#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.

[ 📿 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat superstition or ritual do they cling to ?

[ 💭 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they believe they’re worthy of being loved ?

@hawklines sent this meme.

ㅤwhen have they looked at their reflection and hated what they saw ?

not after fights. not after failures. not even after the worst days hawkins ever handed her. the moments deena hates her reflection most are the moments she catches someone else in it.

her father.

the tilt of her jaw when she's angry. the sharpness of her voice when she's hurt. the stubborn refusal to let things go. grief is a funny thing. people always warn you about forgetting. nobody warns you about remembering too much. sometimes she looks in the mirror & sees the man who taught her survival before teaching her fear. those are the days she struggles to hold her own gaze.

because she loved him. because he hurt her. because both things can be true. because sometimes the hardest inheritance isn't money or property. it's resemblance.

what superstition or ritual do they cling to ?

deena knocks on wood. every time. it doesn't matter if she's joking. it doesn't matter if she doesn't believe in it. she does it anyway. because she grew up in a town where missing children returned different. where monsters existed. where the impossible kept showing up on her doorstep demanding to be believed. eventually superstition stops feeling silly. it starts feeling respectful. but the ritual she clings to most happens when she's alone.

there is a cassette tape. old. repaired. precious. her mother's voice lives inside it. on difficult nights, deena listens to it before she sleeps. she tells herself it's nostalgia. comfort. habit. the truth is far uglier. some part of her still believes that as long as she can hear her mother's voice, she hasn't completely lost her.

do they believe they're worthy of being loved ?

ask deena on a good day & she'll tell you yes. ask her on a bad one & she'll laugh.

there are entire graveyards tucked beneath her skin. barb holland. the mother who left. the father she couldn't decide whether to mourn or resent. every person she failed. every person she couldn't save. love requires vulnerability. vulnerability requires trust. & trust has always been a language deena speaks with an accent.

the cruel part is that she finds it very easy to love other people. she can list a hundred reasons why they deserve patience, forgiveness, understanding. when it comes to herself, the list gets much shorter. so the answer is complicated. deena believes she is capable of being loved.