#hawklines

@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.”

“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.

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.

the  first  sleepover.  seven  years  old  was  old  enough  to  go  stay  at  a  friend's  house  unaccompanied,  that  was  the  mantra  steve  kept  feeding  himself  the  whole  morning  he  helped  @hawklines  get  their  child  ready  for  the  big  event.  he  was  busying  himself  enough  with  a  to-do  list  to  check  off,  the  tasks  gave  him  no  time  to  nervously  sweat  or  find  a  bathroom  to  cry  in.  with  laser  focus,  he  powered  through  each  box  only  raising  his  voice  in  panic  two  or  three  times.  their  little  one  called  him  on  his  tone  every  time.  daddy's  not  yelling  because  he's  mad.  i  just  wanna  make  sure  you  and  mommy  can  hear  me.  wobbly  smile. 

"do  you  mind  helping  me  with  the  back  zipper  …?"

steve  stopped  tickling  the  kid  long  enough  to  shift  at  dottie's  request.  the  overnight  bag  was  a  clearance  item  and  had  seen  better  days.  a  piece  of  the  fabric  had  caught  in  the  teeth  of  the  zipper.  steve  promptly  wrestled  it  free  then  zipped  up  the  compartment  with  a  sound  ZIP.  throwing  his  arms  up  briefly  in  a  show  of  triumph,  he  smiled  more  confidently  at  dottie  and  planted  a  quick  kiss  to  her  lips.  ❝  there!  i  think  that's  everything.  mrs.  connelly  will  be  here  any—  ❞  a  car  horn  HONKED  outside.  steve  screamed  excitedly  along  with  their  little  tator  tot  and  picked  them  up,  upside  down,  to  carry  them  out  of  the  door.  bag  over  his  shoulder.  they  bid  their  goodbyes  and  phone  numbers  were  confirmed  in  case  of  emergency.  as  soon  as  the  whirlwind  was  started,  it  was  over.  steve  stood  on  the  porch  with  dottie,  his  arm  slung  around  her  shoulder  as  he  tried  not  to  give  into  his  impulse  to  jump  in  his  car  and  follow  after  them. 

suddenly,

steve  was  tossing  dottie  over  his  shoulder  like  a  caveman.  stepping  over  the  mess  they'd  made  getting  everything  together  this  morning  and  the  regular  mess  they  perpetually  lived  in,  steve  hauled  her  over  the  countertop  of  their  kitchen.  hands  ran  up  her  thighs  and  settled  at  her  hips  with  a  firm  grip  as  he  smiled  back  at  her,  eyes  pooling  with  mischief  and  no  small  amount  of  charm.  ❝  alone  at  last,  mrs.  harrington.  what's  it  been?  ten,  twelve  years  since  we  had  a  minute?  god,  you're  gorgeous!  we're  dreaming,  right?  this  is  a  dream.  better  enjoy  it  before  we  wake  up!  ❞  his  mouth  was  on  her  neck.  soft,  teasing  bites  peppered  her  pulse  point  as  his  palms  climbed  up  and  down  her  sides.  steve  soothed  his  nibbling  with  suckling  kisses.  between  bites  and  kisses,  he  started  to  wonder  out  loud.  ❝  is  this  your  dream  or  my  dream?  am  i  gonna  disappear  if  you  wake  up?  ❞  he  gripped  her  tighter,  arms  circled  around  her  back.  ❝  will  you?!  ❞