scott clarke @mi-sterclarke - Tumblr Blog

scott clarke

"As I tell my students, once you open up that curiosity door, anything is possible."

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Finally having a moments peace between schooldays and grading work, Scott decided to head to Melvald's General for some supplies to create an at-home science experiment. After all, it wasn't just his job, but also his hobby. Staring down at the screws in his hands, he didn't see the person in front of him, effectively slamming into them.

"Oh—my apologies! I didn't see you there."

// @sterpstarters

#sterpstarter

wesvale-ste

Deputy Vale has been “patrolling” the Memorial Day parade for approximately twenty minutes, which mostly means walking alongside the floats and politely reminding children not to dart into the street. He’s got his sunglasses on, his uniform shirt rolled at the sleeves, and the world’s most determined “I am taking this very seriously” expression. A marching band blasts past him, slightly off‑tempo. Wes nods like he’s assessing a tactical situation. He pauses near the corner where the crowd thickens, scanning for anything suspicious, which, in Hawkins, could be anything from a loose dog to a rogue balloon.

Instead, he spots you weaving through the spectators, holding a snow cone that’s melting faster than physics should allow. Wes brightens immediately, lifting a hand in greeting. “Hey,” he calls over the music, stepping closer. “If anyone asks, I’m absolutely doing official police work right now.” He gestures vaguely at the parade. “Crowd control. Public safety. Preventing balloon‑related incidents.” A kid runs past him waving a tiny flag, nearly clipping his knee. Wes doesn’t even flinch just sighs like this is his heroic burden.

He nods toward your snow cone. “That looks dangerously good. Pretty sure I’m not supposed to eat on duty, but, uh… if you happened to ‘accidentally’ hand me one, I don’t think anyone would arrest you.” He leans in slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Also, if you stay near me, people assume you’re helping. Which means fewer dads trying to talk to me about grill brands.” He steps aside, making room beside him on the curb. “Walk with me. I promise the parade’s more fun from the ‘official law enforcement’ angle.” // @sterpstarters @sterpcommunity

mi-sterclarke

It was the Memorial Day celebrations in Hawkins, and Scott Clarke was just trying to have a good time. After wandering around for a while and surveying the area, he'd decided a snow cone was his best bet. But it backfired almost immediately, the sugary treat melting all over his hands, faster than he could eat it. Scott was in trouble, he decided, so finding a table with napkins was his next best bet. Of course, he didn't expect to be interrupted by Wes Vale.

"Oh, yes, of course," Scott nodded with an amused smile, "very important police work being done here. We are all so grateful for your efforts, sir."

He glanced down at the melting snow cone and back at the officer. "If you take this off my hands, you'll be a life-saver. For real." He looked around at the crowd, at the parents that had already cornered him earlier in the parade to ask about anything and everything. "I think that 'law enforcement angle' may be calling my name. Let's do it."

#ft.wes

jhopper-ste

Hopper stopped mid-step on the sidewalk, coffee in one hand, cigarette burning low in the other. Something seemed amiss—too silent, too motionless—and his gaze followed a figure lingering at the mouth of an alley. He stopped, exhaled smoke through his nose, and shifted his weight like he had all the time in the world. "You’re doing a real lousy job of blending in,” he muttered. “So how about you step out and tell me what you want—or keep hiding and give me a reason to make this a problem for both of us.” @sterpstarters

mi-sterclarke

Scott Clarke had seen something in the alley, a flash of movement, and gone to investigate it. After all, it might've been a cat, and he'd always had a soft spot for the animal. Just as he was about to go further in, he heard the familiar voice of the former chief.

"My apologies, Jim," he said, stepping out from the shadows with his hands in the air, showcasing his innocence. "I wasn't trying to disturb the peace."

#ft.jim

dustinoutofrange

open starter @sterpstarters location: the diner

dustin practically threw himself into the booth, his knees slamming against the underside of the table with a hollow thunk. he ignored the pain, leaning across the laminated surface until he was practically breathing the same air.

“okay, don't look now,” he hissed, his eyes darting frantically toward the diner's exit before locking back. he whipped out his battered notebook and clicked a green plastic pen with aggressive speed. “but the guy in the corner booth just ordered a chocolate milkshake and a side of tater tots, and he hasn't blinked in exactly four minutes. four minutes.”

he tapped the notebook with his pen, his curls bouncing with the sheer velocity of his panic. “that is a statistical impossibility for a standard human organism. scale of one to ten, how ready are you to help me stage a tactical distraction so i can scan his frequency?”

mi-sterclarke

scott clarke was enjoying a meal by himself, a folder filled with papers that needed grading beside him to complete as he ate. a rather good idea, if he said so himself. except that dustin henderson seemed to always intercept him. he sighed and look at the former student with a pointed expression.

"dustin, we've talked about this—"

he listened to dustin talk rapidly, accepting that this would very possibly take up the rest of his free time. "four minutes, you say?" and he knew better than to doubt this particular student. "what... kind of distraction?" he asked finally, carefully looking to the corner booth where a perfectly normal-looking man sat with a straw between his lips. "four minutes is unusual, but it's not entirely impossible. nothing is entirely impossible," he amended.

#ft.dustin

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