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@vampiresforvoni
I’m ready to spend the rest of my life creating

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Rodrick Heffley - A 101 Guide on Summer
Chapter 2 ppl 😝😝 kindaaa rushed this one a teeny bit but I hope you lot love it just the same!
my wattpad here ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ
Ch.2 - No room(s) for disappointment
Back in her room, y/n is carefully plopped on her bed with full attentiveness to the theatrical scene standing before her. Rodrick is walking circles around her room as he fills the silence with his blabbering - he has so many ideas, you’d think he’s a director for an upcoming blockbuster-level movie. Maybe it’s to ignore the very real truth that she now has Rodrick in her bedroom - for reasons she only has herself to blame - she holds herself extremely focused, having a notebook in one hand and a half-sharpened pencil in another. She flicks and closes pages - focusing on filling them with elaborate notes in mere seconds. For the past 30 minutes, y/n had it set to help Rodrick in any way he seems fit, but she’s starting to realise that he may fail in comprehending what’s ‘fit’ for this situation.
“...Oh, oh! And I want a sorta cgi explosion in the background? But maybe we should make it real!” Eyerolling the nonsensical suggestions imposed before her, she lays her pencil slowly on her bed - let’s wrap this up. “Do we go with fireworks… or cgi…”
Interrupting him, y/n chimes in with ideas of her own, ideas that are less…nonsensical and outlandish.
“How about a Molotov Cocktail…with fireworks…”
“How about a Classic Rock sound, instead? Or Midwest Emo? I have a few references in my playlist. Oh, I can try backing vocals, too!” Rodrick, plastering on another one of his usual smuggish, brazen expressions, attempts to rebuttal her point. “y/n, we can’t do something boring like that, not now! We really need that $75, you know.”
“Is that all you want from this competition?”
“No! Of course no, my band really needs this exposure. And the $75..”
Eyerolling harder than the last, y/n flings her notebook over her shoulder, stands up, dusts herself off, and struts to her laptop which is neatly placed on her front desk. Now sitting on her deskchair, with one leg folded for comfortability, she looks back at Rodrick to signal him closer in joining her on the laptop. He swiftly stands right before her, having the spacious inches snipped off between them. He inches his chin closer to her left shoulder in genuine curiosity on what she wants to show him. y/n now being hyperaware of the lack of space between them, diverts her full attention to the laptop in an attempt to distract herself.
…
“You sing???”
y/n shuts her laptop swiftly after showing him some of her own homemade music videos online.
“I thought you’d know by now! And I asked if I could try backing vocals.” When she showed him her youtube video, he had instantly noticed the 100k views and 9k likes - the type of exposure he could only dream of. And that voice. Her voice had made a clear inscription on his mind. Feeling the freshly lit rivalry brewing between them (mostly being one-sided) he attempts his breakaway. Glancing at his phone, he notices the time, “it’s…four? Yeah I um, need to go..babysit…manny…” He grabs his bag roughly and heads for the door. “Oh, don’t forget!” Rodrick, looking back, gets hit in the forehead with an indistinguishable block, sorta shaped like a cassette. It is a cassette. It’s simply labelled as ‘Playlist’, with the label clearly aged. Looking up in confusion, y/n clarifies “The playlist, remember? For reference.”
“Oh. Right!…bye!” He leaves immediately, almost dropping the cassette during the skate ride home.
Back home, he rushes past his family members, claiming he has summer homework. A few seconds later he rushes back downstairs, kicks Greg in the shins, and rushes upstairs again.
“Someone’s gotta do something about that boy.” Frank suggests.
“Yeah, somebody.” Susan chimes.
Greg looks at both of them with bewilderment.
Now seated on his bed, having his laptop on his lap, he ventures to y/n’s youtube channel, investigating just how much exposure her videos have. 45 minutes later, he’s still investigating, but not for this initial reason. Her voice had interlinked with his inner monologue. He’s seen 4 of her videos on repeat, but the first video he saw back at her house draws him in again, each time. He hits the download button.
“Her pitch is perfect…” Rodrick doesn’t know if it’s enmity or admiration, but the sudden urge to jump right into his summer project had boiled into manifestation.
He suddenly felt compelled to ask her for more help, but didn’t want to submit to their mini-rivalry. Deciding he won’t need her help after all, he looks to his side, eyeing the cassette tape. Grabbing it, he tosses it in his backpack, and zips it quickly - leading to getting the zipper stuck, and a piece of the cassette still poking out. He’ll do this the Lødeddipper way, and Lødeddipper way only.
Flash-forward the next day: Ward, Drew, and Rodrick are in his garage, having various equipment and ‘decorations’ dispersed around. One flimsy ringlight stands alone in the corner of the room, with various string lights scattered. A piñata dangles from the ceiling. A disposable camera is placed right behind the garage door. Both Ward and Drew are slightly confused with the immediate setup, but don't question it. It’s Rodrick. He insists that this elaborate song he made overnight is their ‘free ticket to Hollywood’. Both shrugging in confusion, they get their instruments ready. Rodrick hops on his drumkit, placed in the middle of the garage, he looks at the camera with dollar signs in his eyes.
For the next three weeks, they spent making numerous retakes on their music video, having never surpassed the introduction. Every shot taken, something would go wrong. One attempt had one of the stringlights burst in flames. Rodrick debated keeping that one in. In another attempt, Drew accidently stepped on the garage remote, almost crushing the Camera. At one point, Rodrick raised his drumsticks too high and burst the piñata. They ended with lunch break that day.
“At this point, we might wanna upload these clips as our talent instead, bro.” Drew says as he packs up.
“Yeah, I don’t think anyone can beat a record as bad as this.” Ward comments.
“What? No, we still have…” with swiftness, Rodrick checks his phone for the date.
“One week…” They’d spent so much time on the introduction alone, they hadn’t even realised they spent most of their submission time on sweeping candy wrappers from the ground. In defeat, Rodrick quickly concludes practice for the day - with no progress made. Stomping to his bedroom, he leans against the wall, having one hand dragging on his neck, with the other loosely clinging onto his cellphone.
Scrolling mindlessly on his phone for minutes, he comes closer to the realisation he might have to sit this competition out, and that he just cost his band the exposure that they needed. And $75.
At 11pm, he’s still scrolling through his phone, until he finds himself craving snacks. Getting up, he grudgingly attempts to leave his room - until he trips over an object. Annoyed, he uses his phone flashlight to investigate what he tripped over. His bag, with y/n’s cassette tape still poking out, was laid in the middle of his room floor. So much for cleaning up after himself. Staring at the cassette, he looks back at his phone screen, more specifically the messenger app. Contemplating for a few seconds, he finally gives in with a heavy sigh, texting y/n about those backing vocals.
…
The smell of freshly made pancakes linger around, with a mopey Rodrick sitting on a kitchen counter - y/n invited him over the next day to talk about his progress with the submission. His damp hair covers his groggy eyes and overly tired expression, he’s not a morning person. Y/n hands him a glass of orange juice, which he chugs down in an instant.
“So I’m hearing that not only did you not listen to the cassette for references, but you spent the last three weeks with no progress? None at all?”
“I did try… I dunno, I guess I had all these ideas and they just didn’t translate well with my budget. Hence why we need that $75”
“Will you shut up about that $75??”
With a momentary silence in the air, the both eventually burst into laughter - this project had been taken so seriously by Rodrick, even though his motives were just as unserious. Y/n picks up Rodrick’s glass of orange juice, takes a sip, and sits on the counter right beside him.
“How about we use these next five days doing this thing the normal way?”
“Aye, captain.”
It’s September, the new school year of Crossland High begins and the first area Rodrick is spotted in, for the first time in history, is the library with Drew. Rodrick’s got both palms covering his eyes in fear, as Drew checks the school website using the library computers.
“Dude…”
“If we didn’t place, just say that and quit scaring me!”
“Why don’t you look for yourself”
As Rodrick forces his hands away from his eyes, he’s met with a pleasant surprise of being joint first, along with a dance group in 8th grade.
“We…we won? We won!” Both Drew and Rodrick burst into cheer, with their celebration being cut short by the library teacher. Drew and Rodrick resolve to a quieter, but equally joyful, celebration. As they’re celebrating, he receives a notification - checking it cheerfully, it reads…
[ Make sure I get that 30% cut ( ̄▽ ̄) ] - y/n
Rodrick grins ear to ear, which are now blushing slightly red.
Now heading to class, Rodrick puts his headphones on, and plays some of the music he downloaded on his phone. This playlist specifically includes a bunch of songs curated from y/n’s cassette tape blasted to full volume, the first track being from a certain youtube video…
[ “So I was thinking about a 40% cut?” ]
[seen]
[ “Bro answer my text.” ]
Rodrick Heffley - A 101 Guide on Summer
Will be posting more of this on my wattpad @/Vampires4voni !!
Here's chapter one :P
Ch.1 - sticks 'n stones! (and trash lids)
This is it. This is the day. June 15th. Ice-cream's dripping, sunhats tipping, and children kicking. Nothing within a 5 mile radius from Crossland High School could survive the perpetual heat that protrudes from the continuous clash of sneakers and repetitive cries of supply teachers. It's 11:55 am - 5 minutes left until the last bell rings throughout the dimmed-light halls, and 5 minutes left until shouted oaths of freedom emerge in victory over defeated teachers. Over in Room 2A, English class, Rodrick Heffley can be seen lounged over a rigid desk. Nothing about him screams 'focused' - nothing except from his eyes, which are fixated onto the clock with sheer determination. The teacher's words are ambience noise to him, they become harmonious with the pen clickings and foot tapping that's heard in other corners of the room. Four minutes left. A student, two seats behind Rodrick, raises their hand with anticipation drenched in their brow. The teacher calls on them.
"Can I go to the bathroom? I'm not feeling well." The sweat-browed student requests whilst wiping their forehead with their oversized sleeves. The teacher opens their mouth, pauses to squint at the clock, and responds to the student - who is now in a pool of sweat. "no, Archie." Groans and 'tsks' arise within the classroom and are soon rivalled with Mr. Den's rebuttal. "Class ends in 3 minutes. I don't want any further interruption nor distraction! I know your tactics, everyone!" Of course, Rodrick takes no notice of this attempt of escape. How could he care to? He's too fixated on the salvation the clock will bring to him in 2 minutes time.
2 minutes.
Rodrick's hypnotisation snaps at the sudden request from the front of the class. A devious grin is plastered against Mr Den's face, paired with eyes that scream 'I'm going to ruin your life'. Rodrick recognises this look and is soon haunted with the realisation that he just might not escape today's torture of Crossland High. There's one minute left. One measly minute.
"Of course, I'm sure your devoted attention to my class will pay off nicely when you answer this last question?"
"Sh*t." spurs in pairs in Rodrick's head. He in fact had not devoted his attention to Mr Den's classroom that hour. Nor the previous day, or the whole year for that matter. "...Ok?"
With three light taps to the green-tinted chalk-board, a famous quote from classical literature is circled heavily in white chalk. "Fair is foul and foul is fair." Mr Den's eyes do not leave Rodrick's - this ensures his doom.
"This is very simple, Rodrick. I'm being nice." Mr Den says. Rodrick responds with "...Uh huh." His eyes pan quickly to the clock - 30 seconds left.
"What play is this quote from?" Mr Den asks, this time there's no hint of mischief in his voice. Rodrick scratches his head. "The hell, how am I supposed to know that?" he questions himself. Followed by a response of snickering from other classmates - Mr Den takes a deep breath with resolve to encourage him. "We looked at the book today. Actually, we looked at it for the past 2 weeks. You know this." Rodrick scans the board, letter for letter, hoping to decipher secret prophecies between the lines that may reveal the answer to Mr Den's ridiculous riddle. Mr Den resorts to anger. "You will not be leaving anytime soon if you cannot answer this question!" 10 seconds left. Everyone's looking at Rodrick, and Rodrick's now wishing he was the clock himself. 5 seconds left. "Rodrick!" Mr Den shouts, "Stay behi-"
"Cinderella!" Rodrick shouts back, shoving books in his bag and running out the door with the other students. It's 12pm. School's out. All that's left is a classroom of papers and Mr Den, astonished at the levels of stupidity that could be attained in humanity.
. . .
Back at home, Rodrick swings his backpack on the front door, with a complete disregard for the hat stand and an elaborate coat rack Mrs Heffley setup for this exact reason. He walks past the kitchen, up to his bedroom without failing to kick Greg Heffley in the shins (purposely) whilst doing so. He slumps to his bed in satisfaction. "Finally." he mumbles to himself whilst closing his eyes in submission to the 8 weeks of relaxation Summer break is obliged to bring him. 8 weeks. "Eight...." Rodrick rolls out of the bed and onto the floor in his newfound boredom. He hadn't really processed the longevity of eight whole weeks with no plans. He checks his cellphone for any news, anything he can make plans out of. Dry. He drags himself to his computer, hoping that meaningless entertainment can carry him through the summer.
30 minutes later of aimless scrolling, Rodrick was about to lose his mind until he received a notification from Drew. Drew is the person he'd stick with since middle school; both band-geeks, both edgy. With his overly-combed ginger hair, oversized band t-shirt and big-rimmed glasses makes him look like a feeble suburban kid; very different from Rodrick's untamed hair, huge eyebags and unrefined, mischievous grin. The text read:
"Yo. Check School website page. Biggggg opportunity ;)"
Rodrick squints back at the text with confusion. Usually, he'd ignore any text from Drew regarding school, and so he did. Not. Obviously, he immediately went to investigate the website. Anything at this point was a necessity in battling this boredom.
*"Dear ALL students of Crossland High School!
Summer break's out! Congratulations all for smashing the year with your hard work!
You all are very swag!"*
Rodrick cringes slightly at the poor school's bad attempt of sounding like a teenager.
*"To start off the very epic break with a BANG, the school would like to give you the OPPORTUNITY to showcase your creativity! That's right - the theme for the summer is CREATIVITY!"*
Rodrick's interests have peaked.
*"In four weeks today, your goal is to submit a picture or video representing how you centre your creativity! The creative admissions board will be AWARDING the best three applicants with a $75 Amazon gift voucher and a two-week long dedicated promotion on the Crossland school website page."*
Rodrick thought his interest peaked before, but this is a new level.
Instantly, he called Drew up. No time to waste.
"Hey, no time to mess about. This isn't just an opportunity, this is a game changer."
"Uh, duh! That's why I sent the link. We have like four weeks tho, We'll be fine."
Rodrick thought about this for a second. There's eight weeks of summer break, yet submissions are in four weeks. They want people to waste away in the desperation of wanting to know who won! How cruel is that?
"Nah, everyone ELSE has four weeks. We have no time to waste - we NEED to win this."
"Bro, who else would win? Me, you and Ward. We're the best band out there!"
Ward's the Bass guitarist. He doesn't even go to Crossland High School, he joined the band when the three met at Middle school. Ward moved before freshman year, but not so far that they couldn't meet up once every couple of weeks. His dyed, buzz cut hair and deep-set eyes blocked by his vantablack shades make him out to be 'hardcore' - or so others would describe him as before getting to know him. In actuality, he's quite sweet.
Drew mentions that he'll call up Ward to confirm a date that he can visit, leaving Rodrick up to the brainstorming. Should they use one of their previous songs or step up their game and produce a new one just for this competition? As Rodrick resorts to heavy-thinking, he swiftly picks up his skateboard and heads out the door - of course, not without kicking his younger brother, Greg Heffley, in the shins.
Mid Skating, Rodrick's attentiveness towards brainstorming gets interrupted by a sudden notification, which doesn't fail to distract him - leading to him tripping over a bin lid! Ignoring his now-bleeding knee, he swiftly checks for the text, being from y/n.
"Hey. U seen the skl website? ;)"
Rodrick stares at the text for a few seconds. And then a for few more. His heeding brow transplants to a mischievous grin as he conjures a snarky reply.
"What talent wld U even show? 💀"
"Woww! You know how to spell talent?"
Sniggering at the reply, the dimly lit phone changes to a faint blue, as y/n requests to facetime him, startling Rodrick. He panicked, accidentally answering the call, only to be met with his bleeding cheek from the fall. He quickly redirects the camera to the blue sky - not a cloud in sight.
"...Why am I only seeing the sky...?"
"Uh, what?"
"The sky. Move your camera, I can't see you."
"What? I think we're breaking up? I... can't hear you!"
"Maybe seeing me will help? Look up, doofus."
Rodrick's avid dismissal and falsified obliviousness is met with an abrupt end to their phone call. Rodrick looks up slowly, to now also be met with a now-approaching y/n.
"Ohh..." y/n realises, as she assesses Rodrick's state.
"Don't say a word." Rodrick, embarrassed, diverts his eyes, accepting defeat to y/n, who is now laughing away. He didn't want to be seen like that. Not in front of her. She analyses his current state, teary eyed from her prolonged laughs, and grows slightly concerned for his bleeding knee and cheek. Offering a band aid, she kneels down.
"You know, from a few steps away, I couldn't tell if all that red stuff was you blushing or bleeding." y/n jokes lightly. Growing more flustered, Rodrick snatches the bandaid and slaps it on, but not before throwing a coughing fit upon hearing the word 'blushing' - he'd done that, too. Joining Rodrick, y/n sits on the pavement ground, looking ahead at the road. They're silent for some time.
"...You want help for the competition?"
"...yeah..."
A Visit To My Favourite Restaurant
My attempt at freestyling my writing (✿◡‿◡)
Themes: body insecurity, relationship, melancholy
I'm a beginner! Please be nice :)
─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───
I thought I’d lost the ability to cry by now.
A daunting feeling approached me, the grizzly bear of my dreams had been escaping hibernation; the encroaching growls were loud - very loud, but not quite like my tears hitting the dirt of my shoes. Sliding and cleansing, cleansing away the clarity of my thoughts. Nothing makes sense anymore.
“I..don’t like you like that, i guess.” The furrowing of my brows exposed my great confusion, unfortunately exposing a greater sense of reality. He caught this, I know, because his instant resolve to his ‘I’m sorry’s’ and ‘I didn’t mean to’s’ were his typical aim to feed away my sorrows, mend away the joke he made of me. The joke I am to be. His words were so filling, so overbearing; like a sack of rocks, he's dragging me down. I’m never famished, though. I’m always hungry. Always wanting more. I’m disgusted.
I part my lips to speak, maybe to spur something out that’ll make him pity me more. Gratify my underlying appetite. I’m always hungry.
“How much…”
“...Pardon?”
Forcing him glances, I notice the lack of palpability between us - our lost connection. There was no chef and guest, there was no bear and prey. There was no him and I. There was gluttony, however, filling the void between us. Desire, greed, an audacious tendency.
“…” I’m full of tears to the point that they're pouring out. Feeding on his attention, my appetite is fulfilled.
I’m full, full and still hungry.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming