour julia fox. i loved it. so groovy. but other than that, i guess like... maybe into the spiderverse ? i'm not a massive fan of the MCU — i'm actually a massive hater — but i fuckin' loved that shit. other than that like... baz luhrmann's romeo + juliet. so tasty. or the original scream movie. sidney prescott was like, my icon growing up. i like to think that if i were in a horror movie, i'd have final girl energy. we did this short at uni once where we used corn syrup and red food colouring for the gore, so i can confirm that i look fantastic covered in blood.”

      “okay, so while i'm not that picky about physical characteristics, it kind of goes without saying that she'd be elven? most probably like, a nine-foot tall half-elf of tiefling descent. great body — naturally — translucent skin, maybe even in a funky colour like violet or green? plant sim realness — someone who's able to like, pull me up on my shit but also give it back in equal measure. wow, totally feel like i'm auditioning for love island right now. i think it's important to me to have someone with goals. i don't necessarily care what, whether it's like, avenge her bloodline, defend the realm from the iron fist of orc dictatorship, or like something more anarchist like challenging stereotypes around tieflings to prove that those with daemonic blood deserve the right to be consulted in matters of elven law, too. but honestly? the thing about dream girls is they don't exist, and i guess i'd just feel pretty fuckin' lucky to find someone who actually exists that’s hot and confident with a semi-working knowledge of the twilight universe, a decent enough taste in music, and a willingness to at least try d&d.” 

      “uh, probably like... watch all of agnes varda’s films. then move onto maya deren. oh, ingmar bergman, too! i’m like, seriously behind on my bergman and the flying saucer are showing this movie bergman island soon and i’m guessing a working knowledge of ingmar’s like, pretty crucial. i’d also dig out my twilight jane fanfic from the archives, and option it to be turned into a movie in three parts. she deserves her story to be told, why shouldn’t it be by an emotionally stunted teenage girl. other than that, i’d probably do a bill nighy in about time and just... read literally every book i’d always wanted to and never got the chance to. and form an alt-rock post-punk feminist band where we sing exclusively about slasher movies, serial killers and buzzfeed unsolved mysteries.”

     it must have been difficult for alicia to deny the flame that bridget made burn within her. how much longer would she play this game with herself? she longed and yearned, but dismissed the ache for something else. justified it that everyone admired people’s beauty like this. somewhere in the want for bridget there must have been something platonic. somewhere deep inside that alicia had dug down into and climbed out with, clinging to it for dear life. they were friendly. the thought made alicia’s jaw clench. wasn’t it enough? why not? it was always the pretty girls, the cool girls that she wanted to be best friends with. to get close to them; to spend the afternoons with them. they wanted to get lost in the passing time so days turned to late evenings turned to early mornings quickly, quietly so suddenly, oh no it was too late to go home, just stay the night. a line that, admittedly yes, alicia hoped to deliver sometime later to get bridget to stay. the want to sleep next to her became the wish she offered them.

but to be told to close their eyes? alicia pouted before following directions to show their discontent. she would have preferred to keep her eyes open. she had already been thrown off track and lost focus on dinner plans the moment bridget touched her face. her thumb brushing her skin added fuel to the fire alicia tried so hard to ignore. it was useless though; the contact only pulled her closer to bridget so she was practically nestled between their legs by the time the eyelash had been taken off. it was difficult for her not to simply melt into their body. it wouldn’t be so bad? she thought, to heat up so they could be molded into one. maybe that should be her wish, to become one with bri–no, no, no. what was she thinking? a better wish would be to stop thinking altogether so there would be no more thoughts about being one or sharing a bed.

alicia stepped away from the her friend and the counter they sat on. she shut her eyes and gave a sharp blow where she thought bridget’s hand might be before opening her eyes and smiling wryly. “okay, now that that’s over with,” she let out a deep breath, “we can do dinner.” she nodded, self-soothing herself to calm her arousal by running her hands through her hair. she marched over to the fridge, then turned back to bridget. “i forgot what you said you wanted.”

closed eyes looked a bit like a turtle’s shell, or the rings inside a tree that wound themselves into an abacus that spoke of when the mother earth had borne it. bridget counted the lines across alicia’s eyelids as they made their wish. a gnawing inside of her selfishly hoped that alicia had wished she would kiss her. or touch her. or anything, rather than just imagining what it might feel like, retreating ( as bridget often did ) into the web of her own imagination. but mostly, bridget wished she could be a person who did things rather than a person who rattled their thoughts about doing things around like bingo balls in their brain, until the moment had passed, the caller had sounded out ‘two little ducks’, and mrs. dobrinski who worked at the laundromat had shot her hand up for the prize. bridget was sure, if she thought hard enough, she could think herself into the bottom of a well and drown beneath unsaid longings.

one of her wishes came true. thoughts snagged like bubble gum on a shoe and snapped the moment alicia moved closer, bridget’s knees instinctively parting, a heat in her she hadn’t known herself capable of when she thought they might close the distance, place their hand on her thigh, slide it up until fingers met resistance. it welled in her throat like the physical ache of a hard-boiled sweet swallowed whole, heart thrumming gu-dunk, gu-dunk, an increasingly fervent tap dance in her ribs, until… until… alicia stepped away, a scissor glide over a ribbon of something that might have been. bridget thought of those claw machines they’d played on the beach, the phantom promise of a cabbage patch kid hanging in metal fingers when it was snatched from her remote-controlled grasp at the last second. what was it that meryl streep had sung while shaving amanda seyfried’s legs?  slipping through my fingers. she made a mental note to add it to the mixtape for alicia she’d been slowly whittling into perfection, but it probably wasn’t appropriate, considering they’d been mother and daughter. “sure. dinner. yeah, sure!” bridget responded, despondent, as alicia made their way to the fridge. part of bridget was jealous of the icy chill alicia must surely have felt as they rested their head against the fridge ; she could do with that chill herself, for the heat welling up inside of her was far from tepid.

“um… don’t think i decided. let’s go with… enchiladas!” bridget started, pushing off from the kitchen counter and crossing the kitchen to meet alicia. “i can do nachos as a side. i mean, how hard can it be, right? it’s just tortilla chips, with like, cheese, guac, and salsa and whatever. i mean… a literal child could do it. like, an idiot. someone with a triple-digit SAT score, even. not that having a triple-digit SAT score makes you an idiot. i’m sure many people of noble professions had like, a triple-digit SAT score.” stop talking bridget. stop. talking. her classic case of foot-in-mouth disease came back with a doberman’s bite.  god, was it obvious that her entire life bridget had based like, ninety percent of her self-worth around academic merit? hands looped around alicia’s waist as she busied herself in the fridge. bridget buried her face in the crook of their neck and breathed in the scent of sandalwood that clung like perfume to their skin. “and while i mess about with salsa you can show me your aunt’s enchilada recipe…” her hands moved snakelike about the other’s waist, bodies pulled taught as two sardines in a tin. she slid her fingers across alicia’s stomach to splay against their abdomen, hot against her palm while the chill air tickled her knuckles. “you can put me to work... i’ll be your little sous chef. yes, chef, no chef!” she tried to act like the premise of being told what to do didn’t bring her out in hives. bridget had always been a fraction too domineering, overly vocal in group activities, a ‘my way or the highway’ approach that had got her kicked out of her high school swing dance band and made her incredibly unpopular at school. but there was an ease when it came to alicia ; it felt like they wanted the same things.