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no-m4gic · 2 years ago

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Damn it Sitaya you do yandere Izzy now? That's it, I'm requesting. Yandere Izuru w/ prompt 26... preferably angst to fluff, but if you're tired you can just do fluff <33

p.s I think you know who I am devil emoji

i hate you so much for making me look for prompt 26 and 25.

also crane beloved, yes, i do yandere izuru. p.s c found this account before you how you like them apples /j

sorry if izuru is ooc, first time writing yandere izuru. THANKS A LOT, CRANE. /s

thank god i made an izuru header before you found me.

don't worry though, i had a lotta fun writing this, i put my writing ass into this.

warning ;; mm lime, mentions of like 'it' as a threat, sorta suggestive lines from izuru, french kissing and a shock collar and izuru feels lust for the first time ever. non-despair AU and izuru is hajime's twin.

prompt 26 ;; Control - “i’ll do whatever the fuck I want to you, got it?” prompt 25 ;; Collar - “don’t you dare take it off, I want everyone to know you’re mine.” prompt list ;; here!

~ mod sitaya

愛毒 // Yandere Izuru x GN S/O

it's only been a few days since you were captured... but it felt like years— decades— centuries— heck, eternities. there wasn't even a damn clock for you to stare at, keep yourself entertained with it. would he be mad for you paying too much attention to an inanimate object? yeah probably, honestly.

was escaping even an option? the thought of it wasn't even a possibility or plan, just a tease and a reminder that you can't even look out a window without your captor getting mad or upset... though he never ever expressed it, you only knew by the atmosphere dropping and his ruby eyes on you.

currently he was away... outside... doing god knows what. this would be the perfect chance to escape for any other yandere, but the windows, doors and yourself are uuh, chained up. however even if you weren't chained up on a bed, izuru would probably find you eventually, no matter where you run to. if you're in the same universe, you're his.

all you could really do was sit and wait for izuru to return. the least he could do was give you some sort of entertainment, jeez. selfish bastard. despite the windows being closed and locked tight, you felt as if the room's temperature started to drop. you curled yourself into a ball and tried not to think about anything, hoping you'd drift away from this reality for awhile... and even better, permanently.

it was only a few minutes before you concluded you couldn't fall asleep in this environment at this temperature in this situation. the only way you'd fall asleep was by taking some sleep pills or melatonin. maybe once izuru came back you could send him away again by asking him to buy some melatonin? that didn't sound bad at all.

you were awoken by a cold gust of wind as well as your hunger. you must've fallen asleep while plotting on how to get izuru to leave you alone for awhile more. you were still so deep in thought, you hadn't even noticed kamukura standing next to the bed with that same cold stare that he'd always given you when you weren't his hostage.

"what! stop staring at me- go look at the wall or something," you tried to sound intimidating, but ended up sounding like yourself, but more weak and pathetic. "s/o i can look at what's mine," he casually stated, setting down a box of takeout on the bed, "i got your favorite takeout, and since you have this sort of "performance anxiety", i'll leave you be to eat alone, i'll come back soon," and with that, he shut the door and locked it.

you mentally screamed at both yourself and at him out of rage. how dare you let him call you his? once you calmed down from your rage, you realized he actually unchained you. wow. you knew he didn't really want to tell you you were free, but you still felt extremely mad at him for not telling you.

due to your stubbornness, you refused to eat, but you also refused to push the food onto the ground... the food didn't deserve that death just because izuru bought and brought it to you. you were just looking at the food, imagining yourself watching akane eat a gourmet meal prepared by teruteru.

by now the food was probably freezing cold. it was also the time for izuru to return, back to torment you. "oh s/o, if you were claiming my predications were wrong and you weren't actually hungry, you could've told me instead of wasting a good meal," he sarcastically said, placing the box onto the bedside.

"what the fuck do you even want from me—? i don't even know you!" you spat, your anger and rage completely distracted you from your hunger and the freezing temperature biting your skin. "i only want you. i don't need or want anything you own." you cringed at that, but you didn't let that show, "

"s/o, i can do anything for you, sing you to sleep, feed you, bathe you, breed you till you can't walk or stand, give you all the affection you'll ever want and need, get you anything you want in the world, all just for you to submit to me," had his eyes gotten more passionate and brighter or was it just you slowly losing your sanity to them? you didn't know anymore. "i just want you to know as well, i’ll do whatever the fuck I want to you, got it?"

you were shocked at that last part, but chose to ignore it. big mistake. "but i don't want any of that—! i just want my freedom— move around and be with whoever i wish— not whate—" you were cut off by kamukura pulling you into a passionate kiss, shoving his tongue into your mouth even before you could react, it exploring and dominating your mouth with his saliva.

you tried to push away, meanwhile trying to imagine you were kissing your crush or someone else instead of this psychopath. he broke the kiss rather quickly, a string of saliva still connecting you two. you shook your head violently and wiped it away.

"what the fuck was that?!" you gasped out, tears starting to form your eyes from how dirty and gross you felt. while distracted with that, you abruptly stopped to the feeling of something being slipped onto your neck. a shock collar. to make things worse, that collar has his name on it.

"now don’t you dare take it off, I want everyone to know you’re mine. and i think it suits you, s/o." he turned his back to you, taking one last glance before leaving you stranded in the darkness of your brand new room, only a tad bit of moonlight managing to stream in through the metal shutters of the window.

you curled into a ball and started to cry. everything had happened so quickly, you didn't even know izuru well, you only met him through hajime. how special were you to him? you were just a regular mortal doing what they were made to do.

i know how horny you are crane so i added some uuh french kissing, thanks for making me do this 🙄/s also you chose all of the prompts that are so aggressive and izuru-like i'm impressed. i'm considering on making a part 2 of this...

#danganronpa x reader #yandere danganronpa #yandere danganronpa x reader #danganronpa #yandere izuru x reader #yandere kamukura x reader #izuru kamukura x reader #izuru x reader #dr #dr x reader #yandere dr #crane i hate you #mm #yandere content #i had a lotta fun writing this though

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threephantomrey · 21 days ago

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what i think the 13 Ghosts would be doing and where they would be in modern day:

• Nekara: AT THE CLUB!!!! people first meet her on the dance floor and she love bombs them. she then tells them she wants some alone time with them so she takes them to a private spot where she steals all their valuables and then kills them. that or she uses dating apps to find victims, and says on her profile that she wants casual dating and when the person she’s being casual with wants to take things to the next level, she leaves and kills them. puts down other women in order to get a man’s attention

• Zomba: traps people in their phones or laptops and traps them in specific websites/apps. like now for an eternity she tortures them by trapping them in twitter and making them read the most stupid discourse about things that don’t matter, or whenever they post something EVERYONE misinterprets whatever they’re saying and no one is able to understand what they’re actually saying except for the person who posted the tweets.

• Rankor: possesses phones and laptops to hack peoples accounts. i’m talking social media accounts, work emails, school emails, bank accounts. he hacks someone’s spotify and they’re forced to listen to “High Hopes” by Panic At The Disco for eternity.

• Demondo: on deviantart and AO3 torturing artists by forcing them to post AI art.

• Maldor: makes cursed melatonin and other sleep supplements and sells them to mortals at their local pharmacy, also sells cursed mattresses at Raymour & Flanigan

• Queen Morbidia: she disguises herself as a doctor and says she does blood transfusions but really she just steals other people’s blood and feeds on it

• Time Slime: is behind the current nostalgia trend and the cinematic universe trend. creates tiktok to shorten the attention spans of gen z as much as possible. messes with time so much that people from the past are now born in the future and is also constantly making people rewrite and forget history

• Captain Ferguson: disguises himself as a lifeguard at beaches but instead of actually being one, he makes sure everything aligns so that the people at the beaches drown mysteriously

• Professor Phantazmo: becomes a tiktok influencer and a youtuber to give gen z and gen alpha brainrot

• Marcella: gets young people to summon her and make her all powerful by posting videos about spells and witches and telling them to recite the spells in the comments

• Zimbulu: trains wild animals at zoos to attack and kill the people that are visiting there and the people that work there

• Reflector Specter: uses any sort of mirror or camera to make someone believe they’re ugly and make them go mad as they try to constantly alter their appearance to feel better about themselves

• Asmodeus: is an EXTREMELY famous celebrity that has the most parasocial fanbase both online and offline that there’s ever been in all of history. he is in all corners of the internet, in every book, every game, every movie, every advertisement, every show, every video, every song, on every billboard. is #1 ALLL of the time. constantly breaking records. no one can get away from him. someone gives him the slightest amount of criticism and his entire fanbase shows up at their house in .00002 seconds with torches and pitchforks. someone disagrees with something he said or did? he orders his fanbase to shun and attack them and ruin their and their family and friend’s lives. he literally is a cult leader.

#scooby doo #the 13 ghosts of scooby doo #DKDHDJSBDJSJDBSBDJSBD

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20thcentwriter · 7 months ago

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Blog update!! (But mostly a rant bc I'm having a panic attack)

(I want to preface this rant by saying I'm a post highschool 19 year old graduate that still lives at home with my parents. I'm working two jobs and pay my parents to help with bills. Also I'm tagging this with Ewan because I need advice I'm sorry)

Hi so major problem here I completely shattered my iPad which is basically my life and Im honestly kinda fucked right bc I don't know what to do. I have no clue when I'll be able to get a new iPad and my ipad atm is usable but i can barely see because of how shattered it got.

Thankfully I have tumblr downloaded on my TracFone so I'm not completely fucked and I still use the app. but it's going to be a little harder to make wallpapers because I can't get the subscription to PicsArt plus now bc I need to save for the new ipad. I was literally going to get a new subscription that was about to go out on Thursday. It also sucks bc making wallpapers relax me and I can't even do that

My current iPad is a 6th Gen and I want to get a refurbished one from Amazon bc it's the cheapest in my price range but my mom told me in the past not to bc its better to buy a new one

I also don't know if I'll be able to save all my data on my iPad. It has so many pictures and edits that I don't want to lose. I think it'll be okay because it's an I cloud account but I don't know.

The truly fucked thing too rn is that it's 2 am and I can't even talk to my mom about it. She essentially gave me that iPad in 2021 and now I feel like she'll hate me and that I'm irresponsible. I really didn't mean to shatter it and I'm really careful bc of my horrible luck

My dad said my mom won't be mad at me but I have an anxiety disorder and my brain goes to the worst possible situation

I'm pissed that I took the iPad case off and it fell back down and shattered.I EVEN SAW IT SHATTER.

I'm going to try and be hopeful. I might take a melatonin tonight to calm myself so I can actually sleep. I already have anxiety about melatonin but I can suck it up for tonight.

Thank you to anyone who read this rant. I'm honestly just as shattered as my fucking ipad rn and I'm probably going to go and read some fanfic on my crap phone and try to calm myself down

#rant #personal rant #ewan #ewan mitchell #ewan nation #ewanverse #aemond targaryen

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ohgodimafraud · 1 year ago

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hello I come with 'anythings' if you'd like them <3 - What TYPE of dessert is your favourite? (follow up) what kind from that type? (as specific as you wanna get!) - Do you have a favourite place to hang out when you wanna do nothing? Or a favourite place to people watch? - If you need to get studying done, what helps you? What makes it worse? - If you were a bird for a day, what would you be excited to do? What would you not wanna do? - Is there a song stuck in your head? More than one? (follow up) If so, which one(s)? - Do you have anything you need so you can sleep? Is there anything that you can't stand while sleeping? - If you could have any meal free for the rest of your life, (every time you get it, it's free) what meal would you choose, and why? - What meal always makes you feel happy? Do you know why that is, and if you do, want to share the reason~? this is so long, so feel free to pick and choose, or answer all if you want!! Just a lil variety~ <3)

Tysm for asking these omg 🥺🥺🥺 you are so sweet fjdjdhjfj

Ahhh I can’t choose honestly. Maybe like puddingy types? Like I love getting rice pudding and flan and bread pudding at restaurants. Also love good ice cream in the summer

For hangout places I love the weeby stores by me!!!! There’s a spot I love that has rlly good ramen and snacks. I also love going to a specific mall and the barcade w friends. Always love GameStop too.

Omg studying 😭 thank god I’m done w college. If I wanted to get a masters tho 💀 omg. Ok hm. Def practicing. For some types of studying music can help. Other times it doesn’t. Having a specific area helped me like sometimes going to the library or sitting on the floor rather than my bed or in the living room. Having snacks or set goals for myself. Setting a timer could help. Working w ppl who would hold me accountable vs ppl who just wanna chill (less helpful)

Having the tv on is def a distraction or like trying to study passively. I don’t remember all the tools I used honestly. I probably would rewrite the info and give myself practice questions. I definitely struggled to pay attention looking back. Lots of my note docs would be almost blank bc I’d just start writing fanfic. I also attended zoom university for a bit so it was a wash. I sucked at studying in high school. My senior year was full of bs classes that I was actually interested in. I probably should get screened for adhd but my therapist was like you’re fine so 🤷🏼 w/e. I almost failed math sophomore year of hs bc I could not focus I would just draw mermaids in the corners of my notebook. My parents’ friend/a dif teacher tutored me and the one on one help is def the only way I passed. I took an easier class next year that I could bs my way thru and same for my senior year.

In college I’d be like bitch u don’t EAT until u do this math. U get NO free ice cream if u don’t do it >:(. U don’t get to do xyz until after. I will order DOMINOS if u actually try

I am v lucky to have a job I care about and can plan for. It’s like the fine dining and breathing SpongeBob thing. If I don’t care about it it’s thrown out and everything is on fire.

If I were a bird I’d be like omfg write that down WRITE THAT DOWN it’s going in the next h//awks fanfic. I would wanna fly. I’d maybe wanna visit ppl I care about. Like not to do anything creepy tho idek. I probs wouldn’t wanna eat bugs.

I found a way from drake and Josh and also flowers - Miley Cyrus

Haha I used to need the tv on to sleep at my parents’ house. I also used to have a much easier time w melatonin, weed, or alcohol bc I was constantly anxious there. 🥲 now I can lit sleep in absolute dark and w silence and don’t need any sleep aides. I love the lil fan I have blowing on my face and I love sleeping in the ac. I love my blankets I have some special ones and then a weighted one that is such a game changer. I hate when it’s too hot to sleep or too cold like I don’t like having to bundle. When I lived w my roommates they liked it really cold and I’d basically shiver until I finally crashed. W like a sweatshirt and sweatpants and socks and multiple blankets.

A burrito or burrito bowl bc whenever I was hella sad I’d go to qdoba and it would make me so much happier immediately. And whenever it was free it was an extra boost. I loved being able to choose everything too and like a lot of the staff knew what I was gonna say bc I was there a lot 💀💀💀

LMAO QDOBA MAKES ME HAPPPPYYYYY

also my moms cooking is so good. like it’s soooo fucking fire it’s worth the drama just to come eat.

also I love sushi. I think I tried it for the first time w friends and it’s always a comforting food. same w ramen. if im like s*** or depressed it’s another go to. I used to get it a lot when I was working at this one job I hated

#not snz #ama #tw: drug mention

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pastelaspirations · 10 months ago

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How I beat sleep paralysis with the power of knowledge and my compulsive habit to research anything that I have the off chance to write about in a fic

DISCLAIMER: This is just how I beat it, people's experiences of sleep paralysis are different and some methods that may work for one person may not work for another.

Ya read the title correctly. I expect no one to read this, but I don't care. I must tell my story. In my special, niche way in that I can construct a story out of absolutely nothing with 5k words more than I needed to. So, come with me, as I recount the tale of how I successfully beat my first experience with sleep paralysis, armed with only the power of knowledge and my bad habit to extensively research anything that I might stick in a fic one day.

For some background; I have never had sleep paralysis before. Although, I have done lots of research into it in the past because I found it very interesting, not only from people's real accounts of it but from the ✧˖°.memes✧˖°. too. Your good ol' sleep paralysis demon memes. I also thought it might be interesting to write about one day! And because I pride myself on being... fairly accurate, I do a whole lot of research into things I may never actually write about because "what if one day I want to-"

So, I had a lot of prior knowledge to sleep paralysis, including what helped people wake up from it.

Additionally, I have insomnia. :D I haven't gone to a doctor to get it "officially" diagnosed, but I checked every box on the insomnia checklist. It's depressing, I know. I've had it for as long as I can remember. This is important to know as sleep disorders can increase your chances of experiencing sleep paralysis.

Insomnia makes my life very fun. Any sound or light can wake me up. Sleeping in a different bed prevents me from sleeping altogether. Being moved at all wakes me up. I wake up every time I need to toss over in bed, for example. So, just... it's g r e a t.

Anyway, this semester, two days of the week, I have to wake up at 6 in the morning in order to make it to an 8 o'clock class. It's bad. So, the night before, I take melatonin and at least try and go to bed early, all to attempt to combat my insomnia. However, my insomnia also likes giving me the problem of making it extremely difficult for me to fall asleep if I know I have to be somewhere in the morning. So, the days I need the sleep the most are ironically the days I get the least amount of sleep. :D

That said. The night before, I took melatonin and hit the sack relatively early. I also used a sleep mask just to block out any light in hopes that would help me sleep better.

Well, at one point, I think I was asleep? I am not sure. I felt like I was awake and just trying to sleep. Like, that weird, half-asleep daze, but you're still awake and not fully asleep. You get what I mean.

Suddenly, I feel all this movement and I hear all this sound. It's annoying, but I don't remove my sleep mask because I'm trying to sleep. Well, for some reason, I'm convinced my dog is on my lap, just tossing and turning trying to sleep.

Which is weird because he sleeps in my brother's room down the hall.

This does not concern me. I don't know why. I just ignore my "dog" as he's shuffling to get comfortable. He'll lie still eventually and then I'll be able to sleep. I just gotta wait it out.

Then. My bed starts jostling around even more. Now, I'm convinced my brother is in my bed. I DO NOT KNOW WHY, HIS ROOM IS DOWN THE HALL, WE DO NOT SHARE A BED. BUT I'M CONVINCED HE'S ON MY BED, FLOPPING AROUND AND EVEN OFF THE BED. JUST MAKING A WHOLE LOT OF NOISE AND SHAKING THE ENTIRE BED. BEING AWFUL.

This also does not concern me. For some freaking reason. You can see why I thought I was asleep now, huh?

I wanted to gripe at him. Tell him to knock it off, I've got to be up early in the morning and I'm trying to sleep.

But my voice wouldn't work.

I wasn't even alarmed, just thought that was weird. So, I just lay there, comprehending that, when my "brother" flopped off the bed. He then started banging around everything in the freaking room. He was being obnoxiously loud. Ridiculously loud. Banging on the walls, grabbing crap and throwing it around, he was deliberately trying to keep me from sleeping.

Now, I was ticked. I wanted to yell at him, tell him to KNOCK IT OFF. But still, my vocal folds wouldn't move. I couldn't speak even though my brain told myself to. I wasn't alarmed even now, all I thought was "Fine. If I can't tell you to shut up, I can sure as hell whack you-"

But my arm wouldn't move.

Now, I was concerned. I told my arms to move. I told my legs to move. Nothing moved. I told myself to scream. I remained silent. It was like the connection from my brain to my body had been completely severed.

My "brother" seemed to sense my irritation? Since he came stomping over and started violently shaking me in my bed. I couldn't fight back or scream, I was powerless. Then, he started pressing down on my chest. N o w, I was having a harder and harder time breathing.

All of this, mind you, I was experiencing completely blind because I couldn't remove my sleep mask.

I was beginning to freak out. Not only did I think I was going to die, but my brother.

My freaking brother is the butthead who's going take me out, what the hell. What kind of stupid Greek tragedy is this-

So, as I'm lying there, still blind with the sleep mask, freaking out and slightly annoyed at this is the way I'm going to die, a thought suddenly flashes through my head. Just one, singular thought.

"Oh! This is just sleep paralysis!"

I kid you not, that is literally what I thought.

Suddenly, all my fear evaporated. I was no longer scared. I just immediately went right into the tactic I read people who experienced sleep paralysis use to wake themselves up from it. I didn't even hesitate, just immediately jumped into it like I discovered a solution to a hard video game puzzle.

I focused all my attention on moving just one muscle. If I could move that one muscle, I could slowly work my way to other muscles, until I could move the whole limb or the rest of my face. So, I chose one eyelid. The one that would be peeking out from under the sleep mask if it were open.

I commanded and I commanded my eyelid to open. I willed it to open, the strongest I ever willed it to open before. Until finally, it snapped open. All of a sudden, all the shaking by my "brother" and all the sounds abruptly stopped. It was like nothing had happened, I was alone in my room.

So, I... just flopped over and went back to sleep. As fast as an insomniac can fall asleep anyway. I remember thinking "wow, that was a lot less scary than I thought it'd be."

AND LIKE. IT WAS. BUT BEFORE I KNEW WHAT IT WAS.

As soon as I realized, I wasn't scared anymore. It makes me wonder what would have happened if I didn't have the sleep mask on. Would I have seen an actual sleep paralysis demon?? I had the auditory and physical movement hallucinations. Who's to say I wouldn't have had a visual one too if I didn't have the sleep mask on?

But imagine that. Imagine you're a sleep paralysis demon, you've got all the power, until suddenly, your victim thinks in revelation, "Oh! You're just a sleep paralysis demon! I know what to do now! :D"

J u s t a sleep paralysis demon. Defeated by the power of knowledge and the off chance of being written about in a fic.

#sleep paralysis #first time with sleep paralysis #overly long tumblr post #Granted I maybe did have a sleep paralysis demon #My “brother” freaking shaking me and trying to suffocate me #I just couldn't see him #My sleep paralysis demon is just a demented evil version of my brother #It's almost poetic; in a Greek tragedy sort of way #I told him that and he didn't know what to think about it

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the-duke-of-nuts · 2 years ago

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The Case Of The Missing Skin Care Products

Wow Duke it’s been *checks calendar* 1 year, 3 months and 21 days since you last posted a fic here. The first chapter of any of my AUs will come out in 5+ years I’m pretty sure this is a record /light hearted Anyways shameless self promo I posted the fic I was supposed to post for last years Roceit Week on my Ao3 last month (Will I ever actually post it here who knows but if you wanna read it just click my account through this fics link it’s literally the only Roceit fic on the account) and if you want/prefer to read this fic on Ao3 the link is here. That is all and as always enjoy and if you don’t literally just scroll away

Summary: Remus lives for causing chaos especially if it means he gets to anger Roman and what better way to do that with the help of no one other than his Chaotic Partner In Crime, but what happens when the Prince wakes up to find his second most prized possession stolen? Will Roman figure the real culprits out or will they get away with it?

Pairing(s): Dukexiety, Logince, Moceit

Word Count: 3034

Warnings: Remus being Remus (AKA Suggestive comments/Small Innuendo, Eating things you’re not supposed to) Angry Roman so there’s yelling I guess (Let me know if there’s anything else)

Normally 2 AM would be the hour of people already being asleep, an insomniac and horror fan like Virgil however was doing the complete opposite. The emo was currently playing Outlast on his Nintendo Switch and he was very determined to beat it. Virgil was in the zone and when he was in the zone, he was in the zone. The anxious side loved the rush horror always gave him: the eagerness of wanting to know what's going to happen next, the adrenaline from the challenge of outrunning the enemy, the unexpectancy of what's going to pop out at him, the eerie silence, the dark atmosphere, who-

"Vee Vee!"

Virgil jumped at hearing the whisper yell calling to him quickly catching his Switch in time before it hit the ground and paused the game when he finally saw the source of the surprisingly clothed Side calling his name.

"Remus what the hell it's 2 in the damn morning what are you doing here!?" The startled emo whispered yelled back to his boyfriend so he wouldn't wake anyone.

"I got a little lonely and wanted to see if my Darling Emo Nightmare was awake at 2 AM playing Outlast instead of taking his Melatonin gummies and sleeping." Remus jokingly replied fake pouting.

Virgil playfully rolled his eyes. "Of course you did, but seriously what's going on did something happen?"

"Well nothing really happened... yet." Remus grinned mischievously.

"I know that look, what are you planning Dukey?"

"Me? Planning something? Now why would- I wanna steal shit from Roman's room to cause chaos and wanted to know if my Chaotic Partner In Crime wanted to help me." The Duke immediately admitted smirking.

"Knew that chaotic brain of yours had a plan, but to answer the question about your offer what's in it for me?"

"Depends on what my Emo Spiderling wants~" Remus smirked wiggling his eyebrows as he got closer to Virgil.

"Hmmmm Horror movie marathon and no causing headaches for 3 days after this and you got yourself a deal." Virgil smirked back at his boyfriend. Remus went wide eyed. He can't even go 5 minutes without doing anything to purposely cause problems and Virgil expected him to go that long not to!?

"3 days!?"

"Yup that's what I said. 3 days."

"Oh you are so cruel to me sometimes Scare Bear! But fiiine the horror movie marathon will make up for it anyways." Remus grumbled crossing his arms. Virgil laughed and gave his slightly disappointed Duke a kiss on the lips to which he immediately happily reciprocated getting out of his pouty state. "Perfect let's go." Virgil said as he took Remus' hand and pulled him out of the room.

Remus was quietly snickering the moment they were in the hallway and at Roman's door. He always enjoyed doing this on his own but causing any ounce of chaos with Virgil made it 10x even more enjoyable and fun. "After you, my 'Itsy Bitsy Spider'." Remus whispered as he dramatically bowed getting out of the way. "Such a gentleman." Virgil teased whispering back as he carefully and quietly opened the door and entered the room with Remus.

What Virgil saw didn't surprise him, by the amount of posters and merch Roman had of himself he didn't even need to see the Prince sleeping on the bed with his own plushie to know that it's his room.

"I love you Roman. I love you too Roman." The Beast onesied Prince slept talked turning to the other side of the bed snuggling closer with the plush. Virgil rolled his eyes at the sight. "What's next does he have some hidden clone in here we don't know about?" He sarcastically asked whispering. "Oh trust me he would make that far from hidden in more ways than one." Remus whispered back crouching down to crawl on the floor and motioned Virgil to follow him. Virgil grimaced in disgust at the thought and followed the crawling Duke until they reached Roman's nightstand.

"Now this is where the fun starts, but the real question is which one of these lovely little valuables will be our victims?" As the two started scanning the nightstand deciding on an item, Virgil noticed a missing space between the stars that used to look neatly decorated on it.

"I'm assuming you already stole one of his stars?"

Remus quietly snickered at remembering the anger his brother had the morning after that night over him stealing one of his beloved stars and smirked as he whispered back his answer.

"Maybe."

"Figures. How about his katana?"

"Hmmmm Tempting but I want to save that for a more special occasion. Tonight we're going for slightly above moderate rage level not death wish just yet."

Virgil nodded at the response and started scanning the nightstand again. The skeleton onesied Side was slowly running out of ideas until his eyes laid on a stack of different branded, color coded, products that Roman would be enraged for weeks if he caught someone touching.

"What about his skin care products? He cares about his looks more than anything and he'd be pissed if he found it missing." He suggested. Remus quietly gasped and whispered back in excitement. "Scare Bear you sexy little genius that's perfect!" The Duke quickly but carefully picked up the products and handed some to Virgil. "Now let's go I know exactly where to hide these!" Remus excitedly whispered as he quickly and stealthily ran out of the room with Virgil trying to keep up behind him.

"Ree wait up!" Virgil whispered yelled as he carefully tried to close Roman's door with his hands full and sighed when he found the Duke nowhere in sight in the hall afterwards. "You gotta be kidd- Ing!" The emo yelped when he felt himself get pulled into a room and realized whose it was.

"Slow poke." Remus teased hugging Virgil closer from behind, resting his chin on the top of his boyfriend's head. "Asshole." Virgil playfully hit a cackling Remus' shoulder when he turned around. "Whaaaat I thought you were good at keeping up at a lot of things Vee Vee~" Remus smirked wiggling his eyebrows. Virgil playfully rolled his eyes blushing slightly at the suggestive comment.

"Yeah yeah anyways where do I put these?"

"Right this way." Remus said as he led Virgil to the source of where he hides all the things he steals.

"Your closet?"

"Would you dare look in there at 3 in the morning if you were Roman?"

"Touché. Alright let's get this over with-"

"Wait wait hold on!" Remus stopped Virgil before he could throw the rest of the products inside. "What-" When Virgil turned to look at Remus again all he could do was blink repeatedly at trying to process the image of seeing his boyfriend munching on one of the products.

"Mmmm Strawberry! Okay now quick throw it in!"

"I- Y'know what why am I not even surprised by that?" The skeleton onesied Side shook his head and quickly threw the products in the closet and closed it. "Simple, because you love me." Remus smiled innocently batting his lashes "You know I do but you still owe me for leaving me back there." Virgil crossed his arms.

"Oh where are my manners what can I possibly do to make it up to my Chaotic Partner In Crime?"

"I think you know." Virgil smirked as he wrapped his arms around Remus' neck. "Maybe I do." Remus smirked back and wrapped his arms around Virgil's waist leaning closer. Just before the eyeshadowed couple could break the space between them and kiss they heard a familiar high pitched loud scream in the distance.

"Who in Aphrodites' name stole my skin care products!?"

They both laughed at hearing the rage in Roman's voice from the other room. "Guess he woke up earlier than expected and a new record too!" Remus cackled.

Roman could not believe this was happening to him. One moment he was sleeping peacefully and dreaming about being praised in his royal glory and next thing he knows he hears a sound and wakes up just to find his second most prized possession stolen! The Beast onesied Prince was currently pacing around his room trying to calm down both his anger and distress.

'Relax Roman it's fine you'll catch the sneaky little bandit you just need some help doing it while everyone else is a suspect but who?'

Roman wondered to himself but soon knew the exact Side to go to. Logan. His beloved nerd was known for being skilled in the mystery department and he was the only one he knew for certain was innocent so he was just the Side he needed for this. He made up his mind and quickly ran to Logan's room and frantically knocked on his door.

"Roman it's the middle of the night what's going on?" Logan asked as he opened the door adjusting his glasses.

"I know it's late Starling but this is an emergency and I really need your Detective skills."

Logan immediately summoned his Sherlock outfit on himself upon hearing one of his favorite words. Finally a real mystery he get's to solve, he's waited for this moment his whole life.

"You had me at 'Detective' what do you need?"

"Someone stole my beauty products and I need your help finding the culprit."

"Well I can certainly help with that Dear. Perhaps we can start by finding some evidence from the location of the crime scene?"

"Good idea."

They both made sure to be quick about going back to Roman's room. The Prince had already been robbed once and he's certainly going to make sure it doesn't happen twice.

"Alright Roman can you tell me when you first noticed your belongings stolen?" Logan asked summoning a pen and notepad.

"Well I heard a noise that rudely interrupted both my dream and beauty sleep and that's when I saw they were gone."

Logan nodded writing down the response. It was a start but he needed to know a little more information.

"Interesting. Do you know where you last had them?"

"On my nightstand." Roman answered and pointed at the spot where the items used to be on the dresser.

The Detective leaned closer to the spot and summoned a small brush and fingerprint dust and started to use it on the nightstand but found nothing. "Fascinating, there's not a single fingerprint on here." Logan wrote down the results intrigued. He was impressed that the thief managed to take all of the products in a short period of time without leaving a single trace of evidence let alone before Roman could even wake up.

"Maybe they used gloves?" Roman suggested.

"That or they're very experienced in swiftly stealing things in a careful manner like seriously there's literally not a single footprint here either." Logan replied using his magnifying glass on the floor.

"What!? Who could it possibly-"

Roman went wide eyed in realization putting the clues together he knew exactly who it led to but at the same time it could've been anyone and he knew just the thing to do to get his answers.

"Starling I think we've found our culprit. Everyone living room meeting! Now!"

"You all probably know why I've called you here or mostly one of you for that matter." Roman said pacing slowly back and forth infront of a sideways line he made the other sides form. "Ah yes clearly you called us here at 4 AM to practice our kickline routine for your next upcoming musical." Janus sarcastically said rolling his eyes.

"No...! But that's not a bad idea for another time! Anyways I've called you all here because someone stole my skin care products and I know exactly who it is!" Roman declared stealing a glance at Janus.

"If that's the case then why did you call all of us instead of the person you knew who did it?"

"Because if I did that and end up being wrong I wouldn't get to freely interrogate the rest of you in one room to find the real culprit."

"Okay but how come Logan isn't in the line?" Virgil asked.

"Because my Starling would never do something like this."

"How would you know that?" Remus asked.

"Are we really going to have that discussion?" Logan replied giving the Duke a look as if the answer to his own question was obvious. "You may never know." Remus shrugged his shoulders.

"As much as I'm enjoying this slumber party, I would like to go back to bed so Roman please do share who you believe this mysterious thief is."

"Very interesting that you're so eager on that information when it was actually no one other than you Janaconda!" Roman exclaimed pointing an accusing finger at Janus.

"Me?"

"Don't play innocent Lyin' King yes you! From the evidence Logan and I've gathered there was not a single fingerprint or footprint in sight and who do we know is experienced in carefully stealing things, wears gloves, and can easily turn into a snake? That's right the Self Care King himself! Those scales are perfectly smooth for a reason and it certainly isn't from shedding!"

Janus blinked trying to process the Prince's accusations. He didn't know whether the sleep deprivation was kicking in or if he was genuinely losing braincells.

"Congratulations you figured him out can we all go to sleep now?" A fake irritated Virgil asked.

"Not yet I wanna hear him out."

Janus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Roman I'm going to be honest here with you for once because I'm too tired to deal with this right now, there's this thing called lotion and it's why I would have no reason to steal your products."

"Bullshit it takes more than just lotion for smooth skin! I've also had multiple products and you're the only one with extra hands to carry them unless-" Roman suddenly gasped having a realization. No it couldn't be but it all came together.

"It was you too wasn't it Patton!?"

"W-What?" Patton asked nervously confused.

"Only you would be kind enough to help your beloved husband in the act and cover for him!"

Patton didn't know what to say or think. Did he and Janus slept walk and somehow did it? Was he the one who stole it without realizing? Did he borrow it and forgot to give it back to Roman? Whatever it was he certainly wasn't going to let his husband be punished for it.

"Yes it was me! I did it! Take me instead!"

Janus facepalmed at hearing Patton try to take the blame for him. This whole situation felt like an endless fever dream he couldn't wake up from.

"Patton I trusted you and expected this from him but from you of all people-"

"Roman chill out." Virgil cut in before Roman could scold Patton further and unintentionally make the cat onesied Side have a mental breakdown for something he didn't even do. "Why are you defending them!? Maybe it was really you who stole it because we're all well aware of how you take pride in your whole emo persona! I bet you did it for a cleaner pale look!" Roman accused glaring at Virgil.

All the skeleton onesied Side could do was blink and raise an eyebrow. Despite actually being partially guilty of doing it that would be the last reason for something to be his motive.

'He should really just leave the Detective stuff to Logan'

"Roman when have I ever gave a shit about hygiene for the sake of beauty let alone to look more 'emo' for it?"

Roman opened and closed his mouth hesitating on his response. Virgil was right. The emo never cared for being the center of attention let alone look more appealing to others especially when he was dating someone like Remus. "I- Y'know what yeah fair that alone makes you automatically innocent."

Roman turned and his eyes then laid on Remus. If someone had a history of stealing things his twin was definitely one of them.

"I don't know why you're looking at me Romano when you know I'm the dirtiest out of all of us for a reason."

"That's true and you wouldn't have any use for them anyways." Roman squinted suspiciously at his brother.

"Well one..." He side eyed Janus and Patton. "Or two of you could be lying and I'm going to find out who-"

Roman suddenly cut himself off when he smelt a familiar strawberry scent as he faced his twin again. "What? Have you finally appreciated my new fragrance 'Sweet Sewage Delight' brother dearest?" Remus asked feigning innocence. Roman glared at the response.

"Starling magnifying glass!"

Once Logan handed the magnifying glass to Roman, The Prince immediately hovered it over Remus' mouth and gasped at seeing the tiny pink crumbs around it.

"I knew it!"

"Clearly you didn't because you were so confident in it being Janny and Patty!" Remus cackled. Roman took a deep breath in and out to contain his anger at his brother so he can properly apologize to Janus and Patton for the misunderstanding.

"Apologies on my part for that you two."

"It's alright Ro."

"Accuse me of something in the middle of the night again and I'll sue you for slander." Janus tiredly threatened. "Noted. Now that I've caught the real culprit..." Roman summoned a rolled up newspaper and started repeatedly hitting his cackling brother on the head with it. "Stop stealing my stuff you heathen! You owe me a new one and if you even dare try to do this again I'm making a soap barrier on both mine and your front door!" He summoned the newspaper away and jumped into Logan's arms.

"Starling carry me back to bed please."

"Yes Dear." Logan sighed doing just that with Patton and Janus following behind holding hands as they walked back to their respective rooms as well, leaving the eyeshadowed couple in the living room.

"Thanks for still taking the full blame back there, you didn't have to."

"Oh y'know it was nothing." Remus waved his hand dismissively.

"Still not reducing your chaos days."

"Damn it!"

#dukexiety #logince #moceit #virgil sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #ts virgil #ts remus #ts roman #ts logan #ts janus #ts patton #sanders sides #thomas sanders #dukey writes

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chicagosfinest2021 · 2 years ago

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My followers don't ask me anything so I'll just answer some stuff on my own LOL

1:Virgin? No but I might as well be at this point LOL Actually sometimes I wish I was a virgin. . .

2:Shoe size 9.5 Too short for my feet to be so big IMO. . .

3:Do you smoke? Just meats

4:Do you drink? Casually/socially

5:Do you take drugs? Does melatonin count?

6:Age you get mistaken for Early to mid 20's

7:Have tattoos? No

8:Want any tattoos? No, I like my chocolate brown skin the way it is :-)

9:Got any piercings? Just my ears

10:Want any piercings? MIght do my navel later

11:Best friend? My slightly younger sister <3

12:Relationship status Perpetually single

13:Biggest turn ons Money going into my bank account

14:Biggest turn offs Money leaving my bank account

15:Favorite movie It was Bend It Like Beckham but Wakanda Forever is a close 2nd (only because the former came out first)

16:I’ll love you if YOU FEED ME!!

17:Someone you miss My maternal grandmother (RIP)

18:Most traumatic experience Being SA'ed by different men

19:A fact about your personality I'm a social introvert; I'll hang out around people for a few hours and have a good time as long as I can get 3-4 days to myself afterwards to recuperate/recharge

20:What I hate most about myself I procrastinate too freaking much

21:What I love most about myself I'm thicc AF!!

22:What I want to be when I get older The single, rich, fun auntie

23:My relationship with my sibling(s) Me and my full sister are basically twins and our souls are tied together, living in different states has taken a toll on us mentally. We have a younger half sister whom we didn't know about until about 10 years ago. We love her but the circumstances behind her birth makes our relationship more tricky and we're not as close.

24:My relationship with my parent(s) They are my life. I'm a mommy's girl and a daddy's girl

25:My idea of a perfect date I honestly don't have one

26:My biggest pet peeves Unnecessary noise. Like right now my neighbors keep slamming the door that leads to the stairway right next to my unit because they refuse to gently shut the door like they've got some sense

27:A description of the girl/boy I like Other than celebrity crushes, I don't like anyone right now haha

28:A description of the person I dislike the most Can't think of anyone specific right now

29:A reason I’ve lied to a friend I love my best friend but she and I have very different lifestyles and philosophies about life, I won't necessary lie to her but I'll keep my mouth shut about certain things just to keep the peace between us (and it isn't easy).

30:What I hate the most about work/school I actually like what I do for the most part, but more money would always be a plus obviously

31:What your last text message says "We're sorry, your order from Taco Bell was cancelled. . ."

32:What words upset me the most Actions tend to hurt me harder than words do

33:What words make me feel the best about myself "You can't be fixed because you were never broken in the first place"

34:What I find attractive in women Emotional intelligence

35:What I find attractive in men Emotional intelligence

36:Where I would like to live If I couldn't continue to live in the Chicago area I'd like to live in Northern Europe, someplace where it's cold most of the year haha

37:One of my insecurities My stomach isn't flat :-(

38:My childhood career choice I think I shifted back and forth between a piano player and a writer.

39:My favorite ice cream flavor I actually don't eat ice cream a lot but I've heard good things about rum raisin. . .

40:Who wish I could be I actually like being myself, it's pretty dope

41:Where I want to be right now I want to be at my parents house with my parents, my sister and her daughter my niece, laughing, talking and listening to music

42:The last thing I ate A McGriddle from McDonalds LOL

43:Sexiest person that comes to my mind immediately Cross between Letitia Wright and Tenoch Huerta Mejia (Alex Livinalli as a runner up)

44:A random fact about anything England is a constitutional monarchy and only their parliament can make the laws , the royal family has no real power or purpose and actually costs the country money.

#chicagosfinest

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secretewagmaterial · 29 days ago

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Glow-Up & Weight Journal:

TW: Please do not read this if you're struggling with an ED or any sort of mental health issue. This is not an ED account, this is my personal weight and glow up journal.

Day # 4

Weight - 213.4 lbs.

"It's time to write a new story."

Hello tumblr!

So I went to the store and accidently bought 2 bottles of vitamin D lols.. It happens I guess? I don't mind it for now but I'll buy some other vitamins and supplements.

I drank so much water today (unintentionally). Like I have this bottle that holds 2000ML and I drank the whole thing before 8PM which is insane to me. I don't think I've ever drank this much water? I had a sandwich and then some food my mom made today but that's all I've had so far. I'm not entirely hungry today but that might've been because my period is coming in a few days. Sometimes I get worried about sharing stuff on this but it's literally my blog so ,,,, if you hate it please leave.

I have,, pissed so much today. After I got off work (which btw was horrid) I cleaned up a bit and did some yoga. I've been thinking of getting a Vogue Magazine subscription but also I need to save so I can't really waste money like that. Really hoping this melatonin hits soon because gosh I cannot stand one more night with falling asleep at 1-3AM. I literally woke up late today and had like 5 mins to get my computer set up for work. Forever thankful that I don't work on Monday because I plan to do my hair over the weekend.

C has been on my ass lately about my coping skills and low key he did not need to go that hard on me but it's ok because this is his job. K and S (the girls I'm going on my trip with) have been super supportive though! They're my main motivation on this whole glow up journey because I don't want to disappoint them with my looks. My whole life I've never been attractive so this is a new step for me.

My last pay from my old job hit today and I barely have $100 left from it,, my gosh (originally $680). My new job pay hits this Tuesday I think? I don't know actually I should check that with my agent.

Anyway I think that's it for now, aside from being obsessed with finding my style of course. (I've been looking at Lemon8 and Pinterest like a freak omg).

Bbbbyyyyeeeeee~

#ameliasjournal

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ylkcheeeks · 1 year ago

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ah, you have The Affliction!

I know this one, you should decide what it is you desire and then want it harder. Only in the present tense, of course, to avoid trapping yourself with the brass ring ever in view but out of reach. Take care you don’t speak your dreams aloud, for the devil may hear you and steal away your resolve, so you fall short of your goal. Actually you should talk through your plans with people, a second mind can often help discern what’s realistic, and they can help hold you accountable.

You should make a list. The list should go into these four quadrants. Actually this other set of quadrants. Actually don’t order it, just use different types of dots and dashes to indicate what’s what. Really, what you should do is buy another new notebook- the standard size is linked here we get a small commish if you click- and a new pack of pens. And probably some washi tape as well- you deserve a little treat.

This is the system for you. Or maybe it’s filling your calendar in color coded blocks of time until each day looks like a scarf. Or maybe it’s morning pages.

Don’t keep your phone by your bed. Don’t have any clocks or windows facing you if you want to remember your dreams. Don’t sleep like that you’ll hurt your back. Don’t forget to take your evening meds an hour before bedtime. Sleep with an eye mask and ocean waves. Sleep with potatoes in your socks to naturally free yourself from toxins. Sleep in silence, three feet above the covers.

If it takes five minutes, just do it now. If you have something you need to get done you need to just start immediately and work continuously until you’re done. Use a timer and take breaks every 25 minutes. Body doubling with someone else who is working is best. If you can’t self motivate you’re a failure, actually, so hot that down. Just don’t do the things which suck you out of the flow of time, dropping you unceremoniously into three AM, again.

I know your pain keeps you up at night and makes it hard to even move the ways you normally do, but have you tried exercising? Could you try more? Just live right in all areas first, then we can look into handling your pain.

Oh the lack of sleep is impacting your cognition- have you considered melatonin? You’re already taking it nightly? How much? Hm. Well, have you considered exercise? That could leave you tired out enough to overcome the insomnia!

Why didn’t you ask for help sooner? Why do you have to talk everything to death? Why are you so prickly with people just trying to help you?

How long do you think you can rely on your wit and aging charms to win you just enough luck? How are you so good at helping others at the very things you are not doing for yourself? How are you going to fare in the field if this is how you weather the training?

You know what?

I’m starting to think you’re just lazy.

#yolkcheeks writes #brain dump #adhd stuff #mad grad and dangerous to know #unhelpful advice #unsolicited advice #smiley face with hyper realistic eyes dot png

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auto-anne · 11 months ago

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HOUSE??

Introduction:

I still get nightmares. In fact I get them so often I should be used to them by now. I’m not. No one ever really gets used to nightmares. For a while there I tried every pill imaginable. Anything to curb the fear. Excedrin PMs, Melatonin, L-tryptophan, Valium, Vicodin, quite a few members of the barbital family. A pretty extensive list, frequently mixed, often matched, with shots of bourbon, a few lung rasping bong hits, sometimes even the vaporous confidence-trip of cocaine. None of it helped. I think it’s pretty safe to assume there’s no lab sophisticated enough yet to synthesize the kind of chemicals I need. A Nobel Prize to the one who invents that puppy. I’m so tired. Sleep’s been stalking me for too long to remember. Inevitable I suppose. Sadly though, I’m not looking forward to the prospect. I say “sadly” because there was a time when I actually enjoyed sleeping. In fact I slept all the time. That was before my friend Lude woke me up at three in the morning and asked me to come over to his place. Who knows, if I hadn’t heard the phone ring, would everything be different now? I think about that alot. Actually, Lude had told me about the old man a month or so before that fateful evening. (Is that right? fate? It sure as hell wasn’t -ful. Or was it exactly that?) I’d been in the throes of looking for an apartment after a little difficulty with a landlord who woke up one morning convinced he was Charles de Gaulle. I was so stunned by this announcement that before I could think twice I’d already told him how in my humble estimation he did not at all resemble an airport though the thought of a 757 landing on him was not at all disagreeable. I was promptly evicted. I could have put up a fight but the place was a nuthouse anyway and I was glad to leave. As it turned out Chuckie de Gaulle burnt the place to the ground a week later. Told the police a 757 had crashed into it. During the following weeks, while I was couching it from Santa Monica to Silverlake looking for an apartment, Lude told me about this old guy who lived in his building. He had a first

floor apartment peering out over a wide, overgrown courtyard. Supposedly, the old man had told Lude he would be dying soon. I didn’t think much of it, though it wasn’t exactly the kind of thing you forget either. At the time, I just figured Lude had been putting me on. He likes to exaggerate. I eventually found a studio in Hollywood and settled back into my mind numbing routine as an apprentice at a tattoo shop. It was the end of ‘96. Nights were cold. I was getting over this woman named Clara English who had told me she wanted to date someone at the top of the food chain. So I demonstrated my unflagging devotion to her memory by immediately developing a heavy crush on this stripper who had Thumper tattooed right beneath her G—string, barely an inch from her shaved pussy or as she liked to call it—”The Happiest Place On Earth.” Suffice it say, Lude &I spent the last hours of the year alone, scouting for new bars, new faces, driving recklessly through the canyons, doing our best to talk the high midnight heavens down with a whole lot of bullshit. We never did. Talk them down, I mean. Then the old man died. From what I can gather now, he was an American. Though as I would later find out, those who worked with him detected an accent even if they could never say for certain where it came from. He called himself Zampanô. It was the name he put down on his apartment lease and on several other fragments I found. I never came across any sort of ID, whether a passport, license or other official document insinuating that yes, he indeed was An Actual-&-Accounted-For person. Who knows where his name really came from. Maybe it’s authentic, maybe made up, maybe borrowed, a nom de plume or—my personal favorite—a nom de guerre. As Lude told it, Zampanô had lived in the building for many years, and though he mostly kept to himself, he never failed to appear every morning and evening to walk around the courtyard, a wild place with knee high weeds and back then populated with over eighty stray cats. Apparently the cats liked the old man alot and though he offered no enticements, they would constantly

rub up against his legs before darting back into the center of that dusty place. Anyway, Lude had been out very late with some woman he’d met at his salon. It was just after seven when he finally stumbled back into the courtyard and despite a severe hangover immediately saw what was missing. Lude frequently came home early and always found the old guy working his way around the perimeter of all those weeds, occasionally resting on a sun beaten bench before taking another round. A single mother who got up every morning at six also noted Zampanô’s absence. She went off to work, Lude went off to bed, but when dusk came and their old neighbor had still not appeared, both Lude and the single mother went to alert Flaze, the resident building manager. Flaze is part Hispanic, part Samoan. A bit of a giant, you might say. 6’4”, 245 lbs, virtually no body fat. Vandals, junkies, you name it, they get near the building and Flaze will lunge at them like a pitbull raised in a crackhouse. And don’t think he believes size & strength are invincible. If the interlopers are carrying, he’ll show them his own gun collection and he’ll draw on them too, faster than Billy The Kid. But as soon as Lude voiced his suspicions about the old man, pitbull & Billy The Kid went straight out the window. Flaze suddenly couldn’t find the keys. He started muttering about calling the owner of the building. After twenty minutes, Lude was so fed up with this hemming & hawing he offered to handle the whole thing himself. Flaze immediately found the keys and with a big grin plopped them into Lude’s outstretched hand. Flaze told me later he’d never seen a dead body before and there was no question there would be a body and that just didn’t sit well with Flaze. “We knew what we’d find,” he said. “We knew that guy was dead.” The police found Zampanô just like Lude found him, lying face down on the floor. The paramedics said there was nothing unusual, just the way it goes, eighty some years and the inevitable kerplunk, the system goes down, lights blink out and there you have it, another body on the floor surrounded by things that don’t mean much to anyone except to the one who can’t take any of them along. Still, this was better than the prostitute the paramedics had seen earlier that day. She had been torn to pieces in a hotel room, parts of her used to paint

the walls and ceiling red. Compared to that, this almost seemed pleasant. The whole process took awhile. Police coming and going, paramedics attending to the body, for one thing making sure the old man was really dead; neighbors and eventually even Flaze poking their heads in to gawk, wonder or just graze on a scene that might someday resemble their own end. When it was finally over, it was very late. Lude stood alone in the apartment, the corpse gone, officials gone, even Flaze, the neighbors and other assorted snoops—all gone. Not a soul in sight. “Eighty fucking years old, alone in that pisshole,” Lude had told me later. “I don’t want to end up like that. No wife, no kids, no nobody at all. Not even one fucking friend.” I must have laughed because Lude suddenly turned on me: “Hey Hoss, don’t think young and squirting lots of come guarantees you shit. Look at yourself, working at a tattoo shop, falling for some stripper named Thumper.” And he was sure right about one thing: Zampanô had no family, no friends and hardly a penny to his name. The next day the landlord posted a notice of abandonment and a week later, after declaring that the contents of the apartment were worth less than $300, he called some charity to haul the stuff away. That was the night Lude made his awful discovery, right before the boys from Goodwill or wherever they came from swept in with their gloves and handtrucks. When the phone rang, I was fast asleep. Anybody else I would have hung up on, but Lude’s a good enough friend I actually dragged my ass out of bed at three in the morning and headed over to Franklin. He was waiting outside the gate with a wicked gleam in his eye. I should have turned around right then. I should have known something was up, at the very least sensed the consequence lingering in the air, in the hour, in Lude’s stare, in all of it, and fuck, I must have been some kind of moron to have been so oblivious to all those signs. The way Lude’s keys rattled like bone—chimes as he opened the main gate; the hinges suddenly shrieking as if we weren’t entering a crowded building but some

ancient moss-eaten crypt. Or the way we padded down the dank hallway, buried in shadows, lamps above hung with spangles of light that I swear now must have been the work of gray, primitive spiders. Or probably most important of all, the way Lude whispered when he told me things, things I couldn’t give a damn about back then but now, now, well my nights would be a great deal shorter if I didn’t have to remember them. Ever see yourself doing something in the past and no matter how many times you remember it you still want to scream stop, somehow redirect the action, reorder the present? I feel that way now, watching myself tugged stupidly along by inertia, my own inquisitiveness or whatever else, and it must have been something else, though what exactly I have no clue, maybe nothing, maybe nothing’s all—a pretty meaningless combination of words, “nothing’s all”, but one I like just the same. It doesn’t matter anyway. Whatever orders the path of all my yesterdays was strong enough that night to draw me past all those sleepers kept safely at bay from the living, locked behind their sturdy doors, until I stood at the end of the hail facing the last door on the left, an unremarkable door too, but still a door to the dead. Lude, of course, had been unaware of the unsettling characteristics of our little journey to the back of the building. He had been recounting to me, in many ways dwelling upon, what had happened following the old man’s death. “Two things, Hoss,” Lude muttered as the gate glided open. “Not that they make much difference.” And as far as I can tell, he was right. They have very little to do with what follows. I include them only because they’re part of the history surrounding Zampanô’s death. Hopefully you’ll be able to make sense of what I can represent though still fail to understand. “The first peculiar thing,” Lude told me, leading the way around a short flight of stairs. “Were the cats.” Apparently in the months preceding the old man’s death, the cats had begun to disappear. By the time he died they were all gone. “I saw one with its head ripped off and another with its guts strewn all over the sidewalk. Mostly though, they just vanished.” “The second peculiar thing, you’ll see for yourself” Lude said, lowering his voice even more, as we slipped past the room of what looked suspiciously like a coven of musicians, all of them listening intently to headphones, passing around a spliff. “Right next to the body,” Lude continued. “I found these

gouges in the hardwood floor, a good six or seven inches long. Very weird. But since the old man showed no sign of physical trauma, the cops let it go.” He stopped. We had reached the door. Now I shudder. Back then, I think I was elsewhere. More than likely daydreaming about Thumper. This will probably really wig you out, I don’t care, but one night I even rented Bambi and got a hard on. That’s how bad I had it for her. Thumper was something else and she sure beat the hell out of Clara English. Perhaps at that moment I was even thinking about what the two would look like in a cat fight. One thing’s for sure though, when I heard Lude turn the bolt and open Zampanô’s door, I lost sight of those dreams. What hit me first was the smell. It wasn’t a bad smell just incredibly strong. And it wasn’t one thing either. It was extremely layered, a patina upon progressive patina of odor, the actual source of which had long since evaporated. Back then it had overwhelmed me, so much of it, cloying, bitter, rotten, even mean. These days I can no longer remember the smell only my reaction to it. Still if I had to give it a name, I think I would call it the scent of human history—a composite of sweat, urine, shit, blood, flesh and semen, as well as joy, sorrow, jealousy, rage, vengeance, fear, love, hope and a whole lot more. All of which probably sounds pretty ridiculous, especially since the abilities of my nose are not really relevant here. What’s important though is that this smell was complex for a reason. All the windows were nailed shut and sealed with caulking. The front entrance and courtyard doors all storm proofed. Even the vents were covered with duct tape. That said, this peculiar effort to eliminate any ventilation in the tiny apartment did not culminate with bars on the windows or multiple locks on the doors. Zampanô was not afraid of the outside world. As I’ve already pointed out, he walked around his courtyard and supposedly was even fearless enough to brave the LA public transportation system for an occasional trip to the beach (an adventure even I’m afraid to make). My best guess now is that he

sealed his apartment in an effort to retain the various emanations of his things and himself. Where his things were concerned, they ran the spectrum: tattered furniture, unused candles, ancient shoes (these in particular looking sad &wounded), ceramic bowls as well as glass jars and small wood boxes full of rivets, rubber bands, sea shells, matches, peanut shells, a thousand different kinds of elaborately shaped and colored buttons. One ancient beer stein held nothing more than discarded perfume bottles. As I discovered, the refrigerator wasn’t empty but there wasn’t any food in it either. Zalnpanà had crammed it full of strange, pale books. Of course all of that’s gone now. Long gone. The smell too. I’m left with only a few scattered mental snapshots: a battered Zippo lighter with Patent Pending printed on the bottom; the twining metal ridge, looking a little like some tiny spiral staircase, winding down into the bulbiess interior of a light socket; and for some odd reason—what I remember most of all—a very old tube of chapstick with an amber like resin, hard & cracked. Which still isn’t entirely accurate; though don’t be misled into thinking I’m not trying to be accurate. There were, I admit, other things I recall about his place, they just don’t seem relevant now. To my eye, it was all just junk, time having performed no economic alchemy there, which hardly mattered, as Lude hadn’t called me over to root around in these particular and—to use one of those big words I would eventually learn in the ensuing months—deracinated details of Zampanô’s life. Sure enough, just as my friend had described, on the floor, in fact practically dead center, were the four marks, all of them longer than a hand, jagged bits of wood clawed up by something neither one of us cared to imagine. But that’s not what Lude wanted me to see either. He was pointing at something else which hardly impressed me when I first glanced at its implacable shape. Truth be told, I was still having a hard time taking my eyes off the scarred floor. I even reached out to touch the protruding splinters. What did I know then? What do I know now? At least some of the horror I took away at four in the morning you now have before you, waiting for you a little like it waited for me that night, only without these few covering pages. As I discovered, there were reams and reams of it. Endless

snarls of words, sometimes twisting into meaning, sometimes into nothing at all, frequently breaking apart, always branching off into other pieces I’d come across later—on old napkins, the tattered edges of an envelope, once even on the back of a postage stamp; everything and anything but empty; each fragment completely covered with the creep of years and years of ink pronouncements; layered, crossed out, amended; handwritten, typed; legible, illegible; impenetrable, lucid; torn, stained, scotch taped; some bits crisp and clean, others faded, burnt or folded and refolded so many times the creases have obliterated whole passages of god knows what—sense? truth? deceit? a legacy of prophecy or lunacy or nothing of the kind?, and in the end achieving, designating, describing, recreating—find your own words; I have no more; or plenty more but why? and all to tell— what? Lude didn’t need to have the answer, but somehow he knew I would. Maybe that’s why we were friends. Or maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he did need the answer, he just knew he wasn’t the one who could find it. Maybe that’s the real reason we were friends. But that’s probably wrong too. One thing’s for sure, even without touching it, both of us slowly began to feel its heaviness, sensed something horrifying in its proportions, its silence, its stillness, even if it did seem to have been shoved almost carelessly to the side of the room. I think now if someone had said be careful, we would have. I know a moment came when I felt certain its resolute blackness was capable of anything, maybe even of slashing out, tearing up the floor, murdering Zampanô, murdering us, maybe even murdering you. And then the moment passed. Wonder and the way the unimaginable is sometimes suggested by the inanimate suddenly faded. The thing became only a thing. So I took it home. Back then—well it’s way back then by now—you could have found me downing shots of whiskey at La Poubelle, annihilating my inner ear at Bar Deluxe or dining at Jones with some busty redhead I’d met at House of Blues, our conversation traversing wildly from clubs we knew well to clubs we’d like to know

better. I sure as fuck wasn’t bothered by old man Z’s words. All those signs I just now finished telling you about quickly vanished in the light of subsequent days or had never been there to begin with, existing only in retrospect. At first only curiosity drove me from one phrase to the next. Often a few days would pass before I’d pick up another mauled scrap, maybe even a week, but still I returned, for ten minutes, maybe twenty minutes, grazing over the scenes, the names, small connections starting to form, minor patterns evolving in those spare slivers of time. I never read for more than an hour. Of course curiosity killed the cat, and even if satisfaction supposedly brought it back, there’s still that little problem with the man on the radio telling me more and more about some useless information. But I didn’t care. I just turned the radio off. And then one evening I looked over at my clock and discovered seven hours had passed. Lude had called but I hadn’t noticed the phone ring. I was more than a little surprised when I found his message on my answering machine. That wasn’t the last time I lost sense of time either. In fact it began to happen more often, dozens of hours just blinking by, lost in the twist of so many dangerous sentences. Slowly but surely, I grew more and more disoriented, increasingly more detached from the world, something sad and awful straining around the edges of my mouth, surfacing in my eyes. I stopped going out at night. I stopped going out. Nothing could distract me. I felt like I was losing control. Something terrible was going to happen. Eventually something terrible did happen. No one could reach me. Not Thumper, not even Lude. I nailed my windows shut, threw out the closet and bathroom doors, storm proofed everything, and locks, oh yes, I bought plenty of locks, chains too and a dozen measuring tapes, nailing all those straight to the floor and the walls. They looked suspiciously like lost metal roods or, from a different angle, the fragile ribs of some alien ship. However, unlike Zampanô, this wasn’t about smell, this was about space. I wanted a closed, inviolate and most of all immutable space. At least the measuring tapes should have helped. They didn’t.

Nothing did. I just fixed myself some tea on the hot plate here. My stomach’s gone. I can barely keep even this honey milked—up stuff down but I need the warmth. I’m in a hotel now. My studio’s history. Alot these days is history. I haven’t even washed the blood off yet. Not all of it’s mine either. Still caked around my fingers. Signs of it on my shirt. “What’s happened here?” I keep asking myself. “What have I done?” What would you have done? I went straight for the guns and I loaded them and then I tried to decide what to do with them. The obvious thing was shoot something. After all, that’s what guns are designed to do—shoot something. But who? Or what? I didn’t have a clue. There were people and cars outside my hotel window. Midnight people I didn’t know. Midnight cars I’ve never seen before. I could have shot them. I could have shot them all. I threw up in my closet instead. Of course, I have only my own immeasurable stupidity to blame for winding up here. The old man left plenty of clues and warnings. I was the fool to disregard them. Or was it the reverse: did I secretly enjoy them? At least I should have had some fucking inkling what I was getting into when I read this note, written just one day before he died: January 5, 1997 Whoever finds and publishes this work shall be entitled to all proceeds. I ask only that my name take its rightful place. Perhaps you will even prosper. If, however, you discover that readers are less than sympathetic and choose to dismiss this enterprise out of hand, then may I suggest you drink plenty of wine and dance in the sheets of your wedding night, for whether you know it or not, now you truly are prosperous. They say truth stands the test of time. I can think of no greater comfort than knowing this document failed such a test. Which back then meant absolutely nothing to me. I sure as hell didn’t pause to think that some lousy words were going to land me in a shitty hotel room saturated with the stink of my own vomit. After all, as I fast discovered, Zampanô’s entire project is about a film which doesn’t even exist. You can look, I have,

but no matter how long you search you will never find The Navidson Record in theaters or video stores. Furthermore, most of what’s said by famous people has been made up. I tried contacting all of them. Those that took the time to respond told me they had never heard of Will Navidson let alone Zampanô. As for the books cited in the footnotes, a good portion of them are fictitious. For instance, Gavin Young’s Shots In The Dark doesn’t exist nor does The. Works of Hubert Howe Bancroft, Volume XXVIII. On the other hand virtually any dimwit can go to a library and find W. M. Lindsay and H. J. Thomson’s Ancient Lore in Medieval Latin Glossaries. There really was a “rebellion” on the 1973 Skylab mission but La Belle Nicoise et Le Beau Chien is made up as is, I assume, the bloody story of Quesada and Molino. Add to this my own mistakes (and there’s no doubt I’m responsible for plenty) as well as those errors Zampanô made which I failed to notice or correct, and you’ll see why there’s suddenly a whole lot here not to take too seriously. In retrospect, I also realize there are probably numerous people who would have been better qualified to handle this work, scholars with PhDs from Ivy League schools and minds greater than any Alexandrian Library or World Net. Problem is those people were still in their universities, still on their net and nowhere near Whitley when an old man without friends or family finally died. Zampanô, I’ve come to recognize now, was a very funny man. But his humor was that wry, desiccated kind soldiers whisper, all their jokes subsurface, their laughter amounting to little more than a tic in the corner of the mouth, told as they wait together in their outpost, slowly realizing that help’s not going to reach them in time and come nightfall, no matter what they’ve done or what they try to say, slaughter will overrun them all. Carrion dawn for vultures. See, the irony is it makes no difference that the documentary at the heart of this book is fiction. Zampanô knew from the get go that what’s real or isn’t real doesn’t matter here. The consequences are the same. I can suddenly imagine the cracked voice I never heard.

Lips barely creasing into a smile. Eyes pinned on darkness: “Irony? Irony can never be more than our own personal Maginot Line; the drawing of it, for the most part, purely arbitrary.” It’s not surprising then that when it came to undermining his own work, the old man was superbly capable. False quotes or invented sources, however, all pale in comparison to his biggest joke. Zampanô writes constantly about seeing. What we see, how we see and what in turn we can’t see. Over and over again, in one form or another, he returns to the subject of light, space, shape, line, color, focus, tone, contrast, movement, rhythm, perspective and composition. None of which is surprising considering Zampanô’s piece centers on a documentary film called The Navidson Record made by a Pulitzer Prize-winning photojournalist who must somehow capture the most difficult subject of all: the sight of darkness itself. Odd, to say the least. At first I figured Zampanô was just a bleak old dude, the kind who makes Itchy and Scratchy look like Calvin and Hobbes. His apartment, however, didn’t come close to anything envisioned by Joel-Peter Witkin or what’s routinely revealed on the news. Sure his place was eclectic but hardly grotesque or even that far out of the ordinary, until of course you took a more careful look and realized—hey why are all these candles unused? Why no clocks, none on the walls, not even on the corner of a dresser? And what’s with these strange, pale books or the fact that there’s hardly a goddamn bulb in the whole apartment, not even one in the refrigerator? Well that, of course, was Zampanô’s greatest ironic gesture; love of love written by the broken hearted; love of life written by the dead: all this language of light, film and photography, and he hadn’t seen a thing since the mid- fifties. He was blind as a bat. Almost half the books he owned were in Braille. Lude and Flaze both confirmed that over the years the old guy had had numerous readers visiting him during the day. Some of these came

from community centers, the Braille Institute, or were just volunteers from USC, UCLA or Santa Monica College. No one I ever spoke with, however, claimed to know him well, though more than a few were willing to offer me their opinions. One student believed he was certifiably mad. Another actress, who had spent a summer reading to him, thought Zampanô was a romantic. She had come over one morning and found him in “a terrible way.” “At first I assumed he was drunk, but the old guy never drank, not even a sip of wine. Didn’t smoke either. He really lived a very austere life. Anyway he wasn’t drunk, just really depressed. He started crying and asked me to leave. I fixed him some tea. Tears don’t frighten me. Later he told me it was heart trouble. ‘Just old heart-ache matters,’ he said. Whoever she was, she must have been really special. He never told me her name.” As I eventually found out, Zampanô had seven names he would occasionally mention: Beatrice, Gabrielle, Anne-Marie, Dominique, Eliane, Isabelle and Claudine. He apparently only brought them up when he was disconsolate and for whatever reason dragged back into some dark tangled time. At least there’s something more realistic about seven lovers than one mythological Helen. Even in his eighties, Zampanô sought out the company of the opposite sex. Coincidence had had no hand in arranging for all his readers to be female. As he openly admitted: “there is no greater comfort in my life than those soothing tones cradled in a woman’s words.” Except maybe his own words. Zampanô was in essence—to use another big word—a graphomaniac. He scribbled until he died and while he came close a few times, he never finished anything, especially the work he would unabashedly describe as either his masterpiece or his precious darling. Even the day before he failed to appear in that dusty courtyard, he was dictating long discursive passages, amending previously written pages and restructuring an entire chapter. His mind never ceased branching out into new territories. The woman who saw him for the last time, remarked that “whatever it was he could never quite address in himself prevented him from ever settling. Death finally saw to that.” With a little luck, you’ll dismiss this labor, react as

Zampanô had hoped, call it needlessly complicated, pointlessly obtuse, prolix—your word—, ridiculously conceived, and you’ll believe all you’ve said, and then you’ll put it aside—though even here, just that one word, “aside”, makes me shudder, for what is ever really just put aside?—and you’ll carry on, eat, drink, be merry and most of all you’ll sleep well. Then again there’s a good chance you won’t. This much I’m certain of: it doesn’t happen immediately. You’ll finish and that will be that, until a moment will come, maybe in a month, maybe a year, maybe even several years. You’ll be sick or feeling troubled or deeply in love or quietly uncertain or even content for the first time in your life. It won’t matter. Out of the blue, beyond any cause you can trace, you’ll suddenly realize things are not how you perceived them to be at all. For some reason, you will no longer be the person you believed you once were. You’ll detect slow and subtle shifts going on all around you, more importantly shifts in you. Worse, you’ll realize it’s always been shifting, like a shimmer of sorts, a vast shimmer, only dark like a room. But you won’t understand why or how. You’ll have forgotten what granted you this awareness in the first place. Old shelters—television, magazines, movies—won’t protect you anymore. You might try scribbling in a journal, on a napkin, maybe even in the margins of this book. That’s when you’ll discover you no longer trust the very walls you always took for granted. Even the hallways you’ve walked a hundred times will feel longer, much longer, and the shadows, any shadow at all, will suddenly seem deeper, much, much, deeper. You might try then, as I did, to find a sky so full of stars it will blind you again. Only no sky can blind you now. Even with all that iridescent magic up there, your eye will no longer linger on the light, it will no longer trace constellations. You’ll care only about the darkness and you’ll watch it for hours, for days, maybe even for years, trying in vain to believe you’re some kind of indispensable, universe- appointed sentinel, as if just by looking you could actually keep it all at bay. It will get so bad you’ll be afraid to look away, you’ll be afraid to sleep.

Then no matter where you are, in a crowded restaurant or on some desolate street or even in the comforts of your own home, you’ll watch yourself dismantle every assurance you ever lived by. You’ll stand aside as a great complexity intrudes, tearing apart, piece by piece, all of your carefully conceived denials, whether deliberate or unconscious. And then for better or worse you’ll turn, unable to resist, though try to resist you still will, fighting with everything you’ve got not to face the thing you most dread, what is now, what will be, what has always come before, the creature you truly are, the creature we all are, buried in the nameless black of a name. And then the nightmares will begin. —Johnny Truant October 31, 1998 Hollywood, CA

What would you do if I didn't leave an ask?

You will find that your house is 1/4th of an inch too long on the inside

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cellsshapedlikestars · 3 years ago

Text

Ok, so it’s probably gonna be a while until the next chapter of help me out (I want to get the second arc mostly worked out before I post anything, like I did for arc one), so I figured I’d share this nonsense little thing I wrote one night while in a melatonin-induced fog.

So here’s a snippet of this Jonsa-tinder-fake-dating fic that I don’t actually have a plot for and therefore may never see the light of day but I liked it so I’m posting it!

(thanks to @jonsa-creatives for the header)

Can you believe this? Sansa had captioned the screenshot she sent to her friends.

Tinder isn't a thing Sansa does all the time – she and Margaery had set up an account for her two years ago after she and Harry split and she uses it occasionally. Sometimes it's nice looking at guys and even flirting with a few of them, though she's never had the nerve to go through with any meetups (she has left more than one guy on read after even the slightest hint they wanted to take things into the real world).

But this is new - or at least she's never seen it before.

His photo had made her pause in her bored swiping (curled up on her couch, blanket wrapped around her like an old woman, heating pad on her lower back, six different snacks on the coffee table that she had sampled and ultimately decided weren't doing it for her or her uterus). Most men on this app take terrible photos, or choose terrible photos, and honestly, this one is no different. At least he's cropped out whoever he's in the photo with, most guys don't even bother to do that. He's not smiling, holding a beer in one hand with his other arm around the cropped out person that is clearly a woman.

He is pretty, though.

She's gotta say, the man bun, the beard, the flannel shirt, the cheap beer – none of it should be doing anything for her. Maybe it's her hormones all out of whack, but for some reason, she paused on his photo.

It wasn't his photo, though, that made her screenshot the profile and send it in a group text to her friends. Can you believe this?

Jon, 29, it starts. Good, fine. Well within her acceptable age range. But the rest of it...

Looking for a date to a wedding. I'm not kidding. Must pretend to be my girlfriend. Some PDA required (holding hands, etc), but feel free to punch me in the face if you're ever uncomfortable. Or just tell me and I'll stop.

**Warnings**

-the bride is my ex and the groom is my half brother

-I am desperate not to show up alone to my ex's wedding

-my dad is a dick and he WILL try to hit on you

-I'm terrible in large groups, extrovert with good social skills preferred

-this will be a full weekend and it's unclear if I can get a room with two beds this last minute

-did I mention the wedding is the third weekend in May?

-I will buy you a new dress for the occasion. You actually won't have to pay for anything, though now that I type this it sounds like I'm looking for an escort and I think that's illegal?

Sansa stares at the profile for too long. Why has she not swiped left?

The first text from one of her friends comes in, followed quickly by more, her phone buzzing almost constantly.

-Omg do it

-He's hot!

-Ok you HAVE to go to this wedding, it sounds like something straight off of Maury

-Yes! Go and then live tweet it for the rest of us

-Am I the only one that thinks this sounds like a trap? Like she'll actually end up in someone's basement?

-Shhh Mya, you're ruining all the fun

-Free dress! Hot boy!

-I literally NEED to know how the ex & half brother happened. I might die if I don't

-Does he have more photos? That one's too blurry

-By “blurry”, Marg means she can't see if he's fit or not

Sansa switches back to Tinder and sees that he does, in fact, have another photo. It's definitely not the shirtless selfie Margaery is looking for, but it makes something in Sansa's chest tighten. Against her better judgment, she screenshots that, too, and sends it.

-Ok, so you've definitely swiped right on him then?

-Of course she has, when has Sansa ever been able to resist a cute dog? I've literally watched her stop mid convo to cross the street and pet a strangers dog. It's honestly rude

-Was it a match???

-PLEASE FIND OUT HOW THE EX AND THE HALF BROTHER ENDED UP TOGETHER

Sansa's heart is pounding in her chest, because she hasn't swiped on him, either way. And now, for some reason, she thinks if she swipes right and they aren't a match, she'll actually feel shitty about it. But she gathers what little courage she has, bolstered by the glass of wine she had with her snack sampling, and swipes right.

They're a match.

#jonsa #jonsa fic #wip wednesday #at this point i give MYSELF whiplash with the things i write #utter nonsense #also my only experience with tinder #is the one my friend and i set up for me while we were drunk one night #that was like 90% a joke #and people still responded to #wild

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averyonelovesjack · 4 years ago

Text

learning to raise a baby ~ daniel seavey

requested: yes:)

Can you please do an cute imagine about y/n and Daniel having a baby together and taking care of the baby and figuring the parenting stuff out together. Ur amazing

summary: follow a few different events in the life of daniel and y/n learning to raise a baby.

warning(s): baby, literally too lazy to edit this i’ll come back later lmao

word count: 2608

author’s note: i have such baby fever omg

disclaimer: i def need to clarify that i am 18 years old and do not have a baby and i have no close friends with babies (in person, at least) therefore this is purely fiction. i watch a LOT (i mean A LOT) of family vloggers and like teen mom accounts raising their kids, so basically all of my knowledge comes from that. i hope no one takes offence to my depiction of it, but my intention is purely just to write this cute fic idea, and i don’t want to pretend like i know anything about parenting or raising a child or anything like that!! okay that’s all!!

I could barely see my feet as I painfully took in another breath of air and started walking forward. Awoken at 3am with terrible back pain and a pool of amniotic fluid at my waist, Daniel and I now rushed to grab our hospital bag and make our way to the labor and delivery section of our nearest hospital.

everything went so fast. before i was actively having a child, it felt like my pregnancy would never end, but now that it’s actually happening and i’m having a child, it felt like pregnancy flew by.

just a few days ago, i was sitting on the countertop in my bathroom, impatiently waiting to see if i was pregnant or not in hopes that daniel wouldn’t get home from the studio early and find me. i had just given daniel the surprise of his lifetime when i woke him up at four am to tell him i was pregnant because i just couldn’t keep it from him anymore to do a fun reveal. i remember how we both cried, too excited to even go back to sleep.

just a few days ago, daniel and i were sitting in my obstetrician’s office as we got to hear our eight week old fetus’ heartbeat for the first time. we both cried. it feels like just a day or two ago we cut into a pink colored cake and found out that our precious baby girl would be coming. all of the breakdowns about what stroller to buy and which crib matches the nursey best felt like just moments ago. and now, all of a sudden, i’m ten hours into labor and i’m ready to push.

pushing was painful, but the thought of holding a sweet babygirl soon just kept me going. daniel squeezed my hand tight, standing by the end of the bed watching our beautiful daughter make her way into the world.

i gave the final push and soon i heard a cry that made everything in the whole world worth it. they say you never truly understand love until you’ve had a child, and as soon as i held our daughter, i felt an overwhelming sense of truth in that statement. i never knew such a distinct moment could be the greatest day of my life, but as soon as i laid my eyes on her, i knew that i would never get a day greater than this one.

our daughter laid on my chest for a while as daniel sat by my head, holding both my hand and hers. eventually, the nurses cleaned her off a bit and wrapped her tightly in a swaddle for daniel to finally hold his daughter. i watched the tears fall from his bluer than ever eyes that never left her little face. by the way she settled in his arms and fell asleep, i knew i was going to have a daddy’s little girl on our hands.

it felt like forever, just watching daniel and our baby getting to know each other. soon enough, though, the doctors finished with the stitches and i heard a knock at the door.

within seconds, both of our parents came into the room, bearing wide smiles. daniel sat in the seat next to me, both of us staring at the beautiful baby in front of us.

“does she have a name?” keri asks, slowly walking up to the two of us, careful not to be too loud.

daniel and i look at each other, and then i give him the nod to tell everyone. “callista avery mae seavey.”

“our little baby callie.” i smile at the name. daniel and i both loved the name callie, but wanted it to be a nickname. avery was after his bandmate who really helped us through this whole preparing to be parents thing. mae was a pretty nickname from my side of the family that was good to separate avery and seavey. our little callie mae.

***

it was three am and both of us were awake to callie’s loud screaming. turns out that daniel and i had a very colicky daughter who, when awake, wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. daniel was in the nursery trying to grab more diapers and wipes that, out of exhaustion, we forgot to restock last night when we ran out. i held callie in our arms, rocking her gently and trying to get her to go back to sleep.

“does she have a dirty diaper?” daniel asks, placing the diapers in the corner of our messy bedroom. a few days into callie’s life, we realized we should’ve left the changing table in our bedroom until she was ready to sleep in the nursey, but both of us were too tired to even think about moving the furniture around. so for now the corner of the room was storage and a changing pad on the bench was our late night changing table.

“i don’t think so.” i answer, giving him an exhausted look. “her diaper isn’t heavy and i tried to feed her, but she doesn’t seem to be hungry. i think she just woke up and is being colicky again.”

“how long did the doctor say the colic will last?” daniel asks.

“she didn’t.” i sigh, going to take a seat on our bed as i continued to calm callie. daniel sat beside me. “go back to sleep, i got her.”

“no, i know you’ve been awake all night. try to go to sleep, i’ve got her.” daniel says, and then takes callie from me. “did you take melatonin tonight?”

“yeah.” i say. “i know your body goes through a lot of changes postpartum, but i’m really not liking the insomnia.”

“okay, well, you lay down, and i’m gonna sing to you both, okay?” daniel says and then starts to rock callie to sleep as i laid beside them. and then he started to sing softly.

***

callie was born a little over three months ago and daniel and i haven’t had a date night since then. when we fearfully realized that last week, jack and anna were both quick to offer some help. we hadn’t felt comfortable leaving callie yet, especially since she wasn’t always the easiest. we had lots of help and people offering, but neither daniel nor i were good at asking for help. that’s definitely something we’re both still working on, especially now that we have a baby.

finally though, jack and anna convinced us. originally, we were going to leave them with daniel’s parents, but anna and jack were pretty convincing. jack had lots of experience since he himself is a dad, and anna was very close with gabbie when she had lavender. jack also decided to invite zach for some more company, which was cute.

daniel and i had a hard time saying goodbye to callie, even though we really were only going to be out for two hours at most. we knew neither of us could stay away for that long.

the restaurant wasn’t too far from the house, which was nice because it cut down on our time away from callie. i think both of us were a little nervous to leave her. we both know that she’s three months old and other people are more than capable of watching her for a few hours, but it’s still hard to not be worried about all of the things we could be missing out on.

“oh my gosh, anna just sent a picture of callie.” daniel says in the middle of our dinner, holding up his phone to show up me the picture of our daughter in the adorable pajamas her aunt bought.

“i miss her.” i admit, knowing he was feeling similarly. “do you think they had a hard time getting her to sleep? i hope she’ll be good for them tonight.”

“i’m sure she was fine.” daniel says, then later . “you know, maybe we should skip dessert. relieve them a little early.”

“she’s growing up so fast.” i tell him. “i’m not ready for her to keep growing.”

“we’re gonna blink and she’s gonna be cursing us out because we wouldn’t let her go out with her friends.” daniel continues. “not that we would do that, because honestly, i’ve always thought we’d be a little cooler than that.”

i laugh at his comment. “oh, we’ll definitely be cooler than that. we’re not gonna be the lame strict parents that doesn’t let their kids go out with their friends.”

“oh definitely.” daniel agrees. “except i will be strict about doors open if someone is over. i don’t care who she’s in her room with, but that door better be open. i am taking no chances.”

“i feel like that’s fair.” i add. “i know we’re parents, but wow, until i think about that future, i kind of forget.”

“i’m very glad that’s a long ways away.” he comments. “i’m barely ready for her to be three months old, we do not need to get ahead of ourselves. take this parenting thing one step at a time.”

“i could not agree more.” i smile, leaning over the table to kiss daniel’s lips gently.

***

i walked out of my one year old’s nursery with her in my arms. we watched as daniel and anna hung balloons up around our california apartment. it’s just about an hour before callie’s first birthday party, and now more than ever, i could not be more grateful for daniel’s family’s offer to help us set up.

rather than fighting with figuring out food for the party, we decided to get it catered. christian and tyler offered to go pick up the food at the restaurant for us, which was extremely helpful. his parents were setting up some decorations around the front of the apartment.

i had just put callie in her adorable dress that i specifically picked out for this party. we weren’t the type to throw parties, so we weren’t 100% sure what to do or what to expect, but we decided to just stick to family and close friends. callie was too young for us to strictly invite her friends over. at this stage in her life, her friends were whoever was at mommy&me that week.

the party was going to be small. daniel’s family, my family, daniel’s bandmates and close friends, and then my close friends.

thankfully, we finished decorating and setting up with about thirty minutes left to spare before the party. rather than worry, i decided to just sit on the couch with anna and daniel. keri took callie from me, wanting to spend some time with her granddaughter, and giving daniel and i a brief break before the party started.

“i cannot believe she’s a year old.” anna exclaims to me. “you guys have been parents for a year. that’s crazy to think about.”

“it’s definitely a little bit weird.” i giggle in response.

“you guys make it look so easy, being young parents.” anna says. “i know i’m younger than you guys, but still, i cannot imagine having a kid anytime soon.”

“i didn’t think i would either.” i tell anna. “for me, i wasn’t really ready until i met dani. i realized that i was ready because i wanted to do this with him. it’s different for everyone, i’m sure, but at least personally, that’s how i knew we could be parents.”

daniel wraps his arm around me on the couch, kissing my cheek softly. “yeah, it’s the same for me. when you find someone you want to do everything with, it gets easier to imagine yourself parenting together.”

“that is really cute.” anna says. “this is what i mean, when i say you make it look easy!!”

“it’s definitely not easy.” i laugh. “but it’s a little bit easier when you work as a team. we talk things through and decide together, instead of just making decisions separately. it’s a lot easier to feel like you’re making the right decision when you talk things through.”

“and that is all the parenting advice you get, because while i am most definitely ready to be a dad, i am not ready to be an uncle.” daniel says, getting protective over his younger sister.

“being an uncle is way easier than being a dad.” anna laughs. “but trust me, i’m not having kids any time soon. at least not intentionally.”

“well, i have to be the cool uncle. someone’s gotta bail the kid out of jail and hide it from you.” daniel jokes.

“first of all, why would my kid go to jail??” anna asks. “and second of all, you might’ve been first in the race for cool uncle before callie arrived, but since becoming a dad, you’ve fallen behind. the cool uncle can’t have kids, that’s not how that works.”

“well i’ll break that standard, because i’ll be the cool uncle.”

“i just want to be the aunt that gives good advice at one o’clock in the morning.” i tell them. “someone’s gotta do it. i expect that for callie, anna, so i will do that for your kids.”

“oh, of course. nothing but the best for callie. and future kids.” anna agrees. “speaking of, future kids? any thoughts on that? mom wants me to scope that out.”

“eventually.” i smile. “sooner rather than later.”

***

daniel took callie on a walk. he’s been really adamant about spending at least thirty minutes a day on a walk with her. now that she’s getting a lot more balance and ability to take a lot more steps, he loves taking her to the playground a few blocks from our apartment. usually, i like to go with them, but today i made up an excuse about things i had to get done at home.

i felt especially grateful for that routine of his today, because i needed a few minutes to myself. i’ve been feeling particularly nauseated recently, and as soon as i woke up the other day, i could feel that i was pregnant again. in the past, i had always thought that when i was paranoid about being late, but now that i’ve actually experienced pregnancy, i can feel that there’s a little fetus inside of me.

daniel and i haven’t exactly been trying, but we haven’t been taking as many precautions as we were when callie was first born. now that she’s over a year old, we feel better about having another baby. we weren’t too rushed, because we lot spending time with just our little girl, but we didn’t want to wait too long and have her grow up without a sibling. having a sibling was always a priority of daniel and i’s. seeing as we both grew up with siblings, we know how important it is to have a sibling.

my stomach fluttered with butterflies as i followed the instructions on the pregnancy test. after realizing i was pregnant with callie, i had bought a ton of tests that i didn’t end up using because it was so obvious that i was indeed pregnant. that was extremely helpful for right now when i don’t have time to go sit in traffic for thirty minutes just to go to the pharmacy.

i sat on top of the counter, leaving the pregnancy test face down while i tried to scroll through tiktok and distract myself. it was probably the slowest five minutes of my life, other than finding out about callie.

the timer went off on my phone. i take a deep breath and carefully lift the pregnancy test off the marble bathroom counter.

pregnant.

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