Realistic or Modern ʀᴏsᴡᴇʟʟ (ᴇxᴛʀᴀ ᴛᴇʀʀᴇsᴛʀɪᴀʟ + ᴘʏʀʀʜɪᴄ)

[lvcid]

ROSWELL

HISTORY

On July 8, 1947, a mysterious object crash
landed onto a farm in Roswell, New Mex-
ico in the middle of a violent thunder-
storm. What was once declared a flying
saucer was quickly downgraded to
being nothing more than a stray
weather balloon—one of the
biggest coverups in American history.
So, what was it that the government
didn’t want the public to know? Just
what did they find on that flying saucer?

Aliens are real?!

LORE

That flying saucer didn’t come to Earth empty, but it was when the government got their hands on it. What they did find was technology far beyond what our planet was capable of producing or understanding. They decided to lock it away in the hopes that whatever alien had been onboard would come back for it. They wanted to catch it, to experiment on it in the name of science. But the alien knew better. What came out of the spaceship that night was an elusive creature on the run, and the last thing it wanted was another manhunt. For nearly forty years, this creature has been living in hiding and for the most part, people have forgotten about it. Strange things are happening again, though, and it’s starting to draw unwanted attention. As government officials flock to Merrel, New Mexico, it’s up to two unlikely friends to uncover the mysteries of the freak occurrences and find out just what Earth’s secret visitor wants.

MORE

This intergalactic creature is more than just elusive. In its natural state, it has no
face, but as a defense mechanism, it can shape-shift to blend into its surroundings. It’s
so fast that most people can’t catch a glimpse of it, but those who are paying attention,
or in the wrong place at the wrong time, do. It’s the latter of these that happens to
Tara, which causes her and Rocco’s worlds to collide.
- heavily influenced by stranger things and every other monster/alien movie that takes
place in the 1980s
- don't post here unless you're me or lisbeth

© pasta

 

[lvcid]

12:01PM

Tara Coleman
Good Girl +
skeptic

how are you feeling?

discontent

where are you?!?

just got to school

could you give me a shoutout??

beth (npc) and rocco lisbeth

what are you wearing? teehee :3

pink sweater, light-washed mom jeans, and white sneakers

The shrill sound of Tara’s alarm clock jolted her out of her light sleep. She squinted in the early morning sun, blindly smacking around on her bedside table until her palm at last made contact with the ‘snooze’ button. The ringing had stopped, but she swore it still echoed in her ears. With a groan, Tara sat up, dragging her hands down her face and shoving her tangled curls behind her ears. It was too early. She didn’t want to be awake.

Tara’s bare feet hit the cold floor, causing her to wince. The hot shower she stood in moments later was refreshing, though, and within minutes, she felt ready to face the day, or rather, as ready as she’d ever be. When she got out, cold and dripping, her reflection was waiting for her in the mirror. She looked exhausted—more so than usual. She had dark bags under her eyes, and her fair skin was strangely pale. She wasn't sleeping well. The pills had that side effect. At this point, she was convinced that she only had two options: be depressed and sleep or be slightly less depressed and never sleep another night in her life. She hated feeling like she didn't have a choice—that was, after all, what had played a large role in the incident. She had to live up to the expectations that people had for her. They'd built her a pedestal, and she had to stand on her mark. She was so scared of falling short that when she was lying awake at night, it was that fear that kept her company.

She popped the medicine into her mouth, swallowed, and gazed back into the mirror. She still felt the same. She wanted immediate results, to be the happy girl she once was, but sometimes she wondered if the pills were even trying to do their job.

Before her shower, Tara had laid out her clothes for the day on her bed. They were still there waiting for her when she walked back into her room. If she looked at them too long, they started to feel boring. Boring was good. Change was bad. If Tara started wearing black, people would begin to whisper, so pink it was. Pink and white were safe colors. Black and grey would turn heads, and turning heads was the last thing she wanted to do. Despite being on the cheerleading team, she didn't necessarily like drawing attention to herself. She wanted to be seen for who she really was, she just wasn't sure the world was ready yet.

When Tara entered the kitchen that morning, smoothing down the front of her soft, pink sweater, her mom was there waiting for her. Tara forced a smile just like she’d hidden the circles under her eyes with heavy makeup. She had perfected the art of pretending to be okay for the sake of avoiding prying questions.

“Did you sleep good?”

“Yeah,” lied Tara, grabbing a waffle off the top of the stack her mother had set out on a plate by the oven.

“Did you take your medicine?”

Tara’s eyes darted up to meet her mom’s. “Yes, Mother. You don’t have to lower your voice. The other PTA moms can’t hear you.” She hadn’t meant to snap. Ever since the incident and the diagnosis, her mom had become overly protective, but at the same time, Tara could tell that she was ashamed. The Colemans had their lives together. They were a perfect family. The neighbors couldn’t know that sweet, little Tara was sad. “I’m sorry,” mumbled Tara, glancing to the ground.

Her mother’s eyebrows knitted together. “No, I’m sorry. They told me you might get moody. I just—I’m scared. I want to know that you’re going to be okay. I can't lose you.”

Tara finished off her waffle. “I’m fine.” She had the feeling that her mom was more scared of her friends finding out about their secret than she was about the shape Tara was in, but she kept that to herself. She didn’t need to pick a fight before school.

As Tara’s mother moved in for a hug, a car horn sounded outside, signaling that her ride had arrived. She easily shrugged away from her mother’s grasp. “I gotta go,” she said, scooping up her bag and heading out the front door.

Beth was waiting for Tara in her red convertible. She, like everyone else at school, had no idea about what Tara had suffered through. On the drive to the high school, the two of them talked about nonsensical things—boys, manicures, clothes—and all the while Tara did her best to seem engaged in the conversation. She tried to focus on the chatter at hand and not get distracted by the dark thoughts that lurked in the back of her mind. By now, she was getting shamefully good at it.

Tara was relieved when the sound of a car engine roaring through the school parking lot interrupted their conversation. Pretending to be interested in something could be so draining. The two girls leaned forward, peering through the windshield of Beth’s car in time to see Chris Wells pull into his parking spot. Beth’s eyebrows shot up. She had a thing for bad boys. Tara rolled her eyes. She didn’t have time for any kind of boys. Besides, people like Tara weren't supposed to talk to people like Chris. Beth could get away with it because, even though she was a cheerleader, she was a little rough around the edges and had a history of doing somewhat scandalous things. Tara, on the other hand, was too innocent. She didn't smoke or drink. She was still a virgin. She was too naïve to be spending her time with the school's resident bad boy. It's not that she wasn't intrigued. If anything, she was scared.

As soon as the girls got inside the school building—the more witnesses there were to see just how happy she was, the better—Tara fell back into her same old habits of hiding behind a smile that was much too big, and for extra measure, she added a little pep in her step to make sure she really sold the show. She felt like a broken record, but routine was good, at least, that's what the doctors had told her. Routine was good. Avoid excitement because excitement leads to stress, and stress leads to bad things.

coded by weldherwings.