#notebook junkie

[toruandmidori]

Misanthropes of the world rejoice! Well, maybe not…

But check out our grumpy, grumbly range of journals and diaries specifically design for housing all your darkest, rantiest thoughts and feelings. 

Available to buy online in hardback or ring bound form, shop the collection here, individual links below: 

MY EVER EXPANDING LIST

GRIEVANCES

BITCH PLEASE

[vmaddesso]

found my old art journal

[danissv]

From my collection of weird shlt 😜

[zeltqz]

imagine armin taking the rice purity test lol

“Hey Armin...” 

He looks up from his book at you, sitting pretty next to him.

The way you said his name has him on his guard, on the edge of his seat. Your voice is so crisp and steady, yet the playful look in your eye tells him you’re up to no good.

“Yeah?”

“You like taking tests, right?”

“...yeah?”

You hand your phone out to him, nodding your head towards it as he looks at you skeptically. 

You sigh. “It’s not a bomb, Armin. Take my phone and do the test.”

“What test?”

“Do it and you’ll see.” You slip off the couch, stretching your arms out in the air and yawn, body feeling light as you let out all the tension from your muscles. “Call me when you’re done.”

You don’t offer much more of an explanation when you trod off to the kitchen, humming a tune under your breath. Armin looks down at the phone screen. It’s a simple looking quiz, the words Rice Purity Test in red letters at the top has him a little confused. 

Why does he need to take a test on rice? And what is so pure about rice?

Most importantly, why did you look so cheeky when handing the phone to him when it’s a test about…rice?

He tosses his book to the side, careful to keep the bookmark from slipping out. Slowly he begins to tick off the boxes. Held hands romantically? He’s never been in a relationship, nor had he ever had the courage to talk to his crush before so no.

Been on a date? Nope. Danced without leaving room for Jesus? What? 

It takes him a little moment before he gets it, the lightbulb inside his brain flickers on, flashing as bright and yellow as his hair.

 A small gasp leaving his throat has you snickering from the kitchen, already having a feeling he’s finally understood the true intentions behind this test. 

He slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes wide, fingers hesitating to scroll down further. He doesn’t consider himself a dirty person, nor someone that has sexual thoughts very often, but hanging out with Connie and Jean has its perks (he hates sitting next to Connie in class because he makes it his personal job to draw little balls on the corners of Armin’s notebook), He’s able to deduce their dirty jokes in record time before they laugh at him for being as innocent as the pure driven snow. 

He may not be dirty minded, but he isn’t clueless. 

“Armin, is everything ok?” you call out, hiding a laugh when he doesn’t verbally respond, only nodding his head, his fluffy sandy hair moving with the movement. “Tell me when you’re done.”

He’s tuned you out at this point, now forgetting scrolling through the test in chronological order, skipping half the questions to read the rest. It only gets worse. The questions are more obscene, explicit, X-rated, questions ranging from sexual activity, to drugs, to—oh my god, is that beasitality..?— law breaking criminal activity, and just the mere thought of him completing these has his cheeks flushing hot from embarrassment.

You’re able to sneak up behind him, crossed arms resting on the back of the couch. “I scored 70.”

He visibly jumps when your silky voice is so close beside his ear, and he can smell the strawberry flavoured milkshake you’d been drinking on your breath. “70?” he asks, and you nod your head, taking another sip. “Is that good?”

“It means I’m not a whore, a junkie, or a weirdo if that’s what you’re asking—”

“I wasn’t asking that—”

“—but if you think mine is bad, you should see Eren and Jean. Holy fuck, we did it after class and Jean scored 66, Eren scored 64. Connie definitely lied because he said he’d scored 40 but we all know that’s straight up bullshit. Mikasa refused to take it and Sasha scored 90.”

Armin blinks at you, stunned for a moment. He didn’t realise this test was sucha  big deal and that everyone  took it. Now he’s a little embarrassed because he knows he will score lower than his male counterparts. It’s not that he’s a virgin…ok, he’s a virgin, but by choice. 

He gets attention at school, girls show their attraction to him, but he always declines politely, mainly because they’re probably using him to boost their own ego, wanting to go after the more quiet one for whatever reasons they have in their mind. 

“Go on, continue. Don’t let me stop you.” You take another sip of the milkshake, and maybe there’s something in the air, maybe the test had gotten to his head because he focuses on the way your lips wrap around the bottle, the few drops of the milkshake dribbling down your chin has him taking a shaky breath, his mind already replacing that image with something else. 

“Uh…ok, okay yeah,” he stutters out, ripping his gaze from your face back down to your phone. 

His nerves are racing ten times faster with the feel of your eyes watching every movement of his fingers, each box he ticks off. It’s a good thing he can’t see your face, he doesn’t wanna know what kind of face you’re making when you watch him skip past almost every single box, fingers hesitating before ticking off the Masturbated to a picture or video? box. 

“You what?” You shriek out by accident, making him visibly jump once more from the sudden raise of your voice. “I would never have guessed that, holy shit.”

“It’s—”

“Relax, Armin,” you giggle helplessly, “you look like you’re 'bout to faint. It’s not a bad thing to masturbate. I just never expected that from you. So…” you tilt your head to the side, corner of your lips curling up in a wry smirk, “ who did you jerk off to?”

“I—I, well, I didn’t—”

“Was it porn?”

“No—”

“Someone we know?”

“I—”

“Was it Annie?”

“No—” His face is beet-red at this point and you swear he’s sweating profusely. 

“Are you going to tell me even if I get it right?”

“No…”

You sigh , long, exasperated, shifting to sit next to him on the couch, knee knocking against his from how close you sat. “Alright that’s fair, I guess.”

He blinks at you with those intoxicatingly innocent eyes of his. “I don’t think I’m going to score that high on this.”

“I know that. This is probably the first test you’ll ever fail.” At that he frowns, and you reach out to pinch his cheeks, “don’t be sad, failing this test ain’t a bad thing. It’s kinda good. Means that you’re still…uh, how do I say this politely? Uh—innocent? I dunno, just know it ain’t anything bad, so don’t get upset.”

“Yeah?”

You nod your head. “If anything, the lower score you get on this, the more I don’t trust you. ‘Cause whaddya mean you snorted coke and ran from the police?”

He lets out a genuine breathless laugh, feeling a surge of confidence course its way through his veins. “Ok, I’ll finish the test.”

A couple moments later, he hands you back the phone, a bright red 96 as the final score. Your eyebrows lift when you see it, taking a quick peek over at him. He’s red as a tomato at this point, purposefully trying to avoid your gaze, eyes darting everywhere but your face. 

“You’ve never even kissed someone before?” His cheeks tint impossibly redder as he avoids your question, and you bite at your lip. “Want me to teach you?”

He finally looks at you, eyes wide in shock. “Huh?”

“I asked if you want me to teach you.”

“Teach me how to k—kiss?”

You shrug your shoulders, like what you’re proposing isn’t a big deal at all. It’s really not. To someone like you, kissing isn’t even that deep. It’s just a kiss. But to Armin? He feels like he can’t even get a proper sentence out. 

“If you don’t wanna it’s okay, I won’t be offended.”

“It’s not that—I just…won’t it be weird?”

“Hm?” You shift a little closer to him on the couch, till his back is against the armrest and you’re hovering over him, arms by the side of his face. “It’ll be weird if you make it weird.”

You feel a rush of adrenaline flush down your body when he looks up at you, his mouth agape, breathless as his eyes drop down to your lips. You lean closer for the benefit of it, ensuring your mere presence is enough to make his heart stutter in his chest. 

“Is that a yes, Armin?” 

His throat bobs when he swallows, eyes fluttering as he takes in the sight of you, gazing down at him suggestivly. The deep, prolonged, eye contact has his cheeks burning red. He gathers the saliva in his mouth to moisten it up, worried his voice would come out hoarse otherwise. “Yes.”

“Okay—” You’re leaning in closer. His world goes in slow motion. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“O—okay.” 

His eyes remain open for the first few seconds your lips press against his. It’s slow, slow enough for him to learn the proper movements, tilting his head to the side to properly angle his mouth into yours. The kiss isn’t a full on make out yet, and he freezes up when he feels the tip of your tongue slide against his bottom lip. You suck his lip into your mouth, pulling away to look him in the eye, soak in the sight of him falling apart under you before letting go. 

“How was that?”

“It was good…yeah, yeah good.” 

“Alright, now—” you sink backwards to grab your phone, unlock it, then hand it back to him. “—now you can tick that off the list.”

[balladofsallyrose]

Dennis Hopper's collection of owned and gifted books (a few are listed under the cut)

Islands in the Stream (Charles Scribner's Sons, 1970)

Magic (Delacorte Press, 1976)

Sneaky People (Simon and Schuster, 1975)

Strange Peaches (Harper's Magazine Press, 1972)

I Didn't Know I Would Live So Long (Charles Scribner's Sons, 1973)

Baby Breakdown (The Bobbs-Merrill Company, Inc., 1970)

37 (Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1970)

Presences: A Text for Marisol (Charles Scribner's Sons, 1970)

Little Prayers for Little Lips, The Book of Tao, The Bhagavadgita or The Song Divine, and Gems and Their Occult Power.

Lolita (G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1955)

The Dramas of Kansas (John F. Higgins, 1915)

Joy of Cooking (The Bobbs-Merrill Company, 1974) 

The Neurotic: His Inner and Outer Worlds (First edition, Citadel Press, 1954)

Out of My Mind: An Autobiography (Harry N. Abrams, Inc., 1997)

The Savage Mind (University of Chicago Press, 1966)

Alive: The Story of the Andes Survivors (J.B. Lippincott Company, 1974)

The Documents of 20th Century Art: Dialogues with Marcel Duchamp (Viking Press, 1971)

The Portable Dorothy Parker, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, I Ching, and How to Make Love to a Man.

John Steinbeck's East of Eden (Bantam, 1962)

James Dean: The Mutant King (Straight Arrow Books, 1974) by David Dalton

The Moviegoer (The Noonday Press, 1971)

 Erections, Ejaculations, Exhibitions and General Tales of Ordinary Madness (City Light Books, 1974)

Narcotics Nature's Dangerous Gifts (A Delta Book, 1973)

The Egyptian Book of the Dead (Dover Publications, 1967)

Tibetan Yoga and Secret Doctrines (Oxford University Press, 1969)

Junky (Penguin Books, 1977) by William S. Burroughs

Weed: Adventures of a Dope Smuggler (Harper & Row, 1974)

Alcoholics Anonymous (Alcoholics Anonymous World Services, 1976)

Skrebneski Portraits - A Matter of Record, Sketchbooks of Paolo Soleri, and High Tide.

Raw Notes (The Press of the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design, 2005)

Le Corbusier (Heidi Weber, 1965)

Henry Moore in America (Praeger Publishers, 1973)

Claes Oldenburg (MIT Press, 2012)

Notebooks 1959 1971 (MIT Press, 1972)

A Day in the Country (Los Angeles County Museum of Art, 1985)

Album Celine (Gallimard, 1977)

A Selection of Fifity Works From the Collection of Robert C. Scull (Sotheby Parke Bernet, Inc. 1973)

Collage A Complete Guide for Artists (Watsun-Guptill Publications, 1970)

The Fifties Aspects of Painting in New York (Smithsonian Institution Press, 1980)

A Bottle of Notes and Some Voyages (Rizzoli International Publications, 1988)

All Color Book of Art Nouveau (Octopus Books, 1974)

A Colorslide Tour of The Louvre Paris (Panorama, 1960)

Dear Dead Days (G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1959)

Woman (Aidan Ellis Publishing Limited, 1972)

The Arts and Man ( UNESCO, 1969)

Murals From the Han to the Tang (Foreign Languages Press, 1974)

A (Grove Press Inc., 1968)

Andy Warhol's Index Book (Random House, 1967)

Voices (A Big Table Book, 1969)

Another Country (A Dell Book, circa 1960s)

On The Road (Signet, circa 1980s) 

[thebatbites]

SHES DONE!!!!

my first reference that took billions of years to finish!!

i will type out the bullet points just in case because its kind of hard to read

job junkie, never sticks to the same job twice

AuDHD

cant cook to save her life

thousands of unfilled notebooks

disney special interest

still sleeps with plushies

draws on her pants when bored

aaron is teaching her how to lift

collects pins, keychains, and bottle caps

resident nail painter

and thats it! i hope you like her!! shes so silly!! <3

[crmsnmth]

Hello

I guess I wasn't clear enough on the third version, so here's Version 4 Introductions are stupid. Hi. My name is Chris. I'm 35. I live in a small-town of about 2000 people in the center of the state of Wisconsin. It is not even close to as glamorous as it sounds. I've lived in quite a few other places though, but I guess it's true that we always go home. I work as a kitchen manager/EC. I've been working in the kitchen on and off for most of my working life. My first job was a cashier at a certain fast food pizza place that makes rectangle pizzas. That aren't good, but the breadsticks always kicked ass.

I am a massive music fan (it's playing right now) and when I tell you I listen to all music, believe me when I say all music. My main daily playlist is always growing and includes everything from iwrestledabearonce to Katy Perry (listen to her unplugged album. Kissed a Girl as a jazz type thing is beautiful) to Atmosphere to Miley Cyrus to Alan Jackson to Dying Fetus. My favorite band is Descendents with Amigo The Devil and Frank Turner coming very very close to that coveted spot. I am a major horror fan, and I don't think I own a single t-shirt that isn't somehow horror related. I'm a sucker for the 80's slashers. I've seen every Friday the 13th movie enough times that if you ever watch them with me, I will annoy you by quoting the lines throughout the whole movie. I am Bipolar. Type 1. I am a raging cynic.

I am an addict in (long-term) recovery. I am sober. I write more than any sane person does, but I never once claimed to be sane. I write because if I don't, my head will explode. You can think this a metaphor all you want.

I do not write for anyone's approval, not even my own. I do this because it's a safe form of release that it's ok to be addicted to. If you have constructive criticism, I'll gladly take it because let's face it, I'm pretty bad at this whole thing. If you're just going to tell me I suck, in however many words, well, I don't need you to tell me that. Dick. I don't follow any rules or guidelines in what I write. So I call it lawless poetry even though half of it doesn't even fit poetry. Most of it is stream of conciseness built around a line or phrase I came up with during the day. I do this every single night. It's my ritual before bed. I journal (which is also posted in a blog) and then I work on my phrases and lines. I've been called garbage at this, but to those who can't give me a reason (other then you don't like it)if you can't back up your reason for being an art critic, your opinion means jack to me. Besides, anyone who claims to be an art critic is a narcissistic jackass. Art is subjective. Not just "I don't like it." Tell me why you don't like it. Tell me it's repetitive. I need to stop. Or I'll rant and moan about why I hate armchair critics for way too long.

So what will you find on my tiny drop in the ocean of the internet? You will see bad poetry, and an awful lot of it to be honest. You'll find random drops of fiction or a story I happen to be working on and want some form of opinion on it. I post at least once a day, but can post up to ten or fifteen times a day. And most of it is just your average mundane sad boy bad poetry. And if you see how much I do post, think of how much stuff I have laying around that never gets touched. I have boxes of notebooks, napkins and matchbooks with lines I thought we're clever.

So since I write so much, what the hell is it exactly that I write about? That's easy. I'm pretty predictable in the end. So, this stuff: The Girl With Ocean Blue Eyes*, Kid*,The Broken Mirror Girl*, My Junkie Angel*, The Girl From California*, An Ex Band-Mate, love, lost lovers, hopelessness, isolation, drug addiction, alcoholism, depression, forgotten acquaintances, mental illnesses, rage, hate, rejection, joy, insignificant moments, slices of life, laughter, beauty, self and self-reflection, self-hate, art, other writers, panic, infatuations, obsession, therapy, group homes, rehab, jail, grace, nature, loss, hope, fear, grief, anguish, philosophy, anarchism, nihilism, religion, god, the devil, ugliness, politics, serial killers, cults, suicide, death, destruction, chaos, music, validation, closure, memory, enemies, friends, rock bottom, sex, violence, rock and roll, sin, self-exploration, bipolar disorder, schizoaffecive disorder, pain, self-destruction much more.

Consider this line right here your trigger warning. Please see above to see my chosen subjects, and it should be clear that I will write something that can bring up some feelings. I make music as well for another creative outlet. No, I don't churn out songs like I do the written word, but I love my music and if you would like to tell me how much I suck at it here's the links:

https://www.reverbnation.com/crmsnmth

If I come off as extremely depressed in my work, please know that I am fine. I'm good. Ok? Ok.

There, now you know the barest of my bare bones. You want to know anything else, just ask. I'm always happy for the fifteen second interaction. And I always try to interact with those who interact with me, but I am not one to talk first. If you follow me, know that I will most likely follow you back. Unless your space is empty, a bot, porn.

*Not their real names.

[rowretro]

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

WARNINGS: Hardcore Drug usage, underage drinking/smoking, 

✧CHAPTER 2✧

Another Monday morning at school. Just another normal day of small groups of giggly girls gossipping about last night’s latest drama, some even hanging their head low in shame of whatever rendezvous or embarrassing dare they had gone with at the Rave. Many were hung over and tired. For Y/n, she was high. People find it hard to tell whether the girl’s sober or not as she knows how to put up an act.

Last night’s events were a blur to her, she slumped in her seat, near the back corner where she always is.  As she brought a flask of whiskey to her mouth, more students walked in, going to their designated seats, completely shielding her from the teacher’s view. Riki slipped beside her, glancing at her as she sipped on her whiskey. “Pretty boy who knows where I live-” the girl said as her eyes met his. Riki scoffed, opening his book “Don’t think that you're special, junkie. I only picked you up because your brother asked me to.” Riki coldly said, as he scribbled down some words in his notebook. 

The girl shrugged, going about her business as Riki continued scribbling in his book, glancing at the board every now and then, as the teacher went about her lecture. All the while, y/n was busy sketching some little doodles in the margin of her book as she took a few, necessary notes. Riki found his eyes wandering along the margins of her books. The pretty sketches, messy but artistic. 2 hours had passed and break time finally came. The girl didn’t waste any time, taking a few things from her bag secretively and slipping them into her bra as she left the classroom. She left her bag behind, as they were going to be stuck in the same class for a whole year, due to some issues that had sparked in school restrooms and hallways. 

The girl went outside, where many people sat at tables eating with friends or chatting about the most random shit ever. The girl cautiously, went a little more further, arriving at a restricted area that led to an abandoned park. Now she was out of no one’s sight, not even a camera in view, she lit up one of her joints, inhaling the smoke, letting it hit her throat, as she exhaled shortly after. “We haven’t even made it until lunch and here you are already smoking.” A voice called as y/n darkly stared at the male, smoke leaving her mouth “You’re one to talk Yang.“ The girl narrowed her eyes at the boy who rolled his eyes. Y/n’s best friend. Jungwon.

The boy wasn’t a fan of her constant smoking, but who was he to tell her what to do?  “Want a puff?” she asked as Jungwon blinked at her, his eyes flickered from her to the joint back to her again. “No not now we’re in school.” The male pointed out. The two turned to the gate, cautious as they heard the sound of two males snickering and walking their way. The barbed gate opened revealing none other than Kim Sunoo and his dear friend Riki. “Fuck- I thought we were going to get caught for a second-” Jungwon sighed “Meet Riki, the abroad friend I was talking about, the one I met online-” Sunoo said as Jungwon nodded. 

“Does Heeseung know you do the junk in school hours  as well?” Sunoo asks, as y/n shrugs “Why does he need to know” the girl mumbled, peacefully smoking as Sunoo rolled his eyes, pulled out a cigarette “Want one?” he asked as Riki shook his head “We have to had back in 5 so-” the boy said as Sunoo put it away. y/n finished her joint, putting it out, throwing it into a puddle, she hopped off the slightly damaged rock wall, touching up her make up and spraying herself in Jungwon’s spray. “Why mineeee” he whined. “Men’s spray smells better, plus it helps better with the smell.” She reasoned, sticking a cherry lollipop in his mouth, and opening one for herself, as she handed Sunoo 2. “For your racer friend too.” She simply said, Jungwon dragged her away. 

As the boys went to their own classes, y/n and Riki walked back to theirs. The 2 shared a good distance where the awkward silence filled in. However that silence was long gone when y/n went back to her seat. Then came some squealy girls, fangirling over how one of them managed to hook up with Heeseung. Disgusted, y/n covered her ears, her head hitting the table as she pretended to sleep. 

Riki rolled his eyes at the noise, softly nudging y/n “What?” she asked, a twinge of annoyance in her tone. “You want to do coke after school?” the boy asked out of nowhere. Did she care? No, free cocaine “Sure where?” she asked, "At my place duh, it’ll just be us though, the others are against anything beyond weed.” The boy said as the girl nodded. “He was so easy, you should have seen his face!” the girl said, a little loud, as y/n rolled her eyes. “so fucking stupid” Riki mumbled, clearly annoyed. It’s obvious. If anything, Hee was playing with her, she was nowhere near his type.

The school day went by ever so slowly. The slow hours were dreadful, but it would soon be forgotten. Hearing the bell ring, everyone jumped from their seats, rushing to leave the building, not even letting the poor teacher finish her sentence. Y/n walked to a shop, only to be yanked by her wrist. SHe frowned, her eyes landing on Riki “Aren’t you going to hang out with me?” the male asked as y/n frowned, confused as to why he’d want to get high with her of all people. “Yeah I’m just getting some drinks…” the girl trailed off, pointing at a corner store. 

Being the daughter of a pretty respectable Celebrity like her father, y/n got away with many things. Like buying alcohol despite being a minor. She left the shop with her school bag stuffed with bottles, and even some in her shopping bag. “I got the snacks brother- lets go.” She randomly blurted. Riki frowned as she dragged her to his car. “The paparazzi were recording us, I saw two of them in the bushes…” she mumbled as they got in the car. 

✧𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓✧

[anapotatowriter]

Perfection

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: Totally obsessed with him now... please send requests- Also, I spent much longer and wrote way more than I thought I would for this-

Summary: Y/N’s best friend’s brother is the one for her (geddit-)... also, three dumbasses try to set their brother up.

Contains: Swearing, some spoilers for Dirty Dancing, horrible knowledge of the years where these kids were still teenagers, Ben doesn’t die and Five doesn’t time travel to the apocalypse, Kinda proud of this!

ALSO, NO SPOILERS FOR SEASON 3 (Even though everyone has probs already watched it-)

Requested: Not exactly, but I got the prompt from my bestie @art-junkie-13​ , who is honestly so brilliant for this! I literally loved writing this-

“KLAUS!” I exclaimed, throwing another pebble at his window in the academy. Or so I thought. Just as I threw another pebble, the window slammed open, a different boy peeking out. He looked down at me in confusion before a frown settled on his face, just as the pebble hit him right on the forehead, making him grasp his forehead. I cringed immediately, way to set a good impression on your best friend’s siblings. “Wait, you’re not Klaus,” I said matter of factly, loud enough for the green-eyed brunette to hear. “Of course, I’m not Klaus. I’m his brother, Five Hargreeves,” said the boy with an appalled expression on his face as he rubbed at his head, making me nod and giggle softly at his reaction. “Well Five, can you please call Klaus?” I pleaded. “Sure,” the boy shrugged, disappearing from the window. I anxiously tapped my foot against the grass, biting the nail of my index finger as I glanced up occasionally at Five’s window. Suddenly, the luxurious doors of the academy slammed open, making me yelp in surprise as I fixed my stare at the door. “KLAUS!” I exclaimed happily when I saw my best friend, relief coating my features as I ran to the boy and enveloped him in a hug. “Y/N, hi! Come in,” said Klaus, hugging me tightly for a second before ushering me into the Academy, the door closing behind us. “Guess who got full marks in her oral presentation!” I explained as soon as we entered the living room, pausing my movements to give Klaus a proud smile and jazz hands. “I told you you’d do it!” celebrated Klaus, giving me a high five. “You know, you’re really not supposed to have outsiders over, Klaus,” said a voice from the shadows, making Klaus and I turn towards the source. Five stepped out, his hands in his pockets as he looked me up and down. “Oh please, what dear old daddy Reginald doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” said Klaus, practically throwing himself on the sofa. “Sorry for hitting you in the head,” I said, awkwardly rubbing the back of my neck. “YOU HIT HIM ON THE HEAD AND DIDN’T EVEN TAKE A PHOTO?! I AM INSULTED!” gasped Klaus dramatically from his place on the couch, making Five roll his eyes. “I am Y/N,” I said, smiling at him before holding out my hand. He looked at my hand for a moment before placing his hand in mine, shaking it confidently. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. Though, I would advise you to leave soon. Reginald is a force to be reckoned with,” nodded the boy, making me smile gratefully. Five strolled away, and I turned back to Klaus, Ben soon joining us in our conversation. I left the house soon after, thoughts constantly flitting back to the green-eyed boy I had met for the first time.

As I frequented the Academy more often, the only person aware of my presence was Five, other than Klaus and Ben of course. Five would often frequent Klaus’s room, informing him, Ben, and I when another family member was arriving so that I would have the time to escape or hide. “Hey,” I said, knocking on the open door. Five looked up from his notebook and nodded as a way to tell me to come in. “Why are you doing maths and physics?” I groaned in disgust, looking at the familiar symbols I had seen on the blackboard this morning. “Time travel,” he explained simply, continuing his calculation. “Shouldn't this be 0.02 instead of 0.2?” I asked, pointing at the number in his notebook. “Hmm,” he nodded in appreciation, nodding before erasing the pencil marks and correcting the following steps. “Why don’t you come along?” I asked when he placed the pencil down. “What is it? Do you need some help?” he asked, looking up from his calculations. “Well… no? It would be cool if you could hang out with us though,” I shrugged, a surprised expression taking over his face. “What’s with the expression?” I chuckled, shoving him a little.  “Well, typically people find me… overbearing? Serious?” he said questioningly, making my heart sink slightly. “Oh well, you’re stuck with me then,” I said, trying to lighten the mood, grabbing the crook of his elbow between both my hands and pulling him along to Klaus’s room, which smelt distinctly of weed. That day, a small smile graced Five’s face that didn’t leave until I was beginning to depart. A small smile that made mine double in size. 

“Shit, shit, shit, late, late, late” I gasped under my breath as I ran out of my mother’s car into the Academy. “FIVE HARGREEVES, I NEED BLOODY HELP,” I yelled as soon as I slammed the double doors open, making all 7 kids look up from their plates, Reginald nowhere to be seen. “Who the fuck are you?” said one of the siblings menacingly, flipping a knife out and pointing it at me. “SHUT UP, KNIFE BOY, I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS,” I snapped, too wound up and stressed to care about manners. “What is it Y/N? Don’t you have a bio presentation in like, five minutes?” asked Five calmly, getting up from his place and walking towards me. “You know her?” asked the blonde boy, who was surprised that his snarky brother even left the house long enough to meet a strange girl. “I’LL TELL YOU WHAT HAPPENED! MY ALARM DIDN’T RING, I MISSED MY BUS, MY MOM IS ON A BUSINESS TRIP, AND DAD LEFT FOR WORK! AND I AM GETTING LATE FOR THE PRESENTATION IN FRONT OF THE WHOLE FUCKING SCHOOL! SO, I STOLE MY MOM’S BLOODY CAR AND DROVE HERE SO THAT YOU CAN TELEPORT ME TO SCHOOL!” I yelled out without taking a breath while Klaus chuckled under his breath. “Y/N, you don’t have a fucking driver’s license, why would you even take a car- You know what, forget it,” said the boy, rolling his eyes as he grasped my hand and blinked away to school. “Thank you so much, Five Hargreeves! I fucking love you,” I gasped as I let go of his hand and ran towards the school block where the presentation was being held. 

 I sighed in relief when the presentation was over successfully. The school day passed slowly, the mounting pressure for the final exams at the end of the tenth grade looming over everyone’s heads. I clambered onto the bus, remembering to get off near the academy to pick up my mom’s car. As I went over to the car, a devious idea played in my mind, making me chuckle evilly as I stepped towards the academy instead. I stopped at the door and took a deep breath before running in screaming like I had done this morning. “FIVE,” I yelled, a panicked expression on my face. This time, I seemed to be interrupting lunchtime instead, Reginald was still not around. “What is it this time?” asked Five, his levels of anxiety rising. He stood up and I ran to him, turning his body towards me and grasping his shoulders tightly. I stood silent for a moment, making him apprehensively  say, “What is it, Y/N?” A small smile started spreading across my face, making Five go from stressed to confused and then just tired. “Seriously?” he asked as I started giggling, making him roll his eyes. “You should have seen your face! Oh, that was hilarious,” I choked out, and I distinctly heard Klaus and Ben laughing along with me. “Hi, I’m Y/N, Klaus’s friend! Sorry, I didn’t introduce myself properly earlier,” I said, smiling at the remaining people. “Wait, Klaus’s friend? I thought Five started sneaking out,” said the blonde, making me chuckle. “Nah, I met Klaus when I was on my way back from school and he was running away from Ben,” I said, chuckling at the memory of Klaus ramming into me like a freight train, making both of us fall over and get covered in mud. “I’ve also kinda been sneaking around your house to hang out with these people,” I said, pointing at my three friends. “Oh, that was the girl's voice I heard,” said the only girl, and I nodded at her statement. “Well, I’m Allison,” she said, smiling warmly at me. “I’m Luther,” said the blonde, nodding his head firmly. “Diego,” said one of the boys, flipping a knife in his hand and scanning me. “I’m Viktor,” said the last boy, waving shyly at me. “I should go and take my mom’s car back home before dad finds out I stole it,” I said, smiling at the family. “Need my help with anything, Y/N? Anything I can do?” asked Five, making me turn towards him, his hand a few inches away from mine. “Just don’t overexert yourself working on those equations and don’t drink seven cups of coffee in the next twelve hours,” I half-joked, grasping his hand for a second as a symbol of reassurance. “And you don’t get arrested for underage driving,” joked back Five, his hold on my hand just as tight. “Best of luck with your English Mocks on Monday,” he said, making me smile at the small detail he remembered. “Yeah, thanks,” I said, looking up into his beautiful eyes that were filled with sincerity, affection, and another emotion I couldn’t quite place. He smiled a little as my eyes remained locked together. “Auf wiedersehen,” chimed in Klaus in German from his spot on the dining table, making me snap away from Five, my hand pulling out of his grasp, the whole family’s eyes on us. “Bye,” I said, skipping away from the room, a burning feeling in my cheeks and a fluttering in my stomach I could identify the cause of. My fingers tingled as I missed the warmth Five’s hands provided to my otherwise cold ones. As I left the room, I saw Klaus nudging Ben slightly with his elbow, a sneaky smile shared between the two that aroused my suspicion. I didn’t notice another pair of eyes that were following my movement, black almost completely overcrowding the green of his irises.

“And best of luck with your exams,” the teacher said over the bell that rang, marking the end of the school year, and the beginning of the exams after the weekend. The mounting stress seemed to direct me to the Hargreeves mansion instead of my own home. I went to the back gardens, right in front of Klaus’s window, pulling my arm back to throw a pebble. I hesitated, however, before moving to Five’s window instead. I threw the pebble, which clinked against the glass. A few seconds later, the window opened and Five looked out and down at me. “Y/N, wrong window,” he said, going back inside before I stopped him. “I kinda wanted to talk to you,” I said, making his eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Okay,” he said, disappearing from the window and appearing right next to me before placing me in his room. “I’m so stressed,” I said as soon as he closed his bedroom door, making his face relax. “About exams?” he questioned, sitting down at his desk as I lay down on his bed. “Yeah! I just don’t want to fail them, or else I stand no chance in university,” I sighed, playing with the threads of his sheets. The smell of coffee and old books that radiated from the sheets calmed down the anxious fluttering in my stomach, the smell familiar. “Y/N, you’re smart, you’ll do amazing,” said Five, moving his rolling chair towards me and grabbing my shoulder, rubbing his thumb in circles. “Thanks, but exams don’t test your smartness, do they? They test your ability to remember what you learned, and I am so bloody forgetful,” I groaned, looking up at the boy with sad eyes. “How about we go to the kitchen? Fires always seem to calm you,” suggested the boy, making me smile slightly and nod. He walked forwards before glancing back at me, waiting for me to get up. I pushed myself off the bed and walked toward him, and we walked together to the kitchens. Grace seemed to be in the painting area, since the kitchen was empty of everyone other than three mischief makers, Klaus, Ben, and Diego. “Hey,” I said to the three of them, making them all grin back at me from the plate of cookies they were chewing. “Why are you here, Y/N? And why didn’t you meet me first?” complained Klaus as Five dragged a chair out from under the table and offered it to me. I shrugged before climbing onto the table and sitting cross-legged on the edge of it. Five rolled his eyes but chuckled a bit, sitting down on the chair he had pulled up instead. “Are you okay, Y/N?” asked Klaus, diverting my attention away from Five. “Huh? Oh, just a bit stressed, honestly… exams in two days, you know,” I said, picking at my nails in agitation. “Want some hot chocolate? I know you like chocolate,” offered Ben, making me grin and nod immediately. “How do you want it?” he asked, moving away from the now empty plate of cookies and towards the kitchen cabinet where the ingredients were kept. “One spoon of cocoa-” I started when I was interrupted by five saying, “Two spoons of sugar, half a spoon of instant coffee and marshmallows.” “Thanks,” I hummed, and the boy nodded his head. Klaus and Diego’s jaws dropped open, while Ben just seemed to smile. “Here,” said Ben, handing me the cup of hot cocoa. I took a sip and grinned before saying, “Absolutely perfect!” I turned to look at Five, who was already looking at me with a small smile on his face. “You’re amazing Five, thank you!” I said, taking slow sips of the cocoa before beginning to converse with the three other siblings in the room, consistently glancing back at the boy just as he looked away. The mischievous glint in the eyes of the three siblings made me wary as I said goodbye to the four of them. I soon left the Academy, armed with the lingering comfort that I got from spending time with the Hargreeves. Or, a particular Hargreeves.

“And that’s the last exam!” exclaimed the invigilator when the clock ticked to 12, making us all jump up in excitement. Cheers filled the school halls as exams giving students streamed out of their classrooms into the corridors, chattering excitedly. I stayed back for a few minutes, thanking the invigilator who laughed and told me to enjoy my summer. I stepped out of the school building, giddy with happiness. There was one location on my mind, the Hargreeves mansion. When I looked up from the steps that lead into school, however, I noticed a familiar group of four people standing on the side, all the students gossiping about them and staring as they walked by. I squealed excitedly, running up to the group, grinning widely. I immediately first pummelled into Five, hugging him tightly. He froze for a second before relaxing and placing his hands on my waist, the ends of his fingertips touching behind my back. “Hey Five,” I said, and he replied with a chuckle. I split away from him a bit, his grip tight on my waist still as I gazed into his eyes, a small smile playing on my lips. “Hey, pay some attention to the rest of us too,” whined Klaus, immediately making me pull away from Five to see Ben elbowing Klaus. I chuckled, hugging Klaus, then Ben, and finally Diego. “How did you guys escape the clutches of Sir Reginald Hargreeves,” I said, making wriggling my fingers to impersonate a ghost when mentioning the man’s name. “He’s gone for a business meeting, which leaves our mansion free for 24 hours! You can come to visit and we can watch a movie!” said Ben happily, his brown eyes glinting with excitement. “So, have you guys watched Dirty Dancing?” I asked, intertwining elbows with Ben and Klaus and pulling them along to the route to my home, Five and Diego walking backward ahead of us to face us. “Can’t say I have,” shrugged Five, making me gasp in mock horror. “It’s 2008 and you still haven’t watched Dirty Dancing? Horrific, we are watching that today,” I decided. I told the boys to wait outside while I greeted my parents, informed them of my plans, and picked up the DVD of Dirty Dancing, along with a few other films. 

Soon, the seven Hargreeves, and I were gathered around their television, and the news channel quickly switched to Dirty Dancing. “Here,” said Five, handing me some popcorn as he passed everyone’s snacks around. “Is this-” I asked before he said, “Cheese popcorn and butter popcorn half and half? Yes,” he said, and I smiled before digging into the popcorn. Five, Diego and I were on the largest couch, Allison and Luther on the smaller one, Ben and Viktor on the third one while Klaus decided to sit on the floor. I curled up into Five’s side, his arm looping around my waist as I got comfortable watching the movie, putting popcorn in my mouth once in a while. “The way I feel when I’m with you!” exclaimed Baby through the screen to Johnny, a wide grin on my face that had started moments before she had begun talking. “It’s so romantic!” I squealed, and Five chuckled slightly from my left at my reaction, making me smack his arm while keeping my eyes on the screen, the empty popcorn box now thrown haphazardly on the side. “I wish I was brave enough to confess to the guy I like,” I sighed, placing my chin on my knuckles before my eyes widened as I realized what I said. “WHAT?!” yelled Klaus and Allison excitedly, making me wince. Five’s grip tightened on my waist. “Y/N,” said Klaus encouragingly, turning his head around to face me. “Klaus,” I replied, nodding disapprovingly. “WHO IS HE?!” yelled Allison, making me roll my eyes. “Irrelevant, Baby is about to sleep with Johnny!” I exclaimed, attempting to distract everyone from me and back to the movie. “Shut up,” said Diego, rolling his eyes and switching off the television. “Just tell us something Y/N,” pleaded Viktor while Ben winked at Klaus, making my brows furrow in confusion. “Ugh, fine,” I groaned, making everyone squeal in delight. Everyone except Five, who had his teeth clenched and an unreadable expression on his face when I looked up at him. I sat up a little in response to his harsh demeanor, adjusting how I sat. “We’re just friends, I haven’t got the guts to confess to him yet. He can be aggravating, and stubborn, that’s just how he is. But he’s loyal, and trustworthy, and he is the smartest person I have ever met. When I look at him, I see… perfection,” I explained, trying to find the best way I could describe Five, without revealing his identity. “Awwww,” said Klaus, making me roll my eyes. “Can we continue the movie now?” I asked and Diego complied, the beginnings of a smirk on his face, along with Klaus and Ben.  I leaned back on the head of the sofa, crossing my arms as I glanced at Five’s side profile. He seemed to be glaring at the screen with a fit of newfound anger, sparking hope in me which I quickly put down. 

I left the mansion soon after the movie was over, vowing to all the siblings to visit them later and explore a bit while their dad was still away. “Meet us at the edge of the park,” Klaus had told me as I said goodbye, Five pointedly looking away from me, which made my heart sink to my stomach. The following day I took the bus toward the park I was directed to, only to see no one there, other than the few families and couples who frequented these public spaces. I walked around the park, wondering where the Hargreeves were. Suddenly, I heard a familiar apparition next to me. “Five?” I asked, turning around to see the brunette standing behind me, his hands in his pockets. My heart thrummed in happiness to see the boy, though the twinge of disappointment pulled me down as I saw the emotionless expression on his face. “Where’s Klaus, Ben, and Diego?” he asked flatly, confusion overtaking my mind. “I thought you would bring them with you?” I asked, making him shake his head. “Klaus, Ben, and Diego left about an hour ago, saying that they’ll join you first. I left just now, Allison, Luther, and Viktor will be coming along a little later,” clarified Five, making me tilt my head in confusion. “The park is only 20 minutes away from your place, and I searched the whole park already. Where are they then?” I asked, making the boy shrug, the lack of interaction from him stinging. “Well, let’s just walk around then?” I asked. The boy hesitated for a second, making me bite the inside of my cheek in hurt before he said, “Sure.” We walked around the park, soon approaching the flower garden that was the main center of attraction, though it was not as crowded at present. I plopped down onto the ground, plucking a flower and twisting the step violently around my fingers to calm my nerves. Five sat down next to me, keeping a small distance between the two of us. We sat in comfortable silence for some time, despite the barely palpable tension between the two of us. “I didn’t like it,” said Five, making me turn to him. He was staring ahead, pointedly looking away from me. “Didn’t like what?” I asked, making the boy look down at the ground and play with the grass. When he didn’t respond, I felt a twinge of confidence strike my heart as I felt I had an inkling of what he was talking about. “You want to know a secret?” I asked, making him look at me in bewilderment and nod hesitatingly. I leaned towards his ear, before taking a hold of his jaw, tilting his face towards me and kissing him. I felt him inhale sharply before responding with equal fervor, making me smile into the kiss. We split apart, leaving our foreheads together, breathing steadily although my heart seemed to be pumping out of my chest. “I think I quite liked that secret,” he murmured, making me laugh softly. “You think Klaus, Ben, and Diego planned this?” I asked, making the boy nod. “Definitely. Did you see the expressions they have been making?” he asked rhetorically, making me laugh harder. “You think I’m perfection?” he asked, making my laughter stop slowly as he looked into my eyes with slight insecurity as he recalled the words I had said last night. “Absolutely,” I said honestly, making him smile a little as I admired the hair that fell on his face. “I think you’re perfection too,” he said, making me beam at the sincere expression on his face. 

Soon, the rest of the Hargreeves joined us, though Five and I did nothing to reveal what had occurred minutes prior. Three out of the seven siblings held disappointed expressions, which made Five and I share secret smirks. Soon, the afternoon drew to a close, signaling that Reginald Hargreeves would soon be reaching home to ruin the perfectly good day. “Bye all of you,” I said sadly as the Hargreeves waved at me, equally sad expressions on their faces. I walked towards the bus and climbed in, buying a ticket for the road nearest to my home. I glanced back through the open door of the bus where everyone stood, including my new lover. He smiled, the small dimples on his face highlighted by the goofy grin. I bit my lower lip for a second before getting off the bus and running to the boy, pulling him in a soft kiss. “Bye, my love,” I whispered before running back to the bus, just as it left the stop. I waved at the Hargreeves through the window, though all of them seemed to be transfixed on their brother, who was frozen and blushing vehemently. Just as they were out of my vision, I saw Klaus, Diego, and Ben immediately start ambushing their brother with questions as he continued to stare at the departing vehicle. I chuckled softly, sighing in exhilaration before leaning back in my seat.

[daigina-3]

Eddie always wanted out of Hawkins.

Chicago is cold in the winter. It has the unpredictability of Indiana but the severity of the tundra. The Windy City winds whip his hair and cut his cheeks- just walking down the street to the coffee shop he frequents makes his nose go numb, no matter how far he pulls his scarf up or how tight he has his leather jacket zipped up with two flannels buttoned up under it for insulation.

(He didn’t have the money for a winter coat before moving and he sure as hell doesn’t have the money *now*)

The coffee shop is warm, a quiet hum of people who braved the December winds for a good cup of Joe and a comfy worn out leather chair to sink into. He stands in line and thinks that Gareth would like it here- he loves quiet places. That Robin would love the music they play and the quirky mismatched mugs they serve coffee in. That Steve would hate their coffee because he hates coffee but would love their hot cocoa.

They’re all about 200 miles away- some even more than that, now. He looks at the group of girls studying and giggling, the couple by the window, the other couple at the center tables.

He’s only ever been here alone.

Eddie sinks into his own chair in the back, letting his hot coffee cup bring the feeling back into his fingers- only then does he unwind his scarf and unzip his jacket.

He spends the day like he does every Saturday- scribbling in his little notebook of lyrics- trying to come up with words but mostly just doodling little dragons that look more like geckos. For the first half hour or so he can feel the little glow of mild accomplishment in his chest- he did *something.* Got out of bed, got dressed, went down the street. Now he’s really working on what he loves- his music.

He gives it two hours of nothing, nothing, nothing- not even stupid little gecko-dragons, each doodle ending up a scribble- before he throws it in and heads back down the street to his shoe box apartment, scarf and jacket back on.

He doesn’t leave the apartment the rest of the day. He makes cheap ham and cheese sandwiches and thinks about how Saturday used to be band practice day- how he’d drive to Jeff’s parents’ house and they’d play in the garage until the neighbors complained. Then they’d go to the Quarry and drink, playing rock, paper, scissors to see who’d be the designated driver. Gareth lost more often than not- dumbass had a penchant for choosing scissors and didn’t realize it.

He washes the sandwiches down with one- or two- too many beers.

Sunday is laying around, the TV on but nothing to watch. He could be going out and exploring the city, frequenting all the bars in all the scenes that didn’t exist in Hawkins.

He never changes out of his flannel PJs.

He stares at the junky rotary phone he got from a thrift shop- sitting on the floor of his living room because he didn’t have money for a side table. Couch, bed, little kitchen table and chair. That was about it.

He stares at that little phone from the couch, his face squished against the cushions as he lies stomach-down.

He bought it two months ago, with the rest of his furniture. He hasn’t used it once.

He keeps telling himself- when he’s settled. When he’s done something worth talking about. When, when, when. Thats’s when he’ll use it.

Or maybe never. He struggles to find a point. It’s been long enough to realize no one really needs him. He thinks about every face pulled his way, every awkward silence, every time he was too much and pretended nothing could touch him.

He buries his face back in the cushion. He can feel every single moment wash over him like a blanket- none totally clear but every one adding to the heavy fog weighing him down.

Sighs. Goes back to sleep at 3 PM.

He wakes up heavier, grimier, mouth tasting like dirt.

The clock on the floor next to his unused rotary phone reads 8:53PM in big angry red numbers.

He has work in eleven hours. Has to be awake in ten. Maybe nine if he wants to eat something before leaving.

He forces himself to go back to sleep because, really, he can’t think of anything else worth doing.

The clock reads 11:22 PM when he opens his eyes again.

He only tells himself the truth late at night.

That he made a mistake. That he’s been in his apartment for just over two months, in Chicago for three and he thought leaving Hawkins was the answer to everything but really Eddie still has almost all of his old problems- only this time he has them alone.

He called a few times from pay phones, in his early weeks. When he was sleeping in his van and just barely landed a job busting tables and had dug up enough spare quarters.

Gareth didn’t pick up. Eddie tried his house twice and slammed the phone down when he got nothing the second time.

Wayne was glad to hear from him, make sure he was alive. And Eddie missed him but Wayne wasn’t one for conversation. He was more of a daily comfort- it was hard to feel him from so far away, when Eddie couldn’t sit with him in silence watching Jeopardy or eating mac n cheese. They talked for about three minutes before Wayne went silent, nothing much to say.

Robin’s mom answered and said she finally left for study abroad- Eddie cursed because he totally forgot, had no number to leave her mom to pass on.

Jeff answered and Gareth was at his house with him- which was a weird pit-in-the stomach feeling for Eddie, but he wouldn’t admit it. They started their mom-and-dad style bickering, laughing about something he wasn’t in the room for when the pit got a little too heavy and Eddie made an excuse to hang up early.

Dustin picked up and then immediately had to hang up on him because Susie was calling.

He pocketed the rest of his quarters and didn’t try again.

He reads from 12AM to 1AM but he doesn’t really read- he skims and skips and goes back because he doesn’t understand what just happened about ten times before he admits that he isn’t paying attention.

The phone is bright red, which seemed better than the faded mint green or bright orange in the shop at the time but Eddie hates how he feels like he can always see that stupid bright red old-ass rotary phone on the floor. It’s always in the corner of his eye, in his peripheral vision, like a god damn ghost.

He doesn’t go back to sleep before he goes in to work.

The next weekend he goes out. He takes the van down to a bar that plays his kind of music and has his kind of people- he doesn’t wear the handkerchief he was so bold to wear in Hawkins, not where people could actually expect things from him. He only ever wore it in Hawkins because it was like playing chicken with the bigots, not because he really knew the ins and outs of its meaning. How close could he come before they clocked him? Would it be the handkerchief that got him done in or did he have to fully sequin his fucking battle vest?

He leaves it in the van and nurses a rum and coke while guys in leather and cropped Judas Priest shirts press up against each other.

At the Hideout he was loud- laughed big, noogied Jeff and played his guitar without any concern for the ear drums of the four drunk guys in the corner who only put up with their dumb band because the Hideout had the cheapest whiskey in town. Eddie then had dreamed of places like this.

Eddie now just has a headache.

(And a heart ache.)

No one approaches Eddie and when someone finally does- a young guy with a goatee and hair longer than his- Eddie smiles nervously and says “sorry, I’m on my way out.” The guy just nods as he goes.

In the van he slumps against the wheel. Thinks about how he could have a warm body pressed against his right now- about how that guy wasn’t what he wanted but maybe he’d do for now and then feels desperate and pathetic and kind of like a prick for thinking it.

He thinks about a battle vest stained with blood on someone who had never worn one before.

He thinks about the girl that someone wanted.

He drives home.

The stupid god damn fucking red phone is there, loud as ever from its silent place on the floor.

Eddie always wanted to leave Hawkins. He always, only ever wanted to leave Hawkins and now Hawkins was following him everywhere, taunting him with the fact that there wouldn’t be anyone on the other end of the phone to pick the fuck up.

Who would want to?

That’s not true, the littlest bit of his brain argues. Wayne is probably worried sick.

Yeah, some fucking nephew (son) he is. Disappearing and calling, like, once. Wayne probably thought he was dead. Wayne probably was worried sick. Wayne probably was the last person to care and every day he didn’t call made it more difficult to try because what a fucking failure. Maybe it would have been better if he’d died in that hospital, or in the upside down, or in his trailer with his eyes being crushed and his limbs snapped instead of Chrissy fucking Cunningham who deserved to be the one alive.

The phone rings.

It rings and Eddie jumps out of his skin because how the fuck is that possible?

He stares it down, watching the plastic vibrate with the force of it.

Ring, riiiing.

He’s never heard the ring before. It’s loud, harsh.

Ring, riiiing. Ring, riiiiing.

It goes on forever, and then stops.

Probably a crank call-

Ring, riiiiing.

Fuck. Eddie sniffles once, ignoring that he was on the verge of more than sniffling, more than red eyes.

(He hates crying. Does it too much.)

Ring , riiiiiiiing.

“Alright, aright, Jesus H. Christ,” he mumbles and for the first time Eddie picks up the phone.

“…hello?”

“Eddie? Eddie is that you?”

Eddie’s chest collapses. His heart gives out. Or maybe his lungs stop. All of it at once.

“S-“ he chokes on air. “Steve?”

“I- yeah. Oh my god I can’t believe this worked! I was visiting Wayne and asked about you and he mentioned that restaurant you’re working at so I called them and they gave me your number! Well, I had to call a couple times cause it’s not technically legal to give out employee info- but that one manager really doesn’t seem to care, so.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything for a long time. And when Steve calls his name again, wonders aloud if the connection is okay, he croaks out, “I’m. I’m here.”

“Oh good-“ Steve laughs, a little nervously. It’s short, clipped, but good natured. He talks- asks Eddie about his job and his apartment and when Eddie is too tired to pretend he’s anything other than exhausted, at his ropes’ end, not there enough to be *Eddie*- Steve doesn’t question it. He gives an easy “hey, thats’s cool man” and fills the silence.

He tells Eddie all about Robin- practically forces him to take down her new number. Updates him on an new mug Wayne bought, he saw him opening it when he got the info on Eddie last. How Dustin’s building some thing for a teen genius competition and Will’s running a game for Hellfire that Steve has caught the end of a few times when he goes to pick the kids up (he mixes up technical phrases and Eddie laughs when he calls Dungeon Masters “Story Telling Guys”).

“I was thinking,” Steve says. “And I mean you can say no-“ as if Eddie would ever say no to him. “I was wondering if it’s okay to visit? I’m going to be up your way next month for a thing, so.. I could stop by. See the new pad.”

The new *pad.* Dork.

“You know, I’m really glad I called. We’ve all been going crazy without you here to drive us crazy,” Steve laughs at his own non-joke. Eddie knows Steve can’t see him repressing a goofy smile but he does it all the same. Stupid joke. Not funny.

(But he gives up and smiles anyway.)

“I’m glad, too,” Eddie says.

It’s just past eleven when Eddie picks up the phone and just past three when he puts it back on the receiver.

With a plan for Steve to come visit for New Years- with some of the kids if the parents give their nod and Steve doesn’t kill then on the ride up- and a promise to call the very next day.

Eddie pulls the phone away from the wall and as close to the couch as the chord will stretch. He thinks about tomorrow and the call and New Years. He falls asleep and dreams of kind boys in battle vests and Hawkins coming right back to him.

[vmaddesso]

practice creativity

[danissv]

Less talk…

[half-deadmagicperson]

Holiday Truce Time!!!

Hi y'all this is my holiday truce gift for @clawofthewild

Title: Afterschool Activities

Summary: William Lancer was sitting in his classroom, bored from grading, when he hears noises from the hallway

Rating: T

Warnings: Injury, Blood, Stitches, Brief Mention of Needle

Event run by @phandomholidaytruce

Anyways I hope y'all enjoy and have a safe and Happy Holiday!!!

     William Lancer was having a pretty average evening. Teaching was as chaotic as usual, especially with all the ghost attacks. But right now, William found himself with the most boring part of his job: grading.

 �� The man sat in his old office chair and tapped his red pen on his lips. Almost done. He just has a few more to finish. This semester his sophomore English class was studying Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. He mildly regrets assigning them all an essay, as his eyes scan another block of text. Finally, he scrawled a number at the top and moved to the next one.

    He looks down at a crumpled piece of notebook paper with a name he was all too familiar with jotted at the top.

‘Danny Fenton'

   Young Daniel was an interesting case. He was quiet and reclusive, never really interacted with anyone in the class. He was constantly tired, but still seemed eager to learn. William heard stories about how wonderful he was in middle school, but as soon as he hit freshman year, he seemed to go south.

  Daniel never really had many friends, aside from Miss Manson and Mr. Foley, but William hasn't seen those three together since fall last year. It appears there was a falling out. William sighed and continued grading.

   The teacher listened to the continuous clicks from the clock on the classroom wall. It was almost 5 o’clock. He could continue his work at home, but he never seems to focus when Darcy, his cat, keeps distracting him. So instead, Lancer sat in the quiet of his classroom listening to the clock and the distant shouts of what was probably a ghost fight.

   William sat there for what felt like hours before he heard a thud in the hallway. That's weird. Nobody should still be in the building. Maybe it was just Carol or one of the other teachers. Quietly, William peaked out the classroom door.

    He could hear the shuffles of feet and quiet murmuring from around the corner. The man crept closer as silently as he could. 

   “Where is it? Where is it?” a voice from around the corner whispered. More shuffling, except it sounded more like someone rifling through something. Amidst the ruffling, strained winces escaped the person's mouth.

   William had one thought. This must be one of the highschool junkies looking for their stash. No wonder they weren't getting caught. They were coming when the school was closed! Should he call the police?

   A loud clang resounded against a locker, followed by a cry of pain. Lancer froze. Were they okay? The sound of stifled, panicked crying answered that question. This person needs help!

   Against his better judgment, William peaked around the corner. A dim glow encompassed the mass lying on the floor. Wait? Was that?

  Amity Park’s very own ghost boy, laid on the crappy linoleum, gripping his side. His chest hitched on every breath as tears streamed down his cheeks.

  William knew the kid needed help, but he was afraid that the kid would disappear if he tried to approach him. He couldn't call a doctor. If he did, the GIW would probably scoop the boy out of existence, or the Fentons would find him. Lancer sighed and looked around.

    His eyes eventually landed on the school nurse's office. There should be at least something in there. William quietly made his way down the hall and jiggled the handle. Unlocked! William flicked on the light, looking around for a first aid kit. He rummaged through the drawers until he found what he was looking for.

   Lancer went back to the corner of the hallway. Hopefully the boy didn't vanish. When he got closer, he heard the breathless sobbing from before. Good, he's still here. William took the kit and set it on the floor. He gave it a push and watched as it slid towards the ghost boy.

   The kit gently stopped right next to the crying boy. Phantom glanced down at the box before frantically looking around. His glowing eyes reflected off the lockers in the dark hallway.

   “Who's there?” the ghost asked fearfully.

   “A friend.” William felt the words come out of his mouth. The boy was shaking. It was weird seeing Phantom in a state like this. It looked like a strong wind could blow him over. William watched as the boy stared at the box.

   “Do…do you need any help?” 

    There was a long moment of silence. At first, William thought the boy had fainted. A soft voice proved him wrong, “Um, I…might need help. I, uh, think it needs stitches.”

   “Is it ok if I come closer?” Lancer asked. He heard the ghost make a positive grunt. Slowly, the teacher slid around the corner to face Phantom. The boy's eyes widened in recognition before he reached for the kit.

  Phantom never let William out of sight. Lancer decided not to move any closer.The timid child shuffled through the kit before pulling out gauze and some other supplies.

   William watched curiously as the boy peeled off part of his iconic HAZMAT suit. It was bad. A giant gash spread across his side. Green liquid oozed out like blood. Phantom moved the hand that was applying pressure as he went to wrap the wound. That gash needed way more than just some gauze.

    Phantom wrapped his wound with extreme precision. He grabbed a pen from the open locker and used it as a tunicate. The boy's swiftness and ease scared Mr. Lancer. How often did Phantom get injured in battle?

  After wrapping his wounds, Phantom went to stand up. William raised a brow.

   “You probably shouldn't be trying to move too much, especially if you need stitches.”

   The boy flinched at the sudden noise.

  “There wasn't any thread in the kit, but I'm wrapped up enough that I can make it home.”

  William went to argue, but was interrupted by Phantom who was now off the floor.

  “I'll be fine! After all, us ghosts aren't supposed to feel pain,” his heavy breathing and leaning against the locker said otherwise, “See! I'm standing! I'll be able to fly ho-”

   William rushed over as the ghost boy crumpled back onto the floor. The teacher went to check for breathing, a pulse, anything to make sure the ghost was ‘alive’. The boy was shivering under his hands. He needed a doctor, but who would accept a ghost? Lancer sighed and rubbed his temples. In a split second decision he stood up and ran to his classroom. 

   Out of his room he grabbed his jacket, coffee mug, and the wet wipes he used to clean off desks. He sprinted down the hall and filled his mug with water from the fountain. After he made his way back to Phantom, he pressed the mug against the boy’s lips, hoping that would help. 

   Using the wet wipes, William quickly went to wipe up the splotches of…blood? Ghost blood? Whatever the term was. He worked silently, watching the ghost’s flickering glow. After he cleaned up the mess, he took his jacket and wrapped the kid up in it.

   William lifted Phantom up with ease and carried him over to the teacher's lounge. The lounge wasn't the greatest place, it had a crummy couch, but it was better than the floor. 

   Lancer pressed his hand against the ghost's forehead. Phantom’s skin felt cold to the touch. No fever. That's good. Suddenly William remembered something. In his desk, he has a sewing kit in case a button comes off his shirt or something while teaching.

   The teacher made a mad dash back to his classroom. He rummaged through the drawers until he found a small kit. It wasn't a lot of thread, but it should work.

   William wiped the needle off with a wet wipe in hopes of better sterilization. The last thing the kid needs is an infection. Lancer ran back to the teacher's lounge to check on Phantom.

   The ghost boy was shaking, probably from blood loss at this point. His fresh gauze was already soaked through with sticky green substance. A glowing ring appeared around the boy’s legs only to disappear again. William has no idea what that was, but he better work quickly.

   The teacher peeled off the layers of bandages to look at the wound. It looked even worse up close. Nausea crept its way into Lancer’s throat. William did his best to push it back as he worked on cleaning Phantom's wounds. He held back a wince every time he made another stitch.

   After the boy was stitched up, he seemed to stabilize. At least, he stopped shaking so much. His breathing became more relaxed. For a second, William was more relaxed too. That was, until the bright rings started coming back. The flashing lights kept coming and going, almost like Phantom was subconsciously fighting it. The boy started tossing and turning before resigning back into resting on the couch. When the strange rings came again, he did not fight it.

   William looked down at where Phantom once was laying to see the bruised face of his student. Danny Fenton was curled up in the teacher's lounge. Danny Fenton was Phantom.

   William’s mind reeled with the new information. His student, the recluse, was going out there to save everyone. His student was sacrificing his academic career to fight ghosts.

….Dante's Divine Comedy…

His student was dead. 

   Lancer went and checked for a pulse. His heart was beating? But he's a ghost? How was this possible? William is not an expert in science, but what he does know is that his student needs his help. The teacher continued to slowly give the boy more water and monitor him.

  Danny eventually began to stir. The boy's bright blue eyes whipped open and looked around. William’s brows were knit with concern.

   The boy looked at his arm that was dropping off the couch. It was probably at that moment he realized he was no longer Phantom. Danny shot up before wincing in pain. Lancer leaned forward in case he had to catch him again. Thankfully, Danny stayed upright.

   “I, uh, found some thread to patch you up in my classroom,” William said to try and break the silence. The boy looked frozen, terrified, but he managed to squeak out a small thank you.

  “Daniel-Danny,” the boy stiffened even more, “are you doing okay?”

   The boy sat there as his mind processed the question. Tears started to form in Danny's eyes. Finally, the boy began to sob, wincing at every hick-up. Lancer heart filled with grief for this boy. He was too young for all this. The teacher grabbed the box of tissues and passed them to Danny.

   For a while, the room was quiet with nothing but the sobs of the teenaged boy. Every once and a while, Danny would blow his nose, but he didn't speak for twenty minutes or so.

  Finally the boy took a deep breath and started pouring out words. His tale was full of loss and sorry. He lost his friendships, he lost his grades, and his parents are hunting him. Granted they didn't know he was Phantom, but he's scared to tell anyone for fear of their life and his own. He spoke of the disappointment he became. Jasmine, his sister, had even given up trying to reach him. His broken paragraphs sang a song of ruin.

   Once he was done, Lancer placed his hand on his student's shoulder for reassurance. Danny met his teacher's gaze before lurching into a hug. Lancer felt the boy's heaving breaths under his arms.

  “It's going to be okay, Daniel, you won't have to be alone anymore.”

   After that day, things were looking better for Danny. Now he had someone to cover for him and help him with schooling. Jazz has even commented on the sudden change in behavior. Danny was still hesitant to have Lancer help with any injuries he might have, but the teacher has become somewhat of a mother hen, always checking in on him after each ghost attack. 

   William was proud of his student. Young Daniel's grades were starting to improve, and so were his friendships. Danny had plans to go to the arcade with Samantha and Tucker over the weekend. Overall, things were looking better for the boy, and Lancer was glad to help.

[waugh-bao]

Charlie on meeting Keith (and the rest of the early Stones):

“The Stones themselves didn't seem to make much impression on Charlie in the very early days: 'I used to play with loads of bands, and the Stones were just another one. I thought they'd last three months, then a year, then three years, then I stopped counting.’”-The Guardian, 2000

Keith on meeting Charlie:

"Alexis Korner's Blues Incorporated, which...had the young Charlie Watts on drums and sometimes lan Stewart on piano. That's where I fell in love with the men!”-Life, 2010

Patti on meeting Keith:

“When I first met Keith all I could think was: This is a guy who really needs a friend. I gave him the keys to my apartment after only knowing him two weeks. There was no sexual thing going on. I knew he just needed a secret place where he could get far away from the madding crowed. It wasn't love at first sight, though it feels like that now.”-2010

Keith on meeting Patti:

“So I caught sight of Patti again, and she caught sight of me catching sight of her. And she left. And a few days later I called her and we got together. I wrote in my notebook in January 1980, a few days after that:

‘Incredibly I've found a woman. A miracle! I've pussy at the snap of a finger but I've met a woman! Unbelievably she is the most beautiful (physically) specimen in the WORLD. But that ain't it! It certainly helps but it's her mind, her joy of life and (wonders) she thinks this battered junkie is the guy she loves. I'm over the moon and peeing in my pants. She loves soul music and reggae, in fact everything. I make her tapes of music which is almost as good as being with her. I send them like love letters. I’m kicking 40 and besotted.’

Patti and I were always going to be together.”-Life, 2010

[tmasexymanpoll]

Graham Folger- funky man from across the street ate his notebook paper got not-themed

Danny Stoker- younger brother of tim stoker adrenaline junkie got taken by the stranger

[redhead-batgal]

Hi I new to requesting but I was wondering if you could do a shy!reader x Damian or Jason?? Sorry if you wanted more

Type: One-Shot

Pairing: Crime Junkie! and Shy! Reader x Jason Todd/Red Hood

Content: Crime... obviously 😂, violence, cursing, anxiety thoughts, kind of stuttering and repeating words, quiet and shy reader, lowkey impulse control, and protective friend mode.

Word Count: 3, 872

P.S: This isn't entirely a shy read but like, the crime junkie! reader was calling to me, I'm sorry but not entirely 😅

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Crime wasn't just murder; it wasn't just blood spilling in rages and bodies buried under may feet of earth. Crime was more then bullets in brains and poison racing towards beating hearts.

It was more then darkened alleyways in which life is stolen and corpses remain. Crime was passion and theft. It was the shattering of rules and shifting of morals.

Crime was more then murder and unfortunately you were completely and totally captivated by it.

It had been nearly seven years since you became somewhat obsessed with crime. Fictional crime, true crime, white collar crimes, blue collar, drug crimes, homicides- everything and anything involving crime interested you.

It over came your life, lapping into your vocabulary, what you ate and bought even into how you decorate your room as a child. So, when you moved into an apartment and your parents moved to Metropolis, you were free to let the full furry of your obsession escape.

It covered your walls in maps and shining pins, your ceilings in newspaper clippings and stained reports thrown out, your floor in pieces of shredded files pieced together and held by really shitty tape.

Your bed was stained with splotches of mystery substances you ate in the oddest hours that not even the deepest wash could remove. Pillows littered among notebooks and pencils, sheets smeared with lead and ink from the many notes you wrote in your notebooks. On your very tiny and worn nightstand your phone and the radio you snagged from an open cop car sat, side by side almost inseparable.

At first your obsession was cute, at least that's what all the people who saw it told you. It was adorable how into crime you were, how many podcasts you were listening too and how much information you knew. But the longer it lasted and the more into it you got the quicker the "cute" faded.

It appeared the only person in your current circle not weirded out by it was your roommate and best friend. She found it quirky, then again, she found most things you did quirky, like the way you talked and walked. How certain sounds, colors and textures you couldn't stand because it bothered you... in a sensory way.

She claimed you were just quirky, and that people should get used to it. part of you assumed her tolerance had more to do with her oncoming psychology degree then her actually finding you quirky. She probably thought you'd be a good case study. Anyone would after all you were insane.

Crazy

Weird

A Psycho

No better then the loons who run around at night.

You were used to people telling you what you were, use to people believing your silence as a deadly attribute. An unusual one. You didn't understand though, wasn't Batman, a revered person known for being quiet?

Was it because you weren't him or because you were young? Was it because you had strange obsessions and hobbies that led people to question whether you were even human at times? You didn't know but your mind loved to race for questions, for answers and to send comments shuttering down your spine.

Were they all right?

Were you a psycho, a loon?

A rogue in the making?

Were you dangerous?

Do you really think that anyone actually likes you?

They're just pretending after all, they pitied you. You were weird and strange and made people uncomfortable by existing. You couldn't even do the thing you loved the most, the thing you were so obsessed with... so what was the point?

Thoughts and episodes with much harsher thoughts and frantic observations overcame you at random moments, In the middle of work, at night in bed, during meals. Even when you were investigating cases. Even at the most inconvenient of times... like when your roommate, Cress, had brought her most recent boyfriend home.

"Y/n," She had said with a smile gesturing towards the guy next to her, "This is Kyle the guy I've been telling you about."

You looked up from the book in your grasps, you would occasionally read non-crime novels... only ones, however, suggested to you by a close friend or family member.

You were on the couch, far enough away to see the way Kyle loomed over Cress, eyes dancing as the words pressed into your mind and you remembered something.

"Kyle... kyle.. kyle pryiton?" You muttered under your breath.

Cress blinked, a tight smile on her face as she stepped forwards Kyle staring at you, tilting his head as you avoided eye contact.

"What was that Y/N?"

"he-Hes-... He's Kyle-Kyle Pryiton. r-right?"

Cress froze for a moment her eyes widening and Kyle flinched eyes narrowing as he glared at you. You don't know why, maybe it was because of what you knew but it must have been he assumed something.

"Y/n what the hell are you talking about?"

You blinked, looking up at Cress's nose, you couldn't look her in the eyes. No, no you didn't like eyes, they could notice boogers and lettuce stuck between teeth. Tears and reddened cheek. They could notice weird freckles and oddly shaped limbs. You didn't like eyes, no no nope. No eyes no.

"He-he. He's Kyle Pryiton... he no- no no. Don't don't trust. Nodon'ttrust. No trusting, not trustworthy. Bad-bad prytion bad kyle no trust. Nobadbadbadbad."

Your hands fidgeted, the book now against your lap as you shook your head muttering bad under your breath again and again and again.

Kyle let out a curse of sorts before he and Cress suddenly began arguing. You were used to tuning things out, so you looked away, at the window where the lights shined and flickered and shadowed figures leaped.

"They're a psycho!" Kyle yelled and you blinked.

Cress was going to agree, she was going to say he was right and leave. Just like everyone else, why couldn't you have kept quiet? Maybe your suspicion was wrong, he might be an okay guy.

But-but Cress... she would have gotten hurt. You could have prevented it; no no. Cress would be safe-safe. She trusted you and your word.

The door slammed and you blinked to see Cress's face red, wet with tears and she let out soft huffs. Upset, she was very upset... you didn't like it when people got upset, it was your fault, always your fault.

Why couldn't you just shut up, shut up shut up!

"Y/n, what were you thinking?"

You blinked looking to Cress whose eyes were wide in confusion.

"Bad... he's bad. I don't like him; I don't trust him."

Cres sighed shaking her head at your response and she moved towards you her brow furrowed.

"Why? Why? What did he do?"

You fidgeted, Cress was at your feet and close, too close. You didn't like that close. No, no and and why? Why? Because of your case! He was involved in the case, you were sure of it!

"He's involved in my case-"

Cress let out a sigh and you could hear the sound of tears beginning to build up in her throat.

"Case? Your case? Are you serious Y/n?"

You nodded sitting up straight and Cress turned away from you.

"Yes! He's-he's not a good guy. He's tied up in this crime-"

"Are you kidding me Y/n? God, I've gotten so sick of this! You aren't an actual detective! You haven't solved any crimes. Hell, you are just a coward! You haven't even done anything other then speculate about these cases. How would you know anything about anyone? You are a coward and-and- ugh. You ruin everything!" Cress bellows tears spilling down her face.

You flinch feeling something building up in your throat as Cress shrieked, she turned shaking her head and cursing under her breath as she dashed out the door. You swallowed feeling something in you crack.

Coward

Coward

Coward.

You weren't a coward though... right? No, you had gone out to investigate, it was just when Cress was out partying, you had gone out and-and-and you were going to again!

Standing up feeling your hands shaking and something warm spilling down your cheeks your walked towards your room. Your hands bounced and swung, and you began to stim.

Gathering your supplies, you filled your large jacket pockets with a taser, water, mini notebook, pencil and your phone. Finally grabbing onto your police radio, you clipped it to the inside of your shirt and yanked your jacket on.

Walking towards the door you grabbed a water bottle and left, locking the door behind you. Walking out of the apartment you began your trek down the sidewalks towards crime alley.

You knew something was going to go down out there, more specifically Kyle Pryiton was going to be tied to a crime. because the group he ran with, the criminals and gang members were planning a robbery. You had heard whispers on the streets and small crimes of theft for equipment that could help with this final heist of sorts.

The radio on the inside of your shirt crackled and hissed and you dipped your head down pressing it against your collar hearing the quiet report of a junkie found in an alleyway, half-dead and in need of medical attention.

Reports like these were common, you were used to it. So, you pulled away from your collar and felt your hands buzzing and stimming as they fluttered and bounced along with your legs. Walking you'd been walking for a while right?

"The-the warehouse then to the club. Drugs, booze and money money. yes, yes yes. This-this makes sense sense... sense." You muttered nodding.

"Bad guy, bad guy., He's bad bad bad. You'll... you'll see see Cress. He's bad, bad bad."

Continuing down the street you thought for a moment. It was cold, and quiet. The streets not even having the sound of wind rattling trash cans or shutters. Something seemed off.

You paused just for a moment looking around slightly and not seeing anyone. Hmm, strange, very strange. Strange, strange. Maybe it was the hour of night... well morning, but you doubted it.

For a moment you heard the sound of footsteps, and you looked up finding a man in front of you. oh...ohohohohoh oh OH. It was a vigilante, not just any vigilante, it was Red Hood.

it was just your luck to run into Red Hood, just your luck that you were now stopped by a vigilante.

"Hi," he remarked, and you looked up at him feeling something swirling in your stomach.

No- no eyes, no real tone due to voice modification.... hmmmmmmmmmm. You didn't know if this was a good thing or not. But still being near another person-a stranger at that made your skin begin to crawl. You didn't know him and felt your heart begin to beat faster and faster.

Should you reply? Or ignore him? You didn't know but you didn't want to talk to him, no no talking never ended well and and... weren't you busy? What had you been doing again? Hmm outside, with your jacket and-and your radio... then what were you doing? You probably had been investigating, but what?

"You alright?"

You blinked a few times seeing Red Hood taking a step closer to you. You stepped back you froze.

"Ff-fi-fine...i-i... I'm F-fine."

You hated how your voice would shutter and stop almost stuttering when you spoke to strangers. Hated how your voice dipped and went quiet all because your nerves spun and raced in your chest.

Red Hood didn't reply, and you heard the crackle of your radio again. Blinking you didn't move. He looked at and you narrowed your eyes. Did he think you were going to ignore him? No, no he was too close to close for you to ignore him.

"What are you doing out here?"

Why did- oh yeahyeahyeah. Vigilante, he had come a long way and was now with Batman again. No killing and helping out with his investigations. Red Hood is probably just worried about a civilian or possible criminal out on the streets.

"I-innn... inves-investigaat-ting. C-" You stopped closing your eyes it didn't matter, investigating was enough to tell him what you were doing.

"Investigating? What exactly are you investigating?"

You blinked looking at Red Hood, you weren't a criminal. You needed him to understand this, maybe then he'd leave you alone.

"I'm-m I'm not not not a cri-criminal criminal."

"You've never committed a crime?"

You blinked feeling your cheeks flush as the radio pressed against your skin nearly burning it as the memory of you taking it flashed before your eyes.

"What'd you do?"

Lying wouldn't be good, plus if you're honest you might get away fine. After all Red Hood had definitely done worse things.

"Sto-stole stole stole."

A laugh of sorts escaped Red Hood and you looked at him tilting your head. He nodded before asking,

"What did ya steal?"

Your fingers moved before your mind could catch up, pulling the radio from your shirt you held it up. Red Hood laughed and took a step back.

"You snatched a cop radio?"

Slipping the radio back onto your shirt you replied, "Yup,yup,yup. Got it rig-right from from their car car car."

"Damn, nice job. So, why'd you take it?"

"Crime... I" You let out a breath thinking for a half a second that it was nice to have someone to want to hear you talk, "I w-want to sol-solve crimes crimes crimes."

"Hmmm, interesting. So, you on a case right now?"

"Yup-yup...." You replied trying so hard to resist the urge to say the final yup, but unfortunately it won out, "yup. Damn it."

"What case? Murder? Assault? Drug trade?"

"Theft or rob-robbery. Gan-gang robberies robberies robberies."

Red Hood paused and you could have sworn he was giving you a strange look.

"Gang robberies?" He asked.

You nodded feeling your hands beginning to fidget and heart beating faster and faster.

"Multiple reports port ports... on gang initiations. People people people see-seeing members sc-scoping out out out a-a club."

Silence followed and you picked at your fingers, you couldn't stim, not right now when you were in front of someone. It wouldn't end well; you could barely stim in front of Cress... Cress. Oh oh!

"I have have-have to go."

Red Hood tilted his head and shrugged. You gave him a wary look and he froze, and you faintly heard a voice almost. It must be the comms for communication between the vigilantes. Maybe now was your chance to walk away.

You took a step back when Red Hood held up a hand. You paused for a moment and Red Hood reached towards his helmet slowly pulling it off.

"Yeah, yeah Oracle. I know, just give me a second."

Walking towards you, Red Hood holds up his helmet and you flinched slightly. He paused before tossing it towards you.

"Hold this for a second sweetheart."

You instantly caught it blinking to finally notice the black eye mask much like Red Robin's, Robin's and Nightwing's, on Red Hood's face.

Heat flushed your cheeks as your mind shrieked. He was attractive, fucking shit. Short dark hair with a white streak near the front, sharp and chiseled jaw lined with faint scars.

It doesn't matter you tried to tell yourself, it doesn't matter he is a vigilante and being nice because he cares about Gotham and its people.

You blinked noticing him press a hand to his head, drawing attention to scars at the edge of his hairline. You felt yourself watching his face contort as he spoke to the other vigilantes quietly.

Well, he's busy now, might as well inspect his helmet. Looking down at your hands you slowly raised the helmet towards your head and just to your luck he turned away from you. Sliding the helmet onto your head you blinked to find your vision filled with a screen.

It scanned Red Hood who was in front of you, and you watched a bar began to appear with the word loading spinning around. Turning away from him, the screen shifted to show the street, the loading a tiny icon in the corner. Suddenly bolded text appeared on the screen

Current Location: 3rd street, East Side Gotham

Active crime in process two blocks away, starting route to location...

"Woah," You whispered as you raised a hand and the letters disappeared to show a line, more then likely guiding you to the crime in progress.

A map suddenly appeared covering the whole screen and you paused scanning it to see it was a map of Gotham. A blinking dot showed your location just south of crime alley. A thin line, flashing directed you towards a star and you raised your hands once again waving them in hopes to move around on the map.

Unfortunately, nothing happened. However, as you moved the dot moved as well. Waving your hands, you began to walk forwards feeling a bit of glee race over you.

Giggling slightly, you moved forwards, only to hear Red Hood's voice get clearer.

"i know, I know. Listen I don't have time for this..."

His voice trailed off and you walked forwards some more, something warm getting closer to your outstretched hands. Suddenly you heard Red Hood's voice clearly. However, the loading circle in the corner stopped and texted flashed across the screen.

Scan complete....

Results loading

"What-? I'll see you at the cave old man... I have something to take care of calm down. Bye."

There was some shuffling, and someone was pulling the helmet off of your head, just as the results were about to appear on the screen. You blinked seeing a somewhat surprised and amused Red Hood right in front of you.

"Hi." He remarked a smile on his face.

Heat flushed your cheeks and you ducked, yanking your head fully out of the helmet muttering,

"... oh, hi hi hi, sorry sorry sorry."

Just what were you thinking? You were so dead, dead dead. Very dead. How could you be so stupid?

Instead of shooting you on the spot like you thought he would, Red Hood chuckled and looked you over. Tucking his helmet under his arm he hummed slightly.

"What's your name kid?"

"I'm not-not a kid."

He blinked and looked you over once more. You swallowed, feeling the urge you wrap yourself into your jacket and hide. Like a turtle, a snapping turtle. You liked snapping turtles; they were smart and safe. And currently you didn't feel like either of those.

"Okay... come on, I'll take you home."

Red Hood began to walk the way you came, and you narrowed your eyes.

"Why?"

He hesitated for a moment before shrugging, "For a pretty kid like you, it's dangerous at night."

You froze and the words slipped off your tongue clearly and quickly, the first time at all tonight anything was clear from your mouth, "I'm not pretty."

His head snapped towards you, and you froze. His face was twisted in an angry kind of way, and you swallowed.

"What?"

"I'm weird and and and creepy and a psycho and and a coward." You whispered, "I-i can't be-be all those things and and and be pretty. I can't can't can't."

He paused with a sigh before running a hand through his hair and shrugging. Shooting you a quick look he shrugged, "Okay, I'll take you home because... I'm curious. Curious...about how dedicated you are to investigating."

You narrowed your eyes and looked down at the helmet in your hands.

He's a vigilante, he is talking with you even though he could have left. Clearly you don't scare him or weird him out. It won't hurt for him to walk you back. After all,... blinking you looked at your watch, it was almost six am, Cress will be worried. Were you really out here for almost four hours? No, no it was more then that. it was almost midnight when you left, then you walked around for a while till, till now. Six hours, six hours you were out. How did time fly by so quickly?

"Okay."

Red Hood blinked and you tilted your head, he nodded before you turned and began walking home.

"So, you gonna tell me your name."

Conversation, he wanted to have conversation. But why? You were weird, even too weird for vigilantes. However, talking to someone who didn't treat you like a freak was too good of a thing to pass up.

"...A nam-e." You muttered feeling your stomach flutter and swirl.

He let out a huh of sorts and you took in a breath, you could do this.

" A-a name for for for a name."

He laughed at your comment and shook his head. "We both know i can't do that."

"Nick-nickname then."

You watched as an eyebrow rose on his face and he shrugged with a smile of sorts on his face.

"Negotiating? Alright. Nickname, Hood."

You narrowed your eyes and he looked to you waiting for you to say yours and you turned away from him remarking, "Psycho."

"That doesn't count."

"Nei-neither does hood hood hood."

Snorting some more Red Hood nodded with a smile across his face. He shrugged and you noted how he looked you over out of the corner of his eye.

"Oof Sweetheart, you got me there."

Walking down a street you noticed the lights on in your apartment and you stopped. Red Hood stopped with you, and you looked to the building before back at home.

Pointing at the lit room you turned towards him, "That-that's mi-mine."

He pressed a few buttons on the helmet before looking up at your apartment and his brow furrowed.

"You left the light on?"

"No-no. My r-roo-room-ma-mate. Roommate."

He nodded then began passing his helmet in-between his hands watching you, "you have a roommate?'

"Yup, yup, yup. Worried... worried. She-she's pr-probably worried... or-or not. She-she was m-mad."

Red Hood passed his helmet to his left hand before pausing. You turned towards him, and he remarked, "Catch."

Suddenly helmet was in the air and bouncing against your chest. Your hands darted out capturing it before it fell towards the ground. You looked at it then back at him your eyebrows raised.

"Wha-what?"

"Keep it. You seem to like it more then I do."

You gave him a confused look and turned the helmet over in your hands. He smiled slightly before shrugging as you shot him another look.

"Who knows, I might need your help sometime."

Heat flushed your cheeks, and you looked up at him smiling ever so slightly. He might need your help?

"T-Thank you." You muttered hugging the helmet to your chest.

Rubbing the back of his neck suddenly, Red Hood cleared his throat before stepping back.

"Alright I gotta get going. See ya later sweetheart."

"Bye," You remarked, and he turned and bounded away into the darkness.

Smiling with Red Hood's helmet pressed against your chest you turned towards your apartment.

A vigilante might need your help... maybe you were useless or a cowards like Cress thought. You weren't hollow, but full of use. It felt weird, but nice. To not be hollow.

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