#hawklines

“If I could kill someone with my mind, I would master that power and use it for the greater good,” Ally manages as she flops herself down on Dottie's bed and growls up at the ceiling. She's being dramatic, but she feels like for once, she is actually justified for this, and she throws her arms over her eyes with a huff. “There is not a man in this world I want to murder more than Steve Harrington. His pretty brown eyes should be gouged out.” Yeah, so she's mad at Steve.

It's obvious of course the way she's saying all of this, but if anyone understands the audacity of men, it's Dottie. Worse than all this though, is that Ally feels stupid, and that's a feeling that she really doesn't like to feel when men are involved in the equation. She likes to think of herself as a fairly intelligent person, so the fact that she had let Steve even get her this emotional, kind of pisses her off.

@hawklines sent » "do you trust me enough to close your eyes?"

She was among the very few that he almost unquestioningly trusted; he wasn't about to admit that out loud, but it was true all the same. Really, she could get him to do almost anything if she turned it into a display of faith. Something that was way too easily weaponized, and she was using it to have him close his eyes?

“We're doing trust exercises now? Is this a cheerleader thing?” The sarcasm rolled off his tongue with practiced ease, but he didn't wait for her to respond to it. With an exaggerated sigh, like he was preparing himself for this to go off the rails somehow, he gave her a final look before closing his eyes. “I'm assuming there is no peaking allowed?”

▪ ♪ ♩ ♫ ♬ @hawklines sent: "Remind me why I agreed to this?"

Quite honestly, even he wasn't sure what would have possessed a cute cheerleader, mayor's daughter, and all-around mentally put-together Dottie Kline to join him on this wild investigation either. Suppose there were one or two general hunches. “Morbid curiosity,” he starts while hopping out of his van, checking to make sure his flashlight is working. “Compassion for the possible plights of those living under your father's mayorship being struck with danger?” Then he smiles. “Because I might be full of shit, but at least I'm cute?”

Twirling the flashlight with a skillful flourish, he hands it off to her. “Go on, I have a spare. Remember, we don't want that on until we're deep enough in the fields that we won't be noticed by anyone; we don't want anyone chasing us off before I know what's going on.” Closing up the van door, he left it unlocked in case they needed to make a quick getaway. Having to unlock a car while attempting to flee? Rookie horror film mistake.

Nudging his head in the direction he wanted them to go, he started walking. Hawkin's police and the government had been out in this field. About time he learns what's so intriguing. “C'mon, you follow through, and I'll owe you lunch or something.”

his  series  of  flirting  misfires  dutifully  documented  by  his  co-worker  at  SCOOPS  AHOY!  was  beginning  to  wear  on  his  confidence.  or  maybe,  it  was  the  stupid  sailor's  hat  they  were  forced  to  fashion  as  part  of  their  completed  uniforms.  either  way,  it  was  an  END  OF  AN  ERA  FOR  STEVE.  he  needed  to  get  creative  if  he  was  going  to  survive  this  new  chapter  in  his  (  love  )  life.  there  he  stood,  next  door  to  his  place  of  work  on  his  off-day  looking  at  the  G ᐧ A ᐧ P's  latest  trends  in  apparel.  more  specifically,  he  was  eyeing  a  rack  of  jackets.  the  plan  was  that  he  would  purchase  one  of  these  eye-catching  coats  and  store  it  in  the  lost  &  found.  when  he  started  to  bomb  with  a  cute  customer  (  as  he  inevitably  would,  apparently  ),  he  begin  a  song  and  dance  that  went  something  like:  have  you  lost  your  jacket?  this  would  look  great  on  you.  it  really  brings  out  your  eyes… 

the  only  thing  was,  the  longer  he  gazed  at  the  row  of  different  colored  and  styled  jackets  that  he  was  prepared  to  blow  his  paycheck  on,  the  more  DOUBT  combated  his  matchmaking  genius.  first,  he  argued  with  himself  that  he  shouldn't  be  looking  at  coats  because  it  was  summer.  then  he  wondered  if  it  gave  the  right  signal  that  he  was  trying  to  suggest  fashion  tips  to  a  potential  date.  it  might  come  off  as  controlling.  not  to  mention  the  lost  &  found  when  you  haven't  actually  misplaced  a  beloved  item  was  a  little  icky.  a  cardboard  box  of  lost  dreams?  very  appealing. 

steve  was  coming  his  hand  through  his  hair  in  mounting  frustration  when  @hawklines  voice  broke  through  his  dilemma. 

“  who  is  it  for?  ”

oh,  god!  steve  jerked  his  hands  up  to  start  filing  through  the  jackets  in  a  moment  of  panic  like  he'd  been  caught  sleeping  in  glass  just  as  the  teacher  crept  up  behind  his  desk  to  check  his  work.  what  the  hell  could  he  say?  he  was  shopping  for  bait  in  the  hopes  of  getting  a  date  over  the  summer?!  oh,  god…  he  was  pathetic.  hands  falling  away  from  the  clothing,  he  placed  his  palms  on  his  hips  and  searched  his  brain  for  any  sentence  in  english  to  answer  her  question. 

❝  it's  summer.  ❞  technically  a  complete  sentence,  and  it  was  english.  context  was…  questionable.  he  blinked  slowly.  ❝  i'm  in  the  wrong  section,  ❞  he  rushed  to  cover.  ❝  i  should  look  for  something…  cooler.  ❞  hopeless,  hopeless,  HOPELESS.  ❝  my  neighbor…  who  is  a  lady.  her  birthday  is  soon.  she  used  to  babysit  me  when  my  parents  were,  you  know,  at  the  country  club.  anyway,  i  just  thought  it  might  be  nice  to  surprise  her.  with  something  nice.  ❞  stop  talking.  fighting  to  appear  casual,  steve  moved  to  lean  against  the  jackets.  which  weren't  solid  for  leaning.  at  the  last  second,  he  ran  his  hands  over  the  row  as  if  admiring  them.  ❝  nice  material.  good  quality.  ❞  he  folded  his  arms.  that  was  SAFE,  right?

Max is just about ready to second guess. She draws the skateboard closer to her body. Wraps her free arm over her chest, fingers digging into her forearm. Maybe she shouldn't do this. Shouldn't ask. But Susan's drinking again, and it's bad this time. Bad as in Max can't do that thing where she circles around it. Pretends it doesn't exist. She hears the guidance counselor in her head. A voice that echoes. Pities her. Wants to save her. Don't save me don't pity me just let me miss my brother let me want him back. Do you even remember him or what he did? I watched him die I let him die. There's things I need to tell him because he needs to hear it, only him, and I need to say it and I feel sick, sick, sick. Max pushes everyone away. Hates the way they try to save her. She wants to scream. Throw things back in their faces. Where were they when Billy needed help?

Where was she?

"I can just leave. I-" Max tries shrugging it off with a pronounced frown. Like it doesn't matter. But Dottie's bringing her inside, and the house is so big. It's a world Max doesn't understand. But she remembers Dottie from The Gap. Remembers Dottie hanging out with Billy. They were friends. Like, real friends. And if they were friends, then maybe...

Max stops herself. Because the maybes hurt, and she's being too goddamn naïve about it. There is no version of this where she gets her brother back. But she keeps falling for it. Again and again. Keeps convincing herself that maybe he'll be back any second. And maybe that's why she's with Dottie. Because maybe Billy will come back here.

Snap out of it.

"Did you eat yet?" Her question comes out fast. Sudden. Partly because Max is trying to make up for the fact that she's only half-listening. Because she's in her head. Part of her is dead; the other part living. And she's not here half the time. But the other part is that if Dottie eats, then it wouldn't be so bad if she did, too. Both hands caught in the cookie jar type deal. "We could share." All that's waiting at the trailer is whatever shit she can warm up. Frozen dinners. No fancy shit from Enzo's.

@hawklines » liked   my   starter   call   to   get   a   thing   from   mars!

“While I appreciate your keen artistic insights into my extraterrestrial creative endeavors, you can kiss my ass. We scoff at constructive criticism here.” As he talked a big game, he was already erasing parts of his linework that had taken him hours of agonizing over to create. Mars might scoff at criticisms, but that didn't mean he ignored them. “Got me erasing a lot of hard work here, I hope you have some ideas on how to fix these apparent problems.”

Sooooo Eric loves rain. Most hate when it rains because they don't want to go outside with the possibility of getting drenched or having the hassle of taking an umbrella with them or, heavens forbid, the brisk sprint to the car. None of this has any effect on him. When it rains, he loves to watch it coming down.

He loves petrichor, that scent that comes after it's rained on dry soil, as well as the smell that comes when the rain is on the horizon. In fact, there is a large chance that he'll be out in the rain. His father used to hate when it was going to rain because the distinct chance of his son going out in the rain shoeless and getting sick was high. To Mars, thunder is just a sign that good rain is on the way.

And he will happily stand in it. Shoot ball in it. Have his door open to watch it. Dance in it with girls like in the romance movies, or push them in it as a joke when they were trying too hard not to get wet.

“I just want to be at home watching either Sgt. Pepper's or The Shining.” She knows those are two vastly different things, but she also doesn't know the exact movie mood that she is in right now.

What she does know, is her social battery hit its peak and while she still wants to hang out with people, she's growing tired of the amount of people that keep asking her questions tonight. Her mother, being the ex-model she is just wants Ally to network, but the teenager is exhausted and moody and tired of fundraisers. So why did she seek out Dottie? She kind of felt like she might understand.