#roswellstart

Mechanics got into arguments all the time, it’s as simple as that. Whether it be over another lost tool or a slip of a hand, you can bet a nail ( or a dozen ) that they’d end up crying about it. Well, screaming this time, making it sound like two cats scrapping over the head of a dumpster fish. And for once, Ivy wasn’t sure what caused the fight. The ride to the scrapyard was fine— the brothers ( nicknamed Thing 1 & 2 ) singing along to some blasting country music. Then, with the drive back, one wrong word and the two were at each others throats. Their hands flying over their heads with the veins on the sides of their necks popping through with anger.

That ride felt like two hours before they arrived to the shop. The brothers pouring out of the car, betting against each other about some more crap and whatnot. Which, by a shameful default, led Ivy to unload the truck of all the fresh supplies. “ Always fighting yet they still get paid more than me. ” Huffing out a complaint, she unlocks the tailgate. “ Gonna give 'em’ to those farmers, probably put them in their place. ” If the truck hadn’t been the shop’s car they would've flattened ( not slashed ) the tires by now— just to teach them a lesson; or four...

“ Give me a second, kay? ” They call out, picking up on the shuffle of shoes against concrete in her slouched position. With some metal screeching ( more so absolute screaming ) later, she stands, holding the once lodged piece of scrap — violently bent — from being forced between some junk. Clearly not her doing with the obvious discontent. “ Alright, ignore the back. What can I do for you? ” A piece of metal suddenly flies overhead, followed with loud gravelly curses... With a shrug, they return to their attention to the person. “ —Getting a fix or does someone got your baby? ”

The evening felt like the first time in months that the weather had been decent, temperatures just above twenty degrees even after the sun had fallen, no snow or clouds to put a damper on the day or her mental state. What Meilani had deemed decent weather was perhaps still not enough to excuse her current position, lying on the cold ground and staring up at the night sky. It was late enough that she didn’t think anyone would spot her, let alone consider what their thoughts would be if they did — it’s only with the sound of approaching footsteps and a note of concern in their voice that she allows her head to roll in their direction, allowing them to properly see that she was at least alive, if not well. “I promise you don’t need to call anyone.” It was a questionable reassurance at best, the girl still not making much effort to move, gaze lifting back to the space above her. “The sky just hasn’t been this clear in a while.” 

“Yes, mom - I did have breakfast. No, it wasn’t just a coffee, I’m fine! I told you.”

There was an agitation to Patrick’s tone, one that seemed almost permanently attached at this point whenever his mother started asking questions he was slowly but surely getting sick of. Some of them being “Are you taking care of yourself?” or “Are you doing okay?” The real answer was always no but Patrick knew what she wanted to hear and maybe, in a way, he needed to say it more in order to start believing it himself. Yet, it was tiring and Patrick was always tired anyways so this didn’t exactly help his case. He lowered his phone and let out a sigh before putting it back up against his ear, a fake smile spreading across his lips so it’d register on the other end of the line. “What about you?” He asked, trying to somehow coordinate holding a phone, a leash that had two dogs attached and a cup of coffee when suddenly a squirrel ran across their path. “Oh shit,” Patrick breathed. “No, not you - I - yeah, mom? I gotta go.”

That was all he managed to choke out before his day turned into one that seemed like it was taken right out of some over the top romcom if you took away both, the romance and the comedy - at least for the protagonist. One of his dogs had spotted the squirrel and before he could say anything, Meadow, his usually rather calm Samoyed, gave her leash a good tug that had Patrick stumbling forward, causing him to drop his phone along with his coffee in the process. The sound was enough for his dogs to focus back on him but the damage was done and he could feel at least one pair of eyes on him in a way that caused a flush to creep up his neck. “Well…that was embarrassing,” he said to the person the coffee had splashed in front of and he was quick to reach down to retrieve his phone. “I’m so sorry about that. Is everything okay?” And now, on top of everything, he sounded exactly like his mother.

"hey! HEY! don't make me tap the sign!" nate shouted after a group of teenagers huddled by the detergent dispenser. they were loading it full of quarters, taking pod after pod to put into a machine with no clothes. it was clear they were trying to fill the entire laundromat with soap suds and break one of the washers, that was already on the fritz, in the process. when the teens turned their attention to the attendant, he did tap the sign hanging on the front of the desk he was sitting behind. it read one detergent pod per washer. they stopped their giggling and dropped their handfuls of pods before they ran towards the door. "damn..." he came out from behind the counter to pick up the dropped detergent. "if they were really thinking the prank through, they would have just bought a whole box of tide pods and brought them in. maybe i wouldn't have noticed them using so many pods then. it was kind of hard not to notice them spending fifteen minutes in front of the dispenser for no reason."

Keeping one’s arrival out of the mouth of locals was hard on any given day, considering the small town mentality that seemed to have Roswell in a choke hold, but combine that with a bit of renown and over eager tourists, it was left as no surprise that the safer bet would have simply been to stay hidden within the confines of her home. Unfortunately, the buzz surrounding the name Tiziri Sadaoui has never been talk of wise or civil decisions. It’s a point she seems eager to make clear in that instant, as a watchful gaze makes sure the images captured by a male who had seemed to forget what personal space was were cleared from his photos and then from his trash, followed by a colorful threat should he seem to consider repeating his offense. Yet, when she turns back around, the smile that creeps onto her features in response to the other’s expression makes her appear almost angelic, a stark contrast to the appalling words that had left her lips mere seconds ago. “What? Too harsh?”

when: tuesday - 8:47 am

who: open 

The day had barely begun and Leo was already running behind, his brown and white colored husky, Okja, leading the way to his doggy day care. He spoke a few soft, but stern words to his pup in Korean, asking him to slow down and they would be there in due time. Leo rolled his eyes with a chuckle, loving how excited Okja was to get to his day care, but as he did, the leash tugged a bit too hard and Leo lost control. “ Dammit !” He called, seeing his dog run up to a nearby tree. The man’s button up was a bit too tight and not made for running after giant wolf-like dogs. 

Worn black boots collide almost harshly with the cement as she jumps, without warning, from her vantage point, bandaged hands dusting themselves off onto her pants for no real purpose as she's just as quickly reaching back out for the items she's collected on the ground, allowing her the chance to better analyze them and their worth now that she’s on solid ground. She discovered many years ago that it was almost criminal, the things people - and more often companies, threw to the trash without a second thought, items that had sometimes not even gotten a chance at a first life let alone a rebirth they could withstand. Though, speaking of criminal, Lyra’s entirely unsure as to the exact specifics when it came to laws regarding what it was that she was doing, which is precisely why the sound of footsteps has her turning so quickly, an expression of half guilt washing over her features. “Is this the part where I ask you to believe this isn’t what it looks like? ...even if it’s clearly what it looks like?”

Open to: All

Jaxson knew one thing that kept him for losing his mind and that was exercising, So He asked a friend to join him, He threw the towel over his shoulder after doing some laps inside the swimming pool after he did his exercises for the day.” Hey thanks for coming with me.” He turned to the person next to him with a slight smile.