#hawkinsdevoured

@hawkinsdevoured ⁕ plotted »

☈ . the halls of the university always sounded different after rehearsal hours. during the daytime it was chaos –- scales drifting down the hallway, piano notes carrying through open doors, the atmosphere alive with the rise and fall of voices. however, once nighttime came about, it became softer. stray notes lingering in the air like ghosts. 𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗱𝗮𝘆. the mop bucket rattles faintly as he pushes it down the corridor, a hum that is probably the only off-key tune that's carried in the building all day. nonetheless, he's committed to it. he pauses at a rehearsal room with a chair propping the door open. someone was still here. baron leans the mop against the wall and sticks his head in, fist knocking lightly against the door. "'m pretty sure the buildin' closes 'ventually, you know," he calls, his voice carried with warmth and ease as he recognizes the student in the room. ♫

ally davis. he'd started recognizing people by sound before sight in a place like julliard, and hers was easy. she knew exactly where a note was supposed to land, even if she'd missed it. he steps in a little further, sliding his hands into the pockets of his coveralls as he redirects his attention to the piano. "you've been on that same line fer..." he squints at the clock on the wall. "forty-two minutes." he shrugs casually. "or somewhere 'round there. i ain't great with time." baron wonders over to pick up a stray program that had been left on a chair, smoothing out the wrinkled paper between his hands before moving to toss it into the bin attached to his cart. "you know you're better than most. by now someone's surely thrown sheet music 'round the room." he nudges the door open a little wider with his foot.

he offers her a goofy, lopsided grin with his proposal-– "need a second pair 'f ears? can't promise'll know what i'm hearin'... but i'm surely good at pretendin' i do." he speaks slowly, 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗻𝗳𝗹𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻. "plus, if security comes through, i can always tell'em you're helpin' me with... uh..." he gestures behind him toward the mop. "... floor acoustics."

➠ @hawkinsdevoured posed the press junket question : “You can stop pretending you're fine. Nobody believes it after their third drink.”

✘ ♕ ✘ A heavily annoyed look snapped to Ally as Ilya looked her way. He was hunched over, leaning against the high top table as the loud music of the bar crashed around his ear drums. It wasn't as though he'd started the night searching to be in a lousy mood, but as the vodka entered his bloodstream and melted away the distractions in his mind, he was left with the grating family issues that plagued him constantly.

〔 •ﻌ• 〕 ･ﾟ * º • 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 » “I only gamble with my life, never my money.” @hawkinsdevoured !!

ฅ ฅ ... “ Riiiiight, did you really say that with your entire chest? Life over money is the vibe you want? I mean, sure, why not? ” Garfield wasn't judging, hard to do that given what he did with his time. “ Who am I to talk, really? I gamble my life all the time ... in heroic pursuits, but it counts. ”

The fight was over, Vecna was gone. The upside down was gone. It was over and yet… they had paid the ultimate price hadn’t they? “It’s bullshit.” Steve had been silent until now, waiting for the military to finally release them. “She.. That shouldn’t have happened I-” His fist lashed out, connecting with the nearest surface- which just so happened to be a concrete road block. “El is gone and I couldn’t do a goddamn thing.”

@hawkinsdevoured sent » "do you want to grow old with me?"

That question threw him for something of a loop. He could feel the pending drop in his stomach, so similar to the sensation he'd experienced last time he'd aired out his feelings with her. Somehow, that memory felt both so old yet insanely fresh, with everything that had happened between then and now.

“Us jocks don't think that far ahead very often,” he claims, echoing something he'd heard about how popular kids could get stuck in high school their entire lives. Stuck in the good times. Peaked young.

It's doubtful that foster kids were known for thinking ahead either. Made him two for two on living for the moment.

Avoiding Jason was becoming a more common occurrence. Did she even like cheerleading? Did she do it because of her mom? She needed to get out of her bubble. She looked into the store front window in town. She looked inside, the bell dinged, peering around the corner for anyone. "Hello?" Chrissy questioned.

"It's six thirty in the morning, I don't get up at six thirty unless someone's dying." Steve grumbled, arms folded over his chest. "Someone better be dying Ally."