𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝗮 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁 𝗿𝗼𝗰𝗸𝗲𝘁 @the-sure-shot - Tumblr Blog

[ … ] 𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙚, 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧, 𝙣𝙤 𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩.

MISSED EVENT ONE? LOOKING TO JOIN A SILLY GOOFY COLLABORATIVE STRANGER THINGS GROUP? WELL LOOK NO FURTHER!

for the next week or so, we'll be posting quotes by our muns in character during the first event as promo on main! we'd love to have all our blog and tag lurkers to join us before our second event! favorite character taken? no worries! we're looking to drop our second round of skeletons, so go ahead and message the main with who you'd like to see in that batch (:<

#lucas #//i love when the main makes my musing posts for me #<333

Even though he didn't do anything, Lucas' very presence in the oddly sterile, distinctly unforgiving Hawkins P.D. interrogation room was going to be a major problem to both of his parents. Mom liked to act like Lucas had these, like... psychic abilities-- like he should know when something crazy is about to go down, and he should leave before it gets there. And Dad... Dad was sure to hold him hostage for at least two hours with some long-winded grandstanding about how he'd fought for their country alongside many 'peace officers' and he must've done something deserving of eternal damnation for his own son to be sitting across from one in handcuffs. Nevermind the fact that Lucas was very much handcuff-less. It was fear of his parents more than respect for authority that kept Lucas rooted to his seat, answering their questions with as much respect and goodwill as he could possibly muster.

#lih.task #task 001 #who's miranda and what are her rights?

thetapehead

Jonathan huffed something like a laugh, almost on the edge of uncomfortable as he took the cobalt blue lighter from Lucas. Honestly, it felt a bit like an illicit object. He eyed it in his palm before flicking it once, and again. “This is … your lighter?” He wasn’t accusatory at all, just vaguely baffled. Unless the clan of basement heroes were running around with lighters for a campaign, there was only one logical reason for Lucas carrying around a pyro tool so … casually.

His eyes flicked over to the sweater, snacks, and bug spray that Lucas plopped down on a nearby bench, “How much do they pay for dishwashing these days?” He said with a slight tilt, warm. A small smile tugged at the overall look. “You’re like a lawn chair and cooler away from moving into one of the kiosks.”

Jonathan jutted his chin toward the church behind them when Lucas asked about work. It kinda hurt his brain to play it back in his head. “Yeah, I was working the wedding at the church. Freelance gig.” He scratched the back of his neck with the butt of his cigarette. “Bride cried. Groom did the worm and, uh – I think the flower girl tried to pickpocket me, but it was decent cash.”

The cigarette still dangled from his hand unlit. Not entirely forgotten but the negotiation on whether to light it paused. He leaned back into the tailgate, metal creaking a bit while his thumb brushed idly over the side of Lucas’s lighter. “Have you seen Will or El out there today? They said they might come. I wasn’t sure if they made it out.”

the-sure-shot

"Yeah, it's mine!" Lucas said, though the way his voice lifted immediately called all of his conviction into question. He couldn't help it-- Jonathan had known him since Lucas was a metal-mouthed middle schooler, and it was hard not to feel like Jonathan still saw him that way. "--Well, it's mine now. Steve left it one day, and Max smokes every now and then, so." Lucas didn't think he needed to defend holding a candle for his ex to Jonathan of all people.

With a sigh, Lucas shook his head, clicking his teeth in disapproval. "Man, $3.35, not a cent over minimum wage," he grumbled. "And my fingers get all pruny by the end of the night. Not to mention the shit some people leave on their plates." It was Enzo's, not the goddamn zoo, but most nights Lucas couldn't spot the difference if you paid him. He shook his head emphatically, "No-- no, no, definitely not a kiosk guy. I'm a jock now, Jonathan, I'm like... cool. Almost."

He hummed at Jonathan's description of the wedding, nodding. Lucas had only been to a handful of weddings-- his uncle's, a couple of cousins on his mom's side. Mostly, they were long and boring and his mom always got so annoying about wearing a tailored suit. "Do brides, like... always cry?" In his experience, they had. It was funny-- Lucas couldn't imagine Max crying in front of anyone, much less on a wedding day in front of their friends. He didn't get what it was that made people so emotional. The dry chicken?

Lucas nodded, glancing around them as if his friends would appear as their names were spoken. "Yeah, Will and Mike were working the donations booth earlier and El... I think she was supposed to scope out a spot to watch fireworks with Max," he shrugged. Basically anytime El and Max got together, it was in Lucas' best interest to just let them do their 'girl stuff'-- and he was quite fond of his limbs, at least today, so he didn't ask any questions. "Are you joining the party, or...?" Lucas trailed off, glancing from Jonathan to the main street, still milling with people even after sunset.

#w/ jonathan #//jonathan i am SORRY you're catching strays

runawayymax

To say Max was skeptical was an understatement. It read clearly on her face, "I don't know if i trust your definition of cool." Again she asked him, "What shoe is it? C'mon, I won't laugh." Max might. She was partial to vans for herself, but she'd had the same pair since freshman year, because as Lucas was demonstrating cool shoes were expensive. But vans, no matter how beat up, were better than some generic, canvas, shoe. "As long as they're not like, Nike Cortez's, everyone has those." Lucas had conformed enough, hadn't he? Last thing Max wanted was to see him in a shoe every other boy owned. "I heard the Court Forces are cool. Good for fashion and basketball." She teased. From her spot on her board, she did try to shove Lucas, but he ducked out of reach. Their playful bickering was short lived with Lucas' 'What? The Cheerleaders?' God, he was the densest boy alive. "Being popular. A Hawkins Tiger Golden Boy." It seemed insufferable from the outside perspective, and rather than asking 'Do you like it?' Max had settled on 'How can you stand it?!' Max wasn't sure she was going to like whatever answer Lucas had to offer. He'd changed and so had she. Missing the metamorphosis was her own doing, could she really be mad at his answer? She probably still would be. She pushed off the ground twice, zooming in front of Lucas, but still looking back at him every once and a while to make conversation, "Mike's?" Her first thought was Is El going? But she wasn't going to straight up ask that. "I mean, probably. Will is holding some school supplies for me, so i have to get those at some point." She couldn't show a whole lot of enthusiasm for hanging at Mike's but at least they'd all be together. She'd spent so many years saying sure to Lucas' invites while knowing she wouldn't show up, the least she could give him in this instance was honesty. "You're so cheesy." Max shook her head in disapproval, though a smile silently crept up her cheeks, "I think this year is going to be exactly the same."

the-sure-shot

Lucas dropped his jaw, a shocked guffaw falling off of his lips. The thing is, he should be able to predict Max's barbs by now-- he should be able to sense when he was about to waltz right into one-- but it was way less fun that way. If Max poking fun at him was Max paying attention to him, well... Lucas would endure a lot worse abuse than this. "What are you talking about? I'm totally tubular," he grinned, all too pleased with himself. Lucas sighed, hands shoved in his pockets as he bashfully replied, "Worthy 790s. They're not-- I wouldn't wear Nike Cortez's." Even if he didn't know why the thought was so offensive to Max, Lucas was eager to prove that he wouldn't do that.

His eyebrows shot up again, this time with an amused laugh. "A golden boy... right," Lucas' tone was far from convinced. "I think you and I both know I'm not the Jason Carver type." He shrugged again, feeling both like it was simple and incredibly layered. "You can't be a golden boy and be in Hellfire. You can just be... a nerd who likes to play basketball," Lucas said, gesturing to himself. There were about a dozen other reasons why Lucas would never be a Jason, or even a Steve, but he figured Max didn't need him to spell them all out. She'd probably try to hit him again.

More than anything, Lucas wanted to prove to Max that he hadn't changed. He was still the same old Lucas, and maybe... Maybe they could be Lucas-and-Max again. The plea died on his tongue in favor of ensuring he'd see Max at Mike's tonight.

"Yeah, Wheeler? Skinny, sarcastic, kinda pouty?" he teased, eyes flitting anywhere but Max's face. He didn't want to put pressure on, and she always got after him for 'looking at her like that.' Lucas didn't know what 'like that' was, but he was pretty sure he was doing it now. "Oh, yeah. Cool!" Lucas cleared his throat, dispensing his next words carefully. "We were gonna do a whole movie night thing... El and everybody, I mean... and I mean, I got extra Raisinets. Just in case."

"Nah, no it won't," Lucas was quick to protest, earnest in the way he looked at Max. "It'll be better. You'll see. I'll make sure of it."

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃.

#w/ max

dietmike

if mike couldn't be found upstairs (and he usually couldn't), then it was a pretty safe bet that he was down in the basement. he was in there more than his own bedroom, where he really only went to go to sleep. why wouldn't he spend all of his time there, considering his room didn't have television in it and the basement did? there was also a fridge, table, bathroom, sofa, literally everything a teenage boy could dream of that kept him from venturing away from it. that was why he didn't bother immediately answering when lucas called out for him. he figured that it was likely a given that he'd be in there, and he made a face at being pushed out of his rather comfortable position. his eyebrows quirked up at the request to help him tear old notes out of a notebook, and he waited (im)patiently for the explanation. "oh, i know the shoes, man. you haven't stopped bringing them up since you saw them," he said, although there was a hint of fondness in his voice. if he was irritated, lucas would have known it by now. he personally didn't care about his shoes that much, though he was partially loyal to converse, but he wasn't about to stomp on lucas' sneaker needs. maybe they were important for basketball, or something? speaking of which. he watched as the paper ball made it into the metaphorical basket, looking over at lucas and shaking his head. "you think you're sooo cool. well, i'll have you know, anyone can do that," he said, taking a notebook of his own and ripping out a used up piece of paper. he folded it into a little ball and then tossed it toward the trashcan. it bounced off of the edge and onto the floor, but he grinned when he looked back to lucas. "what's that called, like, a two-pointer? please, i should be on the team. that has to count for something!" he insisted, looking back down at the notebook before he remembered why lucas was really there. "also, why not use the rest of the notebooks up and then throw them away whole, instead of ripping out all the paper? isn't that way more time consuming?"

the-sure-shot

"To be fair, just because I talk about them 'all the time' doesn't mean you listen to me," Lucas pointed out with an unmistakeable lilt of laughter in his voice. Mike was like an anomaly-- he didn't think his best friend had ever done anything halfway. Either Mike heard everything, every last huff and intonation, or he was completely oblivious. As far as Lucas could tell, if he was talking about something that didn't exactly pertain to Mike-- like basketball or shoes-- the odds that he was paying attention were slim. The closest thing to a cheat code he'd figured out was dropping Will's name-- then, suddenly, Mike was all ears.

Lucas rolled his eyes, watching as Mike decidedly did not sink his own paper wad into the trashcan. "Try zero points, Mike," Lucas corrected, making a '0' with his hand and shoving it in Mike's face, just to really drive the point home. "If you wanna join the team, the frist thing you need to know is that to score points--" Lucas got up and crossed the room, picking up the discarded wad and dropping it into the bin-- "You have to send the ball through the basket."

He plopped back into his place on the couch, "The second thing you should know is that proper ankle support is key to not breaking your legs. Which is why I need these shoes specifically." And because Jay bought a pair last summer, and it was the first time Lucas had realized shoes could be for fashion and function.

Lucas picked up a notebook and began tearing, glancing at Mike with a guilty smile and explaining, "'Cause then my mom will know that I used my school supply allowance on shoes and she'll go into the whole 'Lucas, you're prioritizing basketball over school again. Baskebtall won't get you a job! Basketball won't feed your kids!' lecture." The way he saw it was if he could make the notebooks look new enough-- like, bargain bin new-- he could avoid having that conversation with Sue Sinclair. Again.

#w/ mike #//i just knowwww lucas does a mean falsetto impression of sue

thequeenofhawkins

Chrissy looked up just as Lucas approached, her smile already in place. The practiced kind she’d worn all morning as she ushered in freshmen and seniors alike. But when she registered who it was, the edges of that smile tugged upward into something a little more genuine

"Lucas Sinclair," she said, almost surprised. "Look at you. A senior already." She leaned back slightly in her chair, eyeing him with the half-bewildered look of someone trying to remember the memory of a younger kid with the fully-grown version standing right in front of her.

At his mention of her return, Chrissy hesitated for a beat. Not because it was unexpected, it was bound to happen. She had barely been in Hawkins since she graduated, and now she was the newest guidance counselor? It was objectively strange.

"Yeah, I’m here," she said, simply, her hands gesturing around. "Started over the summer, actually." She had to remind herself of what it was like to be around Lucas when she was in school. Jason had specific ways of how Chrissy should have behaved and that often meant not having regard for some teammates who he did not take as seriously, to fill in the blank.

Then she glanced down at the clipboard in front of her and flipped a page when Lucas brought up his mentee. "Harry Hines, let’s see..." Her fingers trailed across the page until she landed on his name. She tapped on the name. "We’ve got him in Group B. Should be up in the library by now. Probably hiding behind a stack of geometry books, if he knows what's good for him."

She scribbled a quick note on a sticky pad and handed it to Lucas with Harry's name, group, and whereabouts on it. Just in case. "I think you’re going to be good at this, Lucas. Really. I think these kids could use someone like you." And did she know who that was truly? No, but in terms of what she could remember, Lucas seemed far gentler than the rest of the basketball team. "You still..." she trailed off, before adding, "playing basketball?"

the-sure-shot

"Yeah, a senior," Lucas echoed, sparing her from the barb on the edge of his tongue. That's how years work. He shifted from foot to foot, eyes flitting from Chrissy's face, to the table, to his feet, and then around the gym. Part of him was silently begging for literally anyone he knew to pass through his field of vision, give him an out.

Basketball had helped a lot with Lucas' confidence. He spent a lot of his childhood faking it and overcorrecting for the fact that he was different-- but something about dribbling a ball down a court and sinking a few three-pointers really had helped Lucas grow into himself, stand up a little straighter. Secretly, he knew it probably had something to do with the popularity that came with being good at something his peers valued-- but he'd be locked inside a Russian prison before he'd ever say that out loud.

Still, in front of Chrissie Cunningham, Lucas wavered. Old, familiar feelings of uncertainty and awkwardness flooded his chest. "That's-- uh, that's cool. Kind of different than what I would've expected, you know," he stammered, even if Lucas was still trying to put together how Jason Carver's girlfriend was somehow his guidance counselor. If you asked Lucas, Jason needed guidance more than the rest of them.

"Group B, library," Lucas repeated with a nod. He wasn't trying to be painfully awkward-- really, he wasn't-- but Hawkins had finally gotten something close to comfortable for him and his friends, what with the monsters and Jason Carvers officially banished. A small part of him bristled at Chrissy's encouragement-- a righteous disdain that was a reminder that yes, Erica's blood was his blood too. He wanted to ask just how Chrissy figured Lucas would be good at this-- what she thought she knew about him, exactly.

Instead, he settled on showing Chrissy her own words. "Someone like me?" he scoffed, shoving both hands in his pockets and nodding to her question. "Yeah. So you mean like... a jock?"

#w/ chrissy #//sorry this was so long ago.....#chrissy v lucas diva off in the gym

harringtoninc

who: steve + @the-sure-shot where: main street block party what: clocked out of work and ready to tear it up

Steve Harrington had never been one to shy away from a party. After all, sitting around at home on a friday night with your nose stuck in a book didn't earn you the title of King, or Big Shot, or a spot on the prom court for pretty much your entire high school career. Granted, Steve was used to different kinds of parties - those taking place in someone's basement, or on the shore of lover's lake, but in the absence of anything else of more relevance going on, the block party would have to do. There's something to be said about this being a back to school party, thrown in honour of his former basketball team, but that's for tomorrow's Steve to ruminate on, mull over and inevitably feel awfully inadequate and lacking about. With another week to spare until his classes start up again at college the festivities commencing the new school year were almost impossible to avoid. He could lock himself in, get a head-start on some coursework and try to avoid thinking about the fact that he had quite possibly peaked in high school. Yet the kids he was coaching could scarcely talk about anything else than the upcoming school year, and whether or not they might make it onto the team, and the extra shifts he'd picked up at Melvald's were spent almost entirely stocking school supplies. In an act of divine humour, it was no wonder he had been asked to fill in for Janet at the booth. The warmer months always seemed to draw people back to Hawkins, and so Steve spent most of his time avoiding eye contact with some of his peers back for the summer from their Ivy Leagues. Jesse Calder had stopped by to say hello - or to humiliate Steve, the latter seemed more likely - with a shiny gold band on his left hand. Brenda Webber had shyly waved at him with a kid balanced on her hip - well, there went his back-up-back-up-back-up-back-up option for a date to take to the Wheeler's BBQ. The hours seemed to stretch into days and months, and Steve had begun fearing he'd be stuck in that booth forever when he was finally tapped out. Under the guise of gathering his stuff Steve slipped a couple beers into his bag and went off to find Lucas. "Hey! Sinclair!" An over-excited wave was turned into a casual hand-sliding-through-hair-gesture in an attempt to appear nonchalant. "What's going on, man? What's happening?"

the-sure-shot

If you asked his grandma, the entire back-to-school block party was thrown in Lucas Sinclair's honor, the "star" of the Hawkins High men's varsity basketball team. He wasn't entirely convinced he was a standout or anything, but he'd promised to call her first thing tomorrow and tell her all about it, so Lucas was at least halfheartedly participating in all the photo ops and the mini pep rally hosted by Principal Coleman.

His parents were less excited about the whole basketball thing. They'd been tentatively supportive when he dedicated his entire summer before freshman year to running drills with Steve, but even that was more because they were so shaken up from the fire that they wanted him to do something "normal." When Lucas actually made the team and it became apparent that basketball was a major time commitment, Charles and Sue were very clear with their expectations.

If at any point Lucas' grades slipped below a B+, he was off the team, point blank period. So he's been fighting tooth and nail, semester after semester, to make sure that never happened. Lucas had maybe gotten less sleep these first three years of high school than ever before between balancing AP classes with Dungeons and Dragons and basketball-- but he'd always been a little hyperactive, prone to getting bored if there weren't a million things going on at once. And besides, it's not like he wanted to spend a single minute of the day alone with his thoughts, because then he'd just be moping around about the fact that Max had dropped him like he was nothing.

And, not for nothing, the keep himself busy M.O. was highly effective, if not unavoidable between the constant needs of Mom, Erica, and The Party. Lucas narrowly escaped a conversation with Mrs. Jenkins who was insistent that he was the only person in Hawkins who knew how to mow her lawn properly, therefore it was his fault that it was overgrown (despite the many, many times Lucas had encouraged her to hire another, preferably less busy, high schooler to mow it.) He'd ducked behind a tent to avoid her gaze, and all was going well until someone all but screamed his name through the crowd.

Lucas turned to Steve with wide eyes, making a 'cut it out' motion at his throat until he was sure her hearing aids hadn't picked up on his yell. "Hey, man," he breathed, clapping Steve's hand with his own and patting his back in the 'totally cool' handshake Steve had taught him just a few years ago. "I'm avoiding... kind of everyone but you," Lucas admitted, letting out a sigh and peering up at his friend, weary. "You actually like stuff like this?" He'd never been a fan of crowds, himself, but maybe King Steve could pass off a tip or two.

#w/ steve #//one: i am deeply sorry for my DELAY #and two: i am deeply sorry for ALL this exposition and a sprinkle of dialgoue #i am just a girl

runawayymax

Saving up for shoes was the most bozo thing ever in Max's opinion. Her eyes steeled at him in disapproval, "What shoes?" It really did make a difference, "Are they like, fashion shoes, or for basketball?" That was also an important factor. Regardless of Lucas' pursuit of footwear, he was still a bozo. She slowed down on her board a little bit, attempting to get a good look at the booths behind Lucas. Unsurprisingly, they all looked boring. The thought of her as a cheerleader was so ridiculous, Max had to laugh, but she still went along with it. She planted both of her feet back on her board and mimicked shaking pom poms with her hands, waving them up then down, "Go Tigers!" She mocked the obnoxious pep of their school's cheerleaders, quick to laugh at her own impression. "I seriously don't know how you tolerate that shit, Lucas." Max shook her head. Translation: I don't understand how you stand being popular. Everyone was really different now, especially Lucas, and that was her own fault for staying away. Maybe she shouldn't give him such a hard time. There were no guidelines for how to act around former best friends that she'd spent years deliberately shutting out. Could she still joke with Lucas like that? Things were normal, almost like they used to be, but was it supposed to be that easy? Max cleared her throat and let her foot graze lightly over the asphalt. "Okay, fine. We can stay for their speeches, but after that, I'm leaving." She left no room for Lucas to negotiate. "I hate this stuff." As if that wasn't already obvious. Max's eyes rolled at Lucas' idea of motivation to enjoy the block party, "Right, because this time next year, instead I'll be thinking about which of my friends are leaving Hawkins. Can't wait."

the-sure-shot

"They're... both, I guess?" Lucas attempted to answer her question. He furrowed his brow, informing her, "They're basketball shoes but, like, cool ones." Lucas suddenly felt embarrassed about his shoes, like he'd just admitted to Max that he cared what he looked like-- which he did, but he didn't want to seem like a try-hard. That was the thing about popularity. As far as Lucas could tell, nobody was naturally cool-- but it was decidedly uncool to seem like you were trying. It was all so... confusing. Thank God his real friends didn't seem to care about any of it.

Lucas laughed at Max's impression, tilting his head back and wondering for a moment if things were settling between them-- if they were inching towards that first August. "That wasn't half bad," he promised. Lucas grinned at her and preemptively ducked out of the way so she couldn't smack him as he laid it on thick, "I'm serious, all you need is the uniform!" He shrugged at her question, meeting her gaze and earnestly asking, "What? The cheerleaders?"

He understood they weren't exactly Max's speed, but Lucas didn't see a problem with them. He honestly didn't pay them much mind at all-- it was best to leave that to the rest of the team. Lucas was more concerned with getting his free-throw percentage up.

"You're going to Mike's after, right?" he asked, tone bordering precariously between hopeful and nonchalant. He'd learned in the last three years of relative radio silence from Max that there was a fine line between what she considered stalking and inviting. The trick was to not apply too much pressure, but still make it clear she was welcome. Lucas was never very good at achieving that balance-- he didn't like how close it was to lying. If he wanted Max there, which he almost always did, he'd say that.

A frown tugged at his smile, but Lucas was nothing if not dedicated to finding some kind of silver lining-- even if it wasn't one he was fully convinced of, himself. "All we can do is enjoy it now, right?" he flashed Max a brave smile, promising her, "This year will be different. Good different." He'd do everything in his power to make sure of it.

#w/ max #// me when i cut an entire paragraph about Jay from Lucas On The Line ... cant shut up disease is real

who: Lucas & @dietmike where: The Wheeler basement what: Serious Party Business

"Mike!" Lucas called as he descended the familiar steps to his favorite hangout. "You down here?" he craned his neck around the stack of notebooks in his arms, flashing a smile when he spotted his friend halfway draped over the couch. Using his leg, Lucas shoved Mike onto one half of the couch, sitting down and claiming the other for himself. "I need your help," he stated, watching Mike expectantly.

When his friend seemed less than interested, Lucas heaved a sigh and tossed a couple notebooks haphazardly at Mike's lap. "Help me rip out these old notes, man, come on." Though, Mike was never very good at blindly following orders. None of their friends were, save maybe Will, and that was more because he was probably weary of understanding their schemes by now.

"I'm saving my school supply money for Worthy 790s," explained, then tacked on, exasperated, "The shoes." He flipped open one of the spiral bound notebooks and started ripping out old chem notes. "You know Erica saves all her notes? Like she's ever gonna look at them again."

He wadded up the paper and paused to shoot it at the trashcan in the corner, holding his follow through like Coach taught. When he sunk it, he turned to Mike with a wide grin, expecting applause, or at minimum, a thumbs up.

#w/ mike #//let me know if i need to change anythingggg #<33

who: Lucas & @thequeenofhawkins where: Freshman Focus Day, of course! what: Jason Carver, You Will Always Be (In)Famous

As much as he wanted to poke fun at the whole mentoring-a-freshman-thing like the rest of his friends, Lucas was... excited. Hopeful, maybe, was a better word. He'd had a great experience his mentor freshman year, even if he had his own theory about why they'd paired him up with Jay. Meeting Jay changed the scope of Lucas' entire high school career, maybe even his life. Lucas lingered by the door for a moment, clipping his keys onto his beltloop and taking it in: the real beginning of senior year, maybe even the real beginning of the rest of his life.

Or something like that.

He fished the letter out of his back pocket with the day's itinerary on it, and at the very bottom in bolded letters read the name of his freshman mentee. Harry Hines. He paused at the registration table to pick up his badge, and did a double-take at the familiar face sitting behind it. "Chrissy?" Lucas asked, quirking his head to the side and reading the name tag fastened to her sweater: Chrissy Cunningham, Guidance Counselor. Her presence made him inexplicably nervous, like if she was here, Jason Carver couldn't be more than a block away. They were inseperable like that Lucas' first year on the team, and Jason... well, there was no love lost between the two former teammates.

"Um... I didn't know you were-- back. Or, here," he stumbled over his words, offering a strained smile. "Cool," he lied through his teeth, nodding and rapping a fist on the table between them. "Maybe you could help me find, um... Harry Hines?"

#w/ chrissy #//let me know if i neeed to change anything bff <333

who: Lucas & @nancydrewheeler where: The Wheeler's Front Porch what: Lucas Is Not a Jehovah's Witness

Mom and Dad had been on this weird kick about manhood ever since Lucas turned eighteen. Suddenly, if he didn't scrape every last pea in the trash before he rinsed off his plate, he was irresponsible and didn't know the first thing about maintaining a home... to which Lucas would say, yeah, he didn't-- if expressing his true thoughts on the matter wouldn't end in complete disaster. Today was no different: Sue Sinclair had a Certified Mom Lesson to dispense, this time on the topic of being a good neighbor.

It was at her behest that Lucas had turned up here, on Karen Wheeler's pristine porch, knocking like he wanted to share the Gospel or something. It was strange to come here for anyone other than Mike, who would expect for Lucas to just let himself in. Unfortunately, it didn't seem his best friend was home at the moment. That, or Mike was too preoccupied with whatever he was doing to open the door.

"Hi, Nancy!" Lucas chirped with as bright a smile as he could muster.

"I just wondered if... you might need a hand getting ready for the barbecue? A grocery run, or loading or unloading... things?" If Nancy could read his mind, she would say no, Lucas! We've got it under control! You should totally go down to the basement and play a few hours of Atari with Mike! But he doubted his telepathic signals were coming through.

#w/ nancy #// lucas sinclair jehovah's witness arc begins

thetapehead

𝐖𝐇𝐎: Jonathan Byers & Open

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄: Main Street Block Party - 8:30pm. Parking lot near St. Francis Parish Hall.

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓: Jonathan is wrapping up a freelance photography gig that so happens to coincide with a huge block party. How fun!

The wedding was still going when Jonathan ducked out. Last he saw, the flower girl was asleep under a folding chair and someone’s uncle was butchering TIME AFTER TIME at the mic. Jonathan wasn’t a guest … just the guy they’d hired to shoot it all. A freelance gig that he’d landed through word of mouth and, honestly, who could turn down a hundred bucks with a dinner plate included? He was in a nearby parking lot now, parked crooked along the back edge. His day had started early with portraits and ended somewhere more unfortunate with the bride crying with makeup halfway melted off. Jonathan sat on the tailgate of his car, tie loosened, camera bag by his feet, with a half-eaten slice of cake sweating through a paper plate beside him. Somewhere not far off in the distance there were fairy lights blinking behind the church hall. A couple of kids running around unsupervised. One of them was wearing a plastic crown while the other kept throwing wedding rice at the moon. The sound from the block party bled in from Main Street. A meeting of worlds. Laughter. Fireworks that weren’t part of anyone’s permit. Jonathan rubbed at his temple. It smeared a bit of sweat into his hairline but his shoulder ached oh so damn bad from holding the camera all day. All the film was already safely tucked away in his trunk – pretty good shots, he thought. Quiet ones. Unpolished. Then, he pulled a cigarette from behind his ear and stared at it like it might light itself. It didn’t. “Shit,” he muttered. Jonathan fished through his pockets with one hand. Nothing … but just when almost all hope was lost, someone passed by. The timing was too perfect to ignore. He didn’t even check who it was. “H-hey,” he called out, a little hesitant at first. God, was that creepy? Too late to reconsider! He lifted the cigarette. “You got a light?”

the-sure-shot

The trip home for bug spray was supposed to be quick, in and out, but then Mom called the home phone from Melvald's asking him to grab her a sweater-- the white one with the pearl buttons-- and then Dustin was screaming at him about bringing back snacks from the walkie talkie Lucas was embarrassed to still use sometimes. And after all that, he had to crawl up and down every last side street looking for a place to park. Now that the sun wasn't beaming down its unforgiving rays, it seemed like the entire town had come out of hiding for the firework show.

The firework show that had started fifteen minutes ago.

He finally, blessedly, managed to squeeze in between an obnoxious cherry red convertible and a Buick. Lucas was spilling out of the driver's seat before he even put it in park, gathering the sweater, bug spray, and two bags of Bugles under one arm while he turned the lock with the other. He strained to hear the band, trying to place how far along in the theatrics they were as he booked it to the little patch of grass the party had claimed.

Lucas stopped short when he heard a familiar voice calling out, turning on his heel to see Jonathan behind the church, unlit cigarette in his fingers. "Oh-- hey, Jonathan," he smiled, glancing back at his car and nodding. "Uh-- yeah, in my car. One sec?" Lucas deposited his belongings on a nearby bench, jogging back across the street to rummage through his eternally cluttered center console. He returned to Will's brother with a cobalt blue lighter in his hand, which he passed over.

When Jonathan's eyes dropped to the odd collection of items in Lucas' care, he rolled his eyes. "Mom says that I have to run errands for her whenever she wants. 'Cause I'm still on her insurance-- but like, what kid can pay for car insurance off a dishwashing job?" He shrugged, taking a seat on the bench and resigning to his fate of missing the fireworks show. One pro? He wouldn't have to pretend not to see his dad get all teary-eyed about the national anthem.

"You working?" Lucas asked, gesturing at the church behind them.

#w/ jonathan #//boseph i am ??? sorry this is so long. dont match (threat)

runawayymax

Max couldn't believe all this fuss was over a calculator, and at Lucas' bewilderment she insisted, "Well if you feel so bad, go back and give him the thirty bucks." She shrugged, flipping the calculator upside down and punching in 0.208 before continuing, "Exactly. Radio Shack is a national chain, they're not going to miss your money. I doubt that dude will even know it's missing." She handed Lucas the calculator, numbers transformed into letters that read 'BOZO'. With both hands free, she set her board back on the ground and pushed off slowly and continuously to keep pace with Lucas. Interactions with him, and most of the party for that matter, were still somewhat daunting. It was like the first few seconds after getting in the pool where every movement was cold and unforgiving until the water warmed up. Max was still adjusting to the temperature. "Where's everyone else?" Max asked, stopping abruptly to glare at a boy she recognized as Troy Walsh who almost shoulder-checked her off her skateboard, "Hey! Watch it!" She yelled behind her, then continued to Lucas, "We're not going to stay for the speeches and rara school spirit stuff, right?" She had little interest in hanging around the block party, but she'd also gotten literal no clarity on what they were all even supposed to be doing here. To really drive the point home, Max added, "It's already a bummer we have to start school, I don't need more reminders."

the-sure-shot

Max had a point about Radio Shack being a national chain and all. It's not like they were hurting for money. His mom would kill him for this, but Lucas... mostly didn't want to seem like a bitch in front of Max, because she clearly has no problem calling him out. "Yeah, well..." he shrugged, rolling his eyes at Max's message via calculator. "This bozo is saving up for a new pair of shoes, so every dollar counts."

He hazarded a glance in Max's direction, meeting her eye for a beat before saying, genuine, "Thanks." Lucas was sure she would've done it for anybody-- something about the thrill of the act, or whatever-- but he'd let himself think it was a moment, just for a while until logic won out.

"I have no idea," Lucas confessed, taking Max's near-assault of Troy Walsh in stride. (If anyone deserved it...) "I think Will's helping out at the Melvald's booth... haven't seen Mike yet." He did a quick scan for Dustin to no avail. If he was messing with the god damn ham radio again, Lucas swore to God...

"So it was a rumor that you tried out to be a cheerleader!" he joked, shaking his head at Max in faux-disbelief. "I thought you were turning over a new leaf. Senior year, and all." Lucas shook his head, then hedged it with, "We at least should hear Dustin speak. And Erica, I guess." He was less excited about the latter, only because he was sure she'd manage to write in some dig special for him.

"Just think, this time next year you won't have to do all this shit again, ever." The thought of this time next year put a nervous pit in Lucas' stomach, though. It was possible-- likely-- that this time next year, he'd be living in an entirely different city from his best friends. Everything would be so different, more than it already was. Lucas was usually good with change, adaptable was what his dad said, but now... he just wanted things to slow down for a while.

#w/ max

runawayymax

𝐖𝐇𝐎: max mayfield & YOU 🫵 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄: back to school block party on mainstreet 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓: max is bored, shenanigans ensue

Time was a funny thing. One day, four years ago, The Hargrove-Mayfield caravan rolled into town, and Max hated it. Hawkins showed it's true colors fairly quickly, in spite of it, she felt a sense of belonging for a brief period of time, then went back to hating it. Now, on the precipice of her senior year, Max still wasn't fond of Hawkins. Whoever said time heals all wounds, or she'd come around, or whatever bullshit, was a big fat liar. In theory, she was supposed to meet the rest of "The Party" (she didn't even play Dungeons and Dragons) behind the barricades that corralled in vendors on main. But she hadn't had a social life this robust in years, so she was comfortable taking her time before surrounding herself with Dustin, Lucas, and Mike and their nonsense for hours on end. Max set her skateboard down in the streets, weaving between booths and bodies freely, reveling in the glare or two she got. She'd miss Summer. Booth after booth flew past in bright blurs of green and gold until one thing, or rather person, stuck out. Max skidded to a stop at the familiar face doing their best, but failing miserably to haggle. Just her area of expertise! Like she'd done a million times before, she tucked her board beneath her arm and approached. "This is kind of pathetic." She informed the other person, then raised her brows to say now watch how it's really done. With the sweetest, most fabricated concern, Max chimed in to the vendor, "Excuse me, I think that kid just ran off with one of your products." She pointed in the opposite direction, and when the vendor naturally looked and began to yell, she snagged something off the table. She'd had worse days, worse deeds. Grinning, she slowly walked away from the booth, holding the item in her hand for the other to take, "See? Now it's free."

the-sure-shot

Lucas had been saving all summer for the Worthy 790s. It was senior year, and he was a starter, and if Steve Harrington wasn't full of shit-- they'd be an investment, a pair of shoes that would carry him through at least the first two years of college practices. Plus, they were cool as shit. He had just enough cash saved from mowing lawns and washing dishes at Benny's to buy them...

At least until last week, when he and Dustin had wrestled each other off the dock at Lover's Lake, effectively submerging his graphing calculator. They'd managed to fish it out, but the thing was toast. It was a whole thing with his Mom, too, the fact that she could buy him a new one but wanted to teach him responsibility. Lucas wasn't mad about it or anything-- he agreed he should work and everything-- but she wouldn't even consider a loan. That was brutal.

All this is how he found himself at the Radio Shack booth, haggling with a bored college student over the TI-Math Explorer which was certainly not worth the $30 on the tag. He was opening his mouth to ask if the guy would at least consider skipping sales tax when Max quite literally zoomed in. He wasn't quick enough to put two and two together, until the calculator was shoved in Max's jacket and she was tugging him away from the booth.

"Max!" he protested, eyes wide in shock. Lucas really did like to think he was different--cooler now that he was a varsity athlete and all-- but his first thought was how pissed his mom would be if she found out. His second thought, however, was that it was nice of Max to do that for him. "He's gonna know it was me!" he glanced guiltily back to the booth. Even Lucas wasn't convinced the guy would notice, or care if he did. Lucas chewed on his bottom lip, looking back to Max with trepidation slowly melting off his features, "I mean... He was being unreasonable! Dustin could make a TI for like ten bucks."