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ghost-timelord · 5 months ago

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Dwayne's first Meeting [TLBxFtM OC 1]

1.1k words

July 1985 The boardwalk is alight with laughter, lights, and the incessant ringing of bells at the game stalls. The air is filled with the smell of fries and hot dogs and funnel cakes- and, of course, blood. This is Santa Carla, after all. The Murder Capitol of the World. The night is hot and bright and humid, the sound of the sea and rides and people doing well to hide the sounds of any unrest in the crowd, the sounds of any wayward souls now missing and reduced to simple faded paper posters on streetcorners and telephone poles. There being as many missing people and found bodies as there are, of course there's theories that shift depending on who you ask. Some say it's a serial killer, and others say it's been happening too long for it to just be one, that it has to be a cult or a mentorship, and others still say that most of the missing just crawled off and OD'd somewhere they won't be found. All of those people call the vampire theory unrealistic and too far out there.

Yet there's a group of punks, out there night after night for years without aging. This late at night they stand out a bit- most of the humans, by now, have shed their stylish jackets and spikes due to how sweaty they'd gotten through the day and worry about them rusting due to the unseen sea-spray at night. 'Most' being the key word, as there's another dressed in a way that stands well out, in a light white turtleneck, round glasses, and a long dark coat, sliding alone like a ghost through the crowds like he's been here a while. Dwayne, the tallest of the vampire boys, watches him briefly before turning back to Marko and David. "Hey, hey! No powers, no cheating, none of that!" Marko yelps, trying to wrestle David, laughing, back to the side so he can beat him at no-powers Pinball. "Shut up, you're playing wrong-" David yells back around their shared laughter, reaching for one of the machine's side bumpers. Dwayne looks up and around for Paul, the last of their group, before spotting his teased up blonde hair disappearing behind the canvass tarp of a stall, followed by some chick in a little skirt. He hums then brushes his long hair back with his hand before sliding off into the crowd after the...well, guy, he's assuming, to the end of the boardwalk. Visually it isn't the easiest to tell, and he doesn't really care as he's starting to get hungry. The turtleneck might get in the way a little. Maybe he can sell the coat or boots when he's done, they both look to be of alright quality. He can feel his fangs elongate and his mouth water as he approaches their near oblivious form, perched up on the back of a bench, their brown hair fluffed in the wind, their pale skin seeming to be tinted only by the warm, quiet lantern-style lights down this way. Then the wind shifts, turning back towards Dwayne and he freezes as their scent hits his nose. Rosemary and fresh baked bread, and beneath those sweet and human scents it's nothing but rancid blood and wet fur, and beneath even that is a calming scent of a little bit of pine, reminding Dwayne of the beginning of his long trek this far west, a long, long time ago. The werewolf turns to Dwayne and lifts a spindly pale hand adorned with rings to wave before sputtering as some of their own hair flies into their mouth from the wind. He almost laughs from the absurdity of it. "Vampire." The wolf says, a little tense but keeping a veneer of calm up as he beacons Dwayne closer. He scowls and steps closer, confident that he can beat them in a fight if it comes down to it, and leans against a railing out of their reach. "...Werewolf." He coldly responds, crossing his arms, hiding the light claws extending from his nail beds and not taking his eyes off of the werewolf. The brunet remains as he was, perched up, before slowly pulling a notebook out of his pocket and a pencil from behind his ear before he looks around and starts to quick-sketch something off in the distance, long past him and his slightly confused face. He slips behind the bench to the other side of them and looks over the shorter man's shoulder to see what he's drawing only for his undead heart to flutter a little. The werewolf is drawing his prize possession, his motorcycle, in line between David and Paul's. He decides not to say anything about it, instead just standing tall and intimidating, not giving any information that would put his boys or himself in danger. "Vampyr?" The wolf asks, sitting up to stretch their shoulders a little before hunching back into his drawing position. Dwayne just grunts in response. "Got a name?" He asks, glancing back at Dwayne briefly. "I- Of course I've got a name, what kind of fucking question is that?" "Can you tell me it?"

By the time the words fully leave the werewolf's mouth, Dwayne finds himself back in the middle of the crowds with Marko's hand on his arm. "There you are," the blonde says, his curls a little fluffed out from the speed the two of them were moving at. "David wanted to know where you went, and you know the rule-" "Yeah yeah, sharing is caring." He says, forcing himself to relax and letting Marko walk him back to Paul and David. Paul leans down a little and lets David wipe some schmutz, blood, from the corner of his mouth before he stands back up and scares some human worker away. "So?" David asks, turning to Dwayne and Marko as he leans back on the wooden partition. "so?" Dwayne says back, a little defensive, before looking around and getting closer. "...Werewolf. One of them, as far as I can tell. Male but not territorial, was not going for a fight." He says conspiratorially. David's smile falls, and Paul immediately looks up and around before turning back to Dwayne. "Where at?" He asks. "End of the boardwalk, where the ladies used to watch the horse racing on the beach." He says. The others nod, remembering the ladies sort of fondly- many of them had stayed in the hotel back in the day. A few of them had even perished in it during the earthquake. "When do you think we can leave? We can get food somewhere else." "I don't know, you pulled me away while he was drawing our bikes-" Paul chuffs a little and bites down a laugh. "Drawing? our bikes?" David asks, half amused and part territorial. "Well, we'll have to keep an eye out on that pup, won't we?" "Yeah, a pack wouldn't be good here, not for them." Paul says, insatiable as ever as he ever so slightly leers at another human, at more prey, before elbowing Dwayne and nudging him over towards them.

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#writing #writers on tumblr #werewolves #werewolf #dwayne lost boys #the lost boys #vampires #lgbtq #lost boys 1987 #lost boys dwayne #lost boys movie #lost boys paul #lost boys david #tlb 1987 #the lost boys 1987 #david the lost boys #lost boys marko

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samaeljigoku · 8 months ago

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On-the-fly concept sketches for some Part 6 OC Stand Users I made for fun. Don't be surprised if you see me reuse their faces in non-JoJo art, though. All four are villainous in nature, or at the least very shady. They only have single names for now but keeping with convention, are named after music, designers or fashion. (If you have ideas for full names please suggest!) Short profiles from left to right:

Mitsouko | Stand: Miss Paramount An eccentric who seems shy, but will steal your heart - and your pancreas. The guy to ask about horror films, and human organs, or both. Hoards money and things that he finds rare like a hermit demon. Other prisoners often go to him to borrow cash, but the price he asks in return is often more horrible or strange than it was worth. Is Vionnet's dedicated lifelong partner, and his Stand even resembles her a little.

I also thought it would be interesting to have a male character with a feminine Stand, as that's something rare in the actual series.

Vionnet | Stand: Gloomy Sunday A con-woman and low-key serial killer who used her Stand to steal decades of youth and beauty from the victims of her numerous fake businesses, and add them to her own lifespan. Even after being caught, she plans on giving exactly zero of those years back, and has likely stolen time from her cellmates in prison, albeit she now has to be more sneaky about it.

Baccarat | Stand: Iceblink Luck A melancholic, would-be goth rocker with a sinister vibe that's hard to pinpoint, like he's always itching to tell someone where the bodies are hidden. His Stand apparently skinned a theatre full of people alive during a concert, something that was supposedly "an accident". He now sells dubious cigarettes in the halls of Green Dolphin Street.

Lopez | Stand: Worldwide Torture A former convict promoted to guard, an act met with general horror but not really surprise. Ironically, she was in prison in the first place for "reckless, absurd abuses of power the sane mind struggles to comprehend". What exactly these were is still unclear, and while cagey about the details, she is still quite proud of the fact.

I haven't designed Stands for the latter, but the first two have designs here.

#art #oc art #sketchbook #jojo #jjba oc #jjba #original art

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myrskytuuli · 10 months ago

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Welp, I finally watched Longlegs...it was a dissapointment.

I was pretty hyped for Longlegs ever since the really intriguing trailer and very good marketing campaign started, and even went out of my way to avoid spoilers before seeing the movie. With expectations so high for another artistic, slow-paced, psychological horror ala Hereditary or the VVitch, I have to say I was left wanting. The more I rotated the movie in my head, the more dissapointed I get.

Warning here be spoilers!

Longlegs is a story about an FBI agent who displays slight psychic abilities on her first case and is then assigned to help with a perplexing serial killer case, the Longlegs case. In longlegs case all forensic evidence suggests a murder-suicide of a family, and cryptogram letters left on the crime scenes and signed by "Longlegs" are the only hint that someone or something else has been involved with the murders. The main character, Lee Harker, eventually finds out that the murders are commited via devil-worshiping man called Longlegs, who makes a life-sized, Satan-infested, doll resembling the family's daughter, gifting it to the family, which then possess the dad to kill the family and himself. In the end, Lee figures out that she was supposed to be one of the victims as s child and that her mom made a deal with the devil to help with the doll-murder-scheme in exchange for Lee's safety.

Let's start with the biggest, most obvious one. The titular character Longlegs is a transmisogynistic caricature who could just as well be a distasteful Daily Wire sketch spliced between the scenes of a serious horror movie. Longlegs, both the movie and the character, relies way too hard on the expectation that you will accept a close up of a middle-aged man in a badly applied lipstick to be a jumpscare in itself. But we will return to Longlegs the character little later. First, I want to talk about Longlegs the movie.

Longlegs is both too much and not enough. It markets itself as an occult detective mystery, but unfortunately instead of getting best of both worlds, it strips both the detective story and the occult story off of its most enjoyable elements. For a detective mystery there isn't much detecting, and for occult movie there isn't much occult.

A lot of occult horrors have gone out of their way to base their stories around real occult histories and as a consequence are full of easter eggs for those who recognise the historical nods. Hereditary references the Lesser Key of Solomon, The VVitch based its horror on real 1600 century archival texts, and even As Above So Below followed real alchemical traditions. This allowed those movies to avoid infodumbing lore, while still having internally consistant mythology that you can dig deeper into, if you want to. Longlegs does not do this. It handwaves towards the idea of satanic occult without ever creating its own internal mythology nor relying on one consistant real-life source. Which for me, personally, felt like a very frustrating experience, because you can't connect the dots of why whatever occult means are used.

Why was Lee getting visions of snakes? Because snakes are spooky and associated with the devil. Why were there bible quotes left at the crime scenes? Because they come from the Revelation and the revelation is the spooky chapter of the bible. Why were these murders being commited? Because Lucifer was bored. Why did the haunted dolls need vibrating metal spheres inserted inside their heads in order to be haunted? So that the doctor can put a stetoschope on one and hear evil vibrations. Why dolls? Because the director read a book about voodoo and found the idea of symphatetic magic spooky. (Not what symphatetic magic means btw. It has nothing to do with christian magic tradition or possession)

lacklustre magical theory could be excused, and I have excused in many other movies, with otherwise solid or entertaining plots, but this movie about catching a serial killer does not actually offer the viewer any clues to put together or follow the detective along the trail of mystery. rememeber that slightly psychic part? A huge mistake in my opinion, which cripples the movie for no reason. (Also, I really felt like the scene of the FBI having a psychic testing program was a leftover from an entirely different movie. Why was it there, what did it contribute??)

Lee is a passive vessel being led around by her psychic visions to every clue and revelation. She doesn't figure things out for herself, instead she receives answers from her visions or by her sixth sense, or by other people telling her the answers. She solves the Longlegs cryptogram because the Cipher is literally handed to her by Longlegs. She finds the picture of Longlegs by being guided to it by her sixth sense, and finally sees the final plotwist of the movie in a dream narrated to her by her mom. There is an actual literal flashback scene that explains the twist, without any lead up of the puzzle pieces slotting into place. As a mystery, it's bad.

okay but why is Longlegs even here? No, but for real. This is one of those movie tries to do too much moments. The movie's focus is supposed to be on Lee, solving a murder mystery, and her strained relationship with her mom, who is secretely killing people. But instead of letting that plot develop and breathe, too much time is spent following Longlegs, who is what? Middle-manager of this scheme? The scheme which goes like this:

Lucifer wants to kill people -> Lucifer contracts a socially maladjusted crossdresser named Longlegs to build dolls which Lucifer can then possess -> Longlegs contracts Ruth Harker to knock on people's doors dressed as a nun and smuggle the dolls inside people's houses -> Lucifer, once inside the house, influences the dad to murder his family and himself -> ???????profit

It's halfway through the movie, why, instead of getting any development for the main character, am I watching Lucifer's doll guy fail at making small talk at the convenience store???!!!!!

Okay, joking aside, lets talk about the transmisogyny and ableism.

Longlegs is an older man(?) who dresses in women's clothes and wears grotesque amounts of makeup, while exhibiting behaviours best described as autistic stims, and lives in Lee's mom's basement.

His mannerisms osciliate between childish deference to aggressive cussing in a way that brings to mind stereotypes of low-fucntioning autistic behaviour. It's very uncomfortable to watch and not in the way the movie wants. I think there is something almost darkly ironic in the way that thorought the whole movie, we never actually see Longlegs, the titular movie monster, do anything evil, and the entire loadbearing part of holding the movie's uncanny athmosphere rests on us finding Longlegs' behaviour creepy without seeing him commit any attrocities. Sure, the uncanniness is supposed to come from the fact that we know that he is the killer, but the movie doesn't want to show us that part. Imagine watching Friday the 13th but you only see Jason doing grocery shopping with his hockey mask on and hear about other characters talking about the murders that happened off-screen. no seriously, why is Longlegs here?

We never find out anything about Longlegs, why he worships Lucifer, why he started the murder doll-scheme with Lucifer in the first place, or what his history is. In the movie Longlegs, Longlegs doesn't matter. Lee finds a picture of him in her home and In the next scene he has been arrested. Longlegs kills himself during the police interview, and Lee goes off to find the actual important part of the mystery, her mom. So....why did we spend all that time with Lucifer's doll guy? Wouldn't all that time have been better spent slowly finding clues that reveal Lee's mom's as the perpetrator???

The metaphor of Longlegs is confused at best, if it even is supposed to have one, which I personally doubt. Sure, the director says is is about the darkness in us all and about families, but...is it?

Longlegs makes gestures towards wanting to be a movie about family violence, but it never arrives at it. The outside influence satanic panic is played comletely straight. There could be something about Ruth, the church lady, being allowed inside family homes because she looks trusthworthy, and bringing with her forces which lead to family violence, but the fact that the force causing the violence is literally the devil in league with a vaguelly inhuman (does he have magic powers? Maybe?) crossdresser kind of kneecaps that interpretation. Allowing strangers inside your suburban home is the root of all evil in this movie. Even Ruth joined in leagues with Longlegs under duress, after home invasion.

The deepest the movie gets is that sometimes parents lie to their children and that makes those children distant from their parents. But that's the literal thing that happens in the movie, this movie isn't really a metaphor for anything in the way that Hereditary or Nope or any other horror movie that seamlessly functions as both good in-universe storie and out-universe fable.

Okay, so there is one very redeeming part this movie has and it's Bill Clinton's giant portrait looming over way more scenes than you would expect, with the energy that I would best describe as Laura Palmer's photograph in the end credits of Twin Peaks. Somehow, Bill Clinton is haunting this narrative.

#longlegs

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radiodormouse · 1 month ago

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The Unfunnies by Mark Millar— Review by RadioDormouse

The Unfunnies prioritizes shock value over substance, presenting a series of grotesque scenes in lieu of a plot or compelling protagonist. As someone who appreciates underground comics, horror films, and "extreme" literature (also known as splatterpunk), I’m open to gritty themes when they offer an interesting perspective. However, The Unfunnies falls flat in that regard.

Unlike the cream of the underground comic or horror crop—which uses disturbing content to challenge the audience—The Unfunnies frequently employs cartoonish dialogue as a jarring contrast to its dark subject matter. Characters often break the fourth wall in the style of vintage Gold Key or Archie comics, but this is juxtaposed with disturbing contexts, such as a character being arrested for possessing child pornography. While this contrast can make certain scenes unsettling, it quickly becomes apparent that this is the only brush in Millar’s palette, and it grows tiresome.

Even when a more intriguing supernatural horror storyline emerges toward the end, it remains bogged down by filler content and shock tactics. A more structured approach with developed character arcs and organic plot progression could have elevated the series into a memorable horror comic. The premise—a cartoonist’s fictional world degenerating as he becomes a serial killer—is strong and could have provided a solid foundation. But rather than exploring that concept, Millar leans on disjointed, depraved vignettes, making the series feel more like a string of tasteless sketches than a cohesive story.

Millar has stated that The Unfunnies was intended as a comic counterpart to disturbing ensemble films like Happiness or Magnolia. Unfortunately, it lacks the believable character motivations and thematic interconnectedness that make those films work. Instead of resonating as an ensemble piece or anthology, it comes off as a scattered assortment of sketches made solely to offend.

Ultimately, The Unfunnies hints at interesting ideas but struggles to realize them due to its reliance on shock and cynicism. Millar is capable of producing fascinating characters and compelling narratives, but here he seems sidetracked by juvenile tangents. The result is a story that, while occasionally intriguing, is too unfocused to deliver on its potential.

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bfiaflbox · 1 year ago

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This is how it starts - Chapter 3

Pairing: Matty x Original Female Character Warnings: swearing

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

The next day I have a client who's not very talkative so I have time to weigh my options during work. I could text Matty and just tell him the date is off. Or I could go on the date and feel weird the whole time. Or I could just ignore it? Or I could fake my death and leave the country and tell Carly to give him my best and to enjoy life with his girlfriend. Great, I love overthinking. After a few hours of trying to figure out where and how I got the wrong Idea about Matty and about the flirting and about the date that's definitely a date because he called it that multiple times, I decide to text Matty.

Me: Hey Matty, I had a lovely time getting to know you but I don‘t think it‘s a good idea to go forward with this date on Friday. I wish you all the best.

There. That's good. Simple, unmistakably clear. I feel sad though. I liked Matty. He was refreshingly not boring and great to hang out with and nice to look at.

I go to the chat with Carly

Me: Did you know he had a girlfriend?

Carly: who? Matty? He‘s single as far as I know.

Me: No, apparently he isn't.

Carly: That‘s weird. Adam didn’t say anything. How did you find out?

Me: He was at my place and she called him, he ended the call telling her he loved her and then quickly left. Almost like he had a bad conscience.

Carly: That‘s weird.

I put my phone in my pocket and clean up the shop. I check the appointments for the next day, see that I still have to finish the drawing for my client tomorrow and get out my iPad to see the state of the rough sketch I made when they first made the appointment. I draw for a few hours, totally focussed on the task at hand. It's already dark outside when I'm happy with the design.

I get out my phone to check the time and see that Matty texted back.

Matty: honestly, that bums me out. What happened to change your mind?

Is he playing dumb? But fine, if he wants me to spell it out to him...

Me: I don’t want to be the girl you cheat on your girlfriend with.

He answers in a matter of seconds.

Matty: What girlfriend? Matty: Did you read something in the tabloids? It‘s all made up, you know?

Me: No?! I mean the girl that called you the other night? Danielle? Denise? Whatever! You told her you loved her??

Matty: Hannah

Matty: Darling

Fuck him, calling me darling right now!

Matty: That was literally my mother.

Oh. Oh.

Well now I'm completely mortified. The idea of faking my death and leaving the country seems more and more appealing.

Matty: But just to be completely clear I don't have a girlfriend. The last one broke up with me a few months ago, thanks for the reminder.

Me: Sorry to hear that.

Matty: No you're not :D

Me: The date on Friday is still off though, the floor just opened and will swallow me now. byeeeeee

Matty: I'll be at your place at seven

///

Friday rolls around and I'm nervous. I'm always nervous before a date because the whole spiel of do they like me and do I like them and are they a serial killer or a trustworthy person is terrifying and nerve wracking. But the Idea of a date with Matty is taking nerve wracking to a whole new level, especially after what went down the other day. I'm obsessing over my outfit and if it was the right choice and am just considering if I have time to change again when my doorbell rings. Ok, no 5th outfit change then. I grab my coat, check for my keys and leave my apartment. Matty is waiting in front of my building, big smile on his face.

"Hi! You look lovely" he greets me. "And other generic things to say when picking up your date" I jokingly snark and raise an eyebrow. Fucking hell where did that come from, he was just being nice! "Will you take the fucking compliment? Jesus" he laughs. "Fine, yeah, sorry, that was harsh. Thanks. You look lovely as well!" "I know" he retorts. "Talk about being able to take a compliment" I snort. "By the way, where are we going?" "Well I thought... ok tell me if you think this is lame but there's this small museum that shows an exhibition on 80s industrial punk zines and also some graphic design and photos from that era and I thought it'd be cool but like I said if you think this is lame we can totally do something else but I kinda wanna se it, I'm really interested in that kind of shit but haven't had the time to go there, no hard feelings if you don't wanna see it, I was just..." "Matty!" I interrupt his ramblings. He looks at me with raised eyebrows, I continue "that sounds quite very interesting, let's go there".

After about 15 minutes of walking we enter the courtyard of what looks like a former industrial building. We cross the courtyard to the entrance of the small museum. The exhibition is really just one room. The walls are filled with black and white photographs, pages from said zines and posters advertising gigs from 35 years ago of bands called Einstürzende Neubauten, Killing Joke and Skinny Puppy. Except for the former, none of the bands ring a bell but to be fair, 80s industrial rock isn't what I hear when I want to sing in the shower. I enjoy the aesthetic of it all, though. I also enjoy watching Matty who looks like a child seeing a Christmas tree for the first time. "Wow, you see, this is totally interesting, the scene back then was so DIY, really down to earth. They literally created all that stuff themselves." he muses. "There’s not many generative alternative scenes left, nowadays." He goes on to talk about bands like Slowdive and what he calls garage pop stuff. I just observe him. I'm not gonna lie, I haven't heard many of the bands he's mentioning but he's in his element and I love how passionate he is. After a while he looks at me and kind of stops himself. "Sorry, I... I'm really enjoying this, I'm probably rambling, it's just all so cool!" but it's so endearing. He's not afraid to like things. Unironically. "We should get going though, I reserved a table for us".

///

Half an hour later we sit down in a rather fancy looking restaurant and a waiter hands us a menu. "So...", Matty starts "how many kids do you want to have?" "Oh sod off, you!", we both laugh. "Haha, sorry, couldn't help it." I look around and start to feel kind of out of place. The people here are posh, there's no other word for it. I can't help but notice that I stick out like a sore thump with the tattoos all over my body and the kind of minimalist casual attire I had chosen for tonight. It's not a good feeling. I try to distract myself with the menu but metaphorically gulp when I see the prices, way out of my league. I get nervous, look over to Matty who's looking relaxed as ever. Right, right, I almost forgot he's a rockstar. Also out of my league. I refuse to let the uneasy feeling that's starting take over. Be who you are, face it head on, talk about it. I put the menu down and fold my fingers over it.

"Ok, I'm just gonna say it like it is: All I can afford here is a glass of water and a side salat without going hungry for the rest of the month. Yep, that's embarrassing but it is what it is, I'm a barely not-starving artist, not a rockstar, I already got my sister in law that awfully fancy pan and there's still the cozzie livs. Soooo, we might have to stop by a chip shop later. Or, I don't know, you have to pay" I say the last part before thinking better of it. Great. Talk about money, that's always such a good topic, not at all laced with all kinds of prejudice and negativity.

"Hm. That's a bummer, I thought you were paying", Matty hasn't even looked up from the menu.

I look at him with a raised eyebrow. He puts the menus down and places one hand over mine. "Darling, this is a date date, you're not paying for shit. Relax, it's ok. I'm not one of the guys who thinks a woman owes them sex when they pay for dinner. Also, I think, Carly would slap me if she found out I made you pay"

I laugh at that and relax a little. "I don't even know what half the words on here mean" I admit in a sort of whiny tone. "Is it rude if I google? Like, what's vadouvan spice? or Acquerello risotto?" at that, Matty just laughs. "I've got no fucking clue, to be honest. Ok I'll order us something and the next time we go to a restaurant that's less..." he waves around "...this?" "The next time, huh? Someone's feeling confident" "Yeah, I have to downplay how embarrassed I am about the fact that my choice of restaurant makes you uncomfortable by appearing overly confident, don't mind me." "God, you're such a self-aware millennial" We both laugh before I continue "Speaking of embarrassed: who the fuck has their mother saved under her first name?" "It's her name, what else would you like me to call her?" he sounds mockingly defensive. "I don't know? Mum lesser three?" "Lesser three?" "Yeah the little..." I wave my fingers, trying to convey the < 3 symbols "...heart thingy" "That's so gay" he laughs.

The waiter comes back and we order some fancy sounding dishes. "So, Matty, I have a question" "Ask away" "Would you rather kill a chicken with your bare hands or live with the chicken for a year" "Does the chicken have to come on tour with me?" "It sure does" "Yeah, then I'm gonna kill the chicken, I'm not dealing with a chicken on a tourbus" he laughs. "Ok fair, I don't blame you" He suddenly stills and his face sours, his gaze is fixed on a point behind me. I study his expression for a second and try to figure it out but come up with nothing. I want to see what seems to have turned his mood but as soon as I try to turn my head, Matty grabs my hand and clears his throat and wants to focus my attention back on him.

„What is it?“

„Nothing“

„You’re a shit liar“ I laugh.

„I don’t lie“ he says seriously.

„Like… ever?“

„Yeah. Ever since I got clean I try to not lie. Lying was the worst part about being an addict“

„Ok, wait, we just brushed three subjects in five seconds, I‘m getting whiplash.“ how did this conversation take this turn all of a sudden?

„Sorry, I‘m a lot“ he sounds sad now.

„No, Matty. It‘s fine“, I try to lighten the mood with my tone. „just… what’s going on?“

„Wait here, ok?“ he gets up and vanishes in the direction of the bar.

Well that leaves me baffled. I’m not annoyed or sad, just surprised. I play the conversation back in my head and try to figure out what nerve I hit that made his mood change that abruptly. I start to feel small and weird. Like I definitely don't belong here.

A few minutes later, Matty comes back, stops at the table and just says "Let's leave, please?"

I look at him and see that his expression conveys a sense of urgency. I get up, grab my coat and let him guide me out of the place. On my way out I meet the eyes of a giggling woman who looks at me knowingly. I frown at her and try to make sense of it all.

Once we're out on the street, Matty starts walking without saying a word. I follow him, although I don't really know why. The vibe is off, to say the very least. We round a corner and I really don't feel comfortable anymore. I stop.

"Matty, what's going on?"

He turns around to face me, clears his throat and sighs. "There was a woman at the restaurant that took photos of us." I suspect it's the one that looked at me like she just hit a jackpot when we left. "She's probably gonna sell it to the tabloids and you're gonna be on the news tomorrow. At least it's going to be all over the internet."

I stay silent because I really don't know what to say now. Is this what it's like for him when he goes out in public?

"I'm sorry, Hannah, I can't do this to you"

"You're not doing anything"

"I am though. Like, when you're around me you're gonna end up in the crossfire of hateful comments because, you see, I'm a really bad person according to the internet. I fucked up, said the wrong thing, laughed at the wrong time and they hold everything against me, call me a Nazi or worse things. And everybody who's around me is guilty by association. I don't care anymore but I can't do this to you." he looks sad, almost like he's close to tears. I don't know what to say that might make things better. He must feel lonely. I want to tell him that I don't care, that I like him for who he is and that I will deal with it if that's what it takes but before I can open my mouth to say anything he just says "I'm sorry", turns around and walks away.

I just stand there and try to process what just happened. It doesn't take long for me to get angry at Matty. Fuck him for leaving me here, standing in the street like an idiot. He didn't even give me a chance to process this. What does he mean it's going to be all over the internet? A feeling of helplessness creeps up at me. I hate feeling this way. My heart hurts and I start feeling very sad. I can't process all of this right now and decide to just turn around and head home.

#matty fic #matty healy #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #the1975fanfic #matty healy x oc #this is how it starts

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deadboyswalking · 1 year ago

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Okay, it's kind of annoying trying to be a Hazbin Hotel fan because I FIRMLY BELIEVE that any canon character/plot information needs to be put into the actual show or the Helluva Boss companion show. You should not need to dig through random social media posts from the creator, online music videos, old sketches and livestreams, possibly canon or uncanon pilot episodes and clips, Instagram roleplay accounts, etc. in order to string together key information about the world of the show or its characters.

I don't care what Vivziepop says about the world or characters in outside interviews or social media! Put it in the actual show or else I'm not considering it to be canon. Oh, Alastor was a serial killer in life who was mistaken for a deer and shot? Great, put that in the actual show or else it's just headcanons.

It's a great show but this is fucking frustrating as someone who HASN'T been following the development timeline for years.

#hazbin hotel

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urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites · 1 year ago

Note

Helloo <3 I’d like to make a fandom ship request! Heathers, Texas Chainsaw Massacre and/or the DC universe would be wonderful :D

My name is Jupiter, my pronouns are they/she, and I’m a heavily female-presenting nonbinary sapphic! I’m 5 feet and 8 inches tall, but I usually wear heels and platforms that make me a lot taller. I’m of mixed descent (African-Japanese) and brown-skinned with lots of freckles and moles. My hair is 4C, and I always style my Afro to have bear ears!! I think it’s really cute to do, so my head always has two little puffs at the top. My style is mostly coquette since I’m a coquette girly, but I’m also open to pastel goth, Yume Kawaii, and Decora Kei 💖💖

Personality wise, my friends say I’m pretty much the mom of the group lol. I like checking in on my friends whenever I can, and I always make sure to bring around snacks with me in case someone (including myself) gets hungry. I like to think I’m great with kids, and I’ve actually babysitter a couple who have called me Mama! Almost collapsed to the floor in cuteness-aggression fueled tears, but I think that’s a pretty normal reaction :}} Besides all of that, I’m generally a bubbly person and I don’t care about social norms all that much. Maybe it’s cuz I’m autistic, but I don’t care if people think it’s strictly romantic to kiss someone - I kiss my friends all the time and I love showing them affection, especially since some of them really need it

As for my hobbies, I love love LOVE crocheting! My mom actually taught me how to make my own bags and purses, and I’ve sold a few when I was younger. Arts and crafts is a huge passion for me - whether it’s painting, sketching, digital drawing, whatever!! I enjoy it all, and I make free commissions for my friends too. I also like to cook and bake, which are two skills I’ve been learning since I was 11. And when I’m not making art or cooking, I also love a good ol’ self care routine! Face masks, bubble baths, pedicures, the whole shebang. I’ve struggled with my mental health a lot over the years, so spoiling myself is something I’m trying to do a lot more now that school is almost over

Fun fact about me; I’m not southern, but my family always says I act like it. I say “y’all” constantly and I tend to call people things like sugar, sweetheart, baby, honey, etc.

Aaaand that’s it! Would love to see who you pick for me. Have the most wonderful day, sweets<3

Your Fandom Ships: Sissy Slaughter (Texas Chainsaw Massacre) and Selina Kyle (Aka Catwoman, DCU)

Explanation: first things first I think that she thinks you’re insanely hot like she doesn’t see anyone anyone like you around I mean from your height which you’re already tall but when you wear those heels whoa what makes her jelly… I mean usually her brother gets all the pretty victims, but she definitely thinks that she’s going to keep you for herself. she thinks you’re adorable and she loves your hyper femininity. She is obsessed with you (literally)… and your style. It almost makes you seem more innocent and cute and she absolutely has a corruption kink. she thinks that it’s adorable that you’re the mom of the friend group and absolutely supports it because she’s often the one that has to take care of her family so she absolutely forgets it because she’s the only one who knows how to do things like sewing around her family, and, she thinks that your attractive whenever you take up the leading role in your friend group. She also doesn’t really take notice to a lot of social norms because she’s been in and out of a lot of cults in her life and things like that and also you know she’s a serial killer but she’s just kind of loopy and I don’t feel like she pays much attention to what other people think so she gets that and I think that she’s also very good with your autism like she would absolutely understand if you ever got overstimulated or if he didn’t like certain textures or anything like that she would be on it and she would be the most caring out of the family about things like that. But I don’t think she cares about and she was definitely in a lot of cults where it was very casual to be sexual and things like that so I don’t feel like she sees kissing as an entirely sexual thing either she sees it is more of a friendly thing too. She loves that you can crochet and I feel like if you ever made her a purse or a bag or anything like that she would wear it in such pride and she would never take it off and if anyone made fun of it, they would for sure get their throat slip, but she just loves everything you make and thinks that it’s really adorable. She also is a pretty good artist I feel like and she would draw with you and draw around the house because she lives out in the country where there’s very very pretty views so I feel like she would help you draw those and draw some on her own and paint and things like that and ask for your love of skin care I feel like she would totally have a girls night with you or you guys both just do your skin care. Do it up do the whole thing and do your entire routine and I feel like she would just love that and how makes her feel and she feels like a pretty little princess, and she rarely gets pampered, she’s used to that farm girl lifestyle. Also, I can see this being really cute for you. You say that you’re not southern but act like it but sissy is legitimately southern and I think you guys calling each other sugar honey Sweetheart things like that would be absolutely adorable and I shifted this so bad because honestly, I could make like a little comic about it or something because of how much I shipped this I just like you calling each other sugar, honey, and she would definitely be obsessed and possessive of you and I don’t know just like I don’t know I ship your relationship a lot. ♥️♥️♥️♥️

Explanation: physical appearance I think that she would be absolutely in love with you. She just loves you guys have the opposite kinds of femininity like you guys are both very feminine, but in very different senses she’s more of a dark feminine and you’re more of a cute light feminine and I just think that you guys contrast so well with her kind of dark feline energy and you’re kind of more like innocent coquette type energy. I just love the clash there and I feel like she would absolutely be attracted to you and how tall you are I just like you guys both are so similar but so different and I just love that like, oh my gosh I can’t even tell you how much I love you guys and you’re aesthetics clashing together but then also looking so pleasing you guys just are so cute. She loves the way that you wear your Afro and I feel like she just finds you absolutely adorable and just loves the way that you look in general because it’s again such a contrast from her because you guys are both very feminine, but she’s more dark seductive type you know siren and you’re definitely a doe like she’s definitely a siren you’re a doe that’s a really good way to put it. She definitely needs to be checked in with because she’s the chaotic friend and her group so I feel like you guys would have the greatest dynamic ever of you like checking in with her making sure that he said she’s OK and constantly pulling her out of danger because she gets herself in a lot of situations. I just feel like you would be the one reigning her chaos back. She thinks it’s adorable that your so good with kids and it definitely got her thinking about maybe adopting a kid with you because she just loves you so much and thinks that you would be a great mom. You also treat her a lot better than the past guy she’s dated which I feel like she would really appreciate because of the way that she dresses an act she’s super used to be used as a sex toy and nothing really more so whenever you come into her life and treat her like she matters more than just for her body and you see her as a person. I just feel like it means the world to her and she finds you so precious and out of all the things that she stolen in her entire career of thievery I feel like your heart is the most valuable thing she laid her hands on. She doesn’t care that much about social norms either and I feel like she’s also definitely platonic kisser even before you guys started dating she was kissing you casually on the lips cheeks, etc. just because you know she could and she found it kind of a friendly way to do. But they got a lot more intimate as you started dating I don’t know, but I feel like she agrees with you on that. She thinks the fact that you crochet is actually adorable and even though it’s not really as much of her style as a hobby, she finds it super fascinating and is always watching you and your hands and she just thinks it’s so cool that you can do such complicated maneuvers with the string and things like that. she’s not as much of an artist herself, but she would totally support you, but I actually do think that she’s pretty good in the kitchen so I feel like you guys would have a lot fun baking together and cooking together and I feel like if you guys ever made like dinner and stuff it would actually be really good and you guys would just feast like the queen you are for the night and I feel like a really good day for you guys would be a stay at home day where you guys both just cook for each other and then afterwards and with movie and the full skin care routine because she absolutely loves skin care I mean, I cannot, say this enough, but I feel like she would also be a skincare queen and you two would have the Korean glass skin and just be such a good couple. Anyway, if it isn’t obvious enough, I totally ship you too, and I think this is maybe one of my favorite out of all these you know fandom ships I’ve done, I think this is the one that I’ve genuinely shipped or at least top 10 because this is like you guys would be so perfect together.

I mean you’re both feminine but opposite ways and I just love this. 💙💙💙

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funeralgrove · 1 year ago

Note

Also tell me about your favourite non-fandom OC (or just a random one if you don’t have any favourites)

Oughug this is definitely a tough question because I have a lot of favorites AND a lot of my non-fandom ocs are currently being revised,,

So I guess I'll talk about my newest gal, Mallory :o)!

CW: drugs, abusive/negligent parents, abusive relationships, identity issues, murder, true crime

(Here's a sketch of her that I recently finished, I'm in the process of lining her right now.)

So Mallory is actually based off of a different OC of mine, named Gladys. Mallory was made using Gladys' key design features and scrapped elements of Gladys' personality when I first made her. All you really need to know about Gladys in order to understand Mallory is that she's deceased. She was murdered, and she is only a few years older than Mal.

Mallory has always had a fixation on the uncomfortable, bleak and macabre, and is heavily desensitized to many things that the average person would turn their nose up at or would cause them great discomfort. While these interests have always existed, they were further exacerbated by her upbringing.

Mallory was born into impoverished household, both of her parents being abusive and negligent borderline non-functional addicts. She had no extended family and no siblings, and she was forced to raise herself.

In middle school, Mallory would be introduced into the world of true crime—she would frequently stay up late watching television documentaries on murder, missing person's cases, unsolved mysteries, etc.—it had become her special interest (she is autistic,) and it was very quickly beginning to take over her life.

This interest was only heightened after the passing of one of her parents when she would've been a freshman in high school.

She would begin developing severe identity issues amongst other signs of mental illness during this time. While she was never the best student, her grades had begun to slip even further, and very rarely would she show up to school or even stay the whole day.

She would drop out of school at 16, further isolating herself from the world around her. She became even more invested in true crime, it was now all she ever cared about.

The day she turned 17, word of death rocked the headlines—the gruesome murder of a young woman, that being Gladys. Mallory was immediately invested in the case surrounding the enigma that was Gladys Eierkuchen.

She's researched (and continues to research) Gladys heavily, and she's convinced she knows everything about her.

Her obsession with Gladys has grown to Mallory wanting to become her... Gladys seems like the piece needed to fill the void of Mallory's missing identity.

Mallory has a very off-putting demeanor, she never really seems truly 'there' due to the false personality she has assumed, as well as struggling with issues such as disassociation, depersonalization, and other untreated mental illness. She also has incredibly poor self esteem, and will essentially become a doormat for others. She is very easy to manipulate, though she has severe negative reactions to (knowingly) being controlled by others...

She was in a relationship with a different OC of mine named Lauren, who happens to be a serial killer that preys on the emotionally vulnerable. She had suddenly become aware of his control over her, and she snapped. They are no longer together.

#simon says #non fandom oc #my non fandom work is horror-adjacent and can touch on some uncomfortable topics #I'll do my best to tag accordingly if I start posting more content on my blog!#mallory reapsummer #thanks for the ask!

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jeffreyseilerfr · 27 days ago

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helsgcddess · 5 months ago

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— VEILED SPARKS; vi

READ ON AO3 || PINTEREST BOARD

summary: "You should be more careful about what you draw, Toria." In which an artist with a knack for seeing things she shouldn't meets a suspiciously perfect stranger with glowing blue eyes and a possessive yellow Camaro. Set during ROTF.

pairing: bumblebee/original character

word count: 3.7k

a/n— okay so this chapter was supposed to be just stoned jayde and toria making fun of bee's stalking but then?? the phone call scene happened?? and suddenly we're here with possessive flirting and ominous warnings and honestly? i regret nothing! also yes, bee really said "i'm going to order you sushi and critique your plant care while watching your apartment" and we love that energy for him. homeboy's trying SO hard to be subtle and failing spectacularly.

warnings — weed use, stalking but make it romantic?, possessive behavior, symbols getting creepy, red lights being sus

I woke up groggy, last night's conversation with Brooks playing on repeat in my head like a fever dream. Still in yesterday's uniform, I grabbed my phone—no new texts. The radio silence from my cryptic stalker was almost louder than his usual messages. Maybe he was waiting for me to text first, though what I'd even say was beyond me. "Thanks for following me home and being weird about my dead dad's secrets"?

After a shower that didn't quite wash away the lingering unease, I remembered it was my day off. The Chevelle's keys caught my eye, tempting me with the promise of an escape drive. But what if it broke down again? Would Brooks materialize in his too-perfect way, ready to save the day?

"You know he would," I muttered to myself, cringing at how quickly that thought came. I started my coffee—two shots of espresso because apparently that's the kind of day this was going to be—and headed for the balcony. The familiar ritual of lighting a cigarette and settling into my hammock chair felt almost normal.

Almost.

The morning fog was rolling in from the bay, thick enough to blur the edges of buildings into something dreamlike. Kind of like Brooks' edges sometimes, I thought, then immediately took a long drag of my cigarette to shut that line of thinking down.

My sketchbook lay innocently on the little balcony table, and I pointedly didn't look at whatever I might have drawn in my sleep. Instead, I watched the street below, definitely not searching for yellow cars or impossibly perfect men.

A message from Jayde lit up my phone: yo bitch how'd last night go??? 👀 did government boyfriend show up???

I typed back one-handed, ash from my cigarette falling into my coffee: It's complicated. Like, really complicated. Also he might be stalking me but in a hot way???

Her response was immediate: GIRL WHAT

Movement caught my eye—a flash of yellow through the fog that definitely wasn't going to make me paranoid all day.

Jayde was already calling. I answered with a groan.

"Okay, spill everything right now," she demanded, the sound of her bong bubbling in the background. "What do you mean 'stalking you in a hot way'?"

"He followed me home last night," I said, watching another maybe-yellow shape disappear into the fog. "In his stupidly perfect car. Then I accidentally called him and word-vomited about Mission City and now I'm pretty sure he's still out there somewhere being all... cryptic and protective."

"That's either really romantic or really serial killer-y." A pause. "Did you draw him again?"

I finally looked down at my sketchbook, flipping it open to last night's sleep-drawings. "Not... exactly."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I apparently spent my night drawing weird symbols that I definitely saw in my dreams but somehow perfectly recreated on paper?" I stared at the angular marks, so similar to the ones Dad used to sketch. "That's normal, right? Totally normal sleep behavior?"

"Oh honey," Jayde said, "nothing about this is normal. Want me to come over? We can smoke and try to decode your weird dream symbols."

Another flash of yellow through the fog. "Yeah," I said slowly. "Yeah, that might be good."

Before I could hang up, my phone buzzed with a text.

Unknown Number: Have to leave town. Important matter to handle. Unknown Number: Don't go anywhere I can't find you.

"Oh my god, did he just—" I switched back to Jayde. "He literally just sent me the most possessive 'don't move' text."

"READ IT TO ME," she practically screamed through the phone.

"'Don't go anywhere I can't find you,'" I quoted, watching the yellow Camaro finally emerge from the fog long enough to confirm it was him, then disappear down the street. "Like I'm his to keep track of or something."

"I'm bringing the good weed," Jayde declared. "And my conspiracy theory notebook. Be there in twenty."

I finished my cigarette, starting a new cup of coffee as I waited. The fog was thick enough now to hide anything—or anyone—watching from the street. But for the first time since yesterday, that weight of being observed lifted slightly.

My phone buzzed one more time. Unknown Number: You're safer when I can see you. Unknown Number: Stay close to home. Please.

"Wow," I muttered, torn between unease and something else I didn't want to examine. "Someone's got control issues."

Twenty minutes turned into thirty, but Jayde finally burst through my door in her usual chaotic glory—oversized tie-dye shirt, paint-stained jeans, and a backpack that definitely smelled like her "special occasion" weed.

"Okay bitch," she announced, dropping onto my couch and immediately pulling out her supplies. "Show me these possessive texts and weird sleep symbols. Also, why does it smell like you've been chain-smoking since dawn?"

"Because I have been," I admitted, grabbing my sketchbook and phone. "Turns out having a hot maybe-government agent send you stalker texts is kind of stressful."

"Let me see, let me see!" She made grabby hands at my phone while packing her favorite bowl—the one we'd painted with little stars during finals week. "Oh my god," she breathed, reading the texts. "'Don't go anywhere I can't find you'? 'You're safer when I can see you'? Girl, he's either going to murder you or marry you. There's no in-between."

"Thanks, that's super helpful." I sank next to her on the couch, flipping open my sketchbook to last night's symbols. "Can we focus on the fact that I'm apparently sleep-drawing classified government codes?"

Jayde lit the bowl, took a hit, and peered at my drawings. "These look like the shit you used to doodle in art history. You know, after your dad..."

"After my dad died, yeah." I accepted the bowl, taking a long hit. "He used to draw these exact same symbols in his notes. I used to think he was just... I don't know, doing engineer doodles or whatever. But then Sam—the twitchy kid from the café—he was talking about seeing symbols too."

"Okay, wait." Jayde grabbed her conspiracy notebook, the one she'd started keeping after Mission City. "So we've got: your dad drawing weird symbols, random café kid seeing same symbols, you sleep-drawing said symbols, and hot government guy who's weirdly possessive about keeping you safe." She looked up, eyes already getting red. "Also his equally hot friend who kept grinning like he knew something. What was his name again?"

"Sean," I said, taking another hit. "And yeah, when you lay it all out like that, it sounds..."

"Completely fucked?" She grinned. "Also, can we talk about how Brooks texts you like he owns you? Because that's either terrifying or really hot and I can't decide which."

I pulled out my phone, rereading his messages. "Both? Definitely both. Like, who just tells someone 'don't go anywhere I can't find you' unless they're either a serial killer or—"

"Or totally obsessed with you," Jayde finished. "Which, based on your sketches of him, might not be a bad thing. Boy looks like he walked out of a government experiment on how to make the perfect man."

"Maybe that's what he is," I mused, smoke curling around my words. "Some kind of government experiment gone too perfect. Would explain the way he moves, and those eyes, and—" My phone buzzed, making us both jump.

Unknown Number: Your friend's theories are interesting. Unknown Number: But not as interesting as your drawings of me.

"Oh my GOD," Jayde wheezed, reading over my shoulder. "He can hear us? That's some next-level stalking."

"He can't—" Another buzz.

Unknown Number: Tell Jayde I respectfully disagree with the government experiment theory. Unknown Number: The truth is much more complicated. Unknown Number: And Toria? You missed some details in those sketches. My eyes glow brighter when I'm concerned about your safety.

"Okay," I said, putting my phone face-down and grabbing the bowl again. "Either we're way too high, or..."

"Or your possessive not-boyfriend has the whole place bugged," Jayde finished, looking way too delighted about this development. "Quick, say something about how hot he is again. See if he responds."

"I am not giving him the satisfaction," I said, immediately taking another hit. "He's already got enough of an ego about being impossibly perfect without us—"

My phone buzzed again. Jayde dove for it before I could stop her.

"'Your artistic attention to detail is flattering,'" she read, cackling. "'Though you seem particularly focused on my eyes.' OH MY GOD."

"Stop encouraging him!" But I was laughing too, the weed making everything feel simultaneously more ridiculous and more significant. "This is exactly why I have trust issues. Hot government guys just... listening to me talk about how hot they are."

"While protecting you from mysterious dangers," Jayde added, flipping through my sketchbook. "In a very expensive car that's probably also watching us right now."

As if on cue, an engine rumbled somewhere in the fog outside.

"That better not be—" I scrambled to the window, but the street was empty. Just fog and the distant sound of what might have been an amused engine.

My phone lit up again.

Unknown Number: I told you to stay where I could find you. Unknown Number: I never said I'd stop watching.

"Okay," Jayde announced, grabbing the bowl again. "We need to make a list. Hot or Horrifying: The Brooks Edition."

"Okay," Jayde pulled out her conspiracy notebook again, already writing. "Column one: Hot. Column two: Horrifying. Go."

"This is ridiculous," I said, but the weed had other ideas. "Fine. Hot: literally his entire face. Horrifying: the fact that he's listening to us make this list right now."

My phone stayed suspiciously quiet.

"Hot," Jayde continued, writing furiously, "the way he looks at you like you're the only person in the room. Horrifying: the way he looks at you like you're the only person in the room."

"That's the same thing!"

"Exactly!" She gestured with her pen. "Everything about him is both hot and horrifying. Like how he texts you these super protective messages—"

"Possessive," I corrected.

"Same thing with him," she grinned. "Hot: he's literally engineered to be perfect. Horrifying: he's literally engineered to be perfect."

My phone buzzed.

Unknown Number: Your analysis is entertaining. Unknown Number: Though "engineered" isn't quite the right word.

"Oh my god, he's critiquing our list," I groaned, falling back onto the couch. "What's next, gonna correct my sketches too?"

Unknown Number: Your sketches are perfect. Unknown Number: It's your safety measures that need work.

I snorted smoke through my nose, making Jayde cackle. "Okay seriously," she called out to my apparently bugged apartment, "how are you hearing us? Did you like, plant cameras? Got some super-secret military tech in here?"

My phone lit up almost immediately.

Unknown Number: I have my methods. Unknown Number: Also, Toria should probably water that plant on the balcony.

We both slowly turned to look at my dying succulent.

"That's not creepy at all," I muttered, taking another hit. "Just my maybe-government-experiment crush giving me plant care advice while somehow watching us make a Hot or Horrifying list about him."

"Hot: he cares about your plants," Jayde wrote dutifully. "Horrifying: he can see your plants."

"Can you at least tell us how you're doing this?" I asked the empty air, feeling only slightly ridiculous. "Because I'm either way too high or you've got some next-level surveillance going on."

Unknown Number: Both. Unknown Number: Also, you're running low on coffee.

"Okay, now you're just showing off," I called out, but I was fighting a smile.

Jayde was practically vibrating with delight. "This is the best thing that's ever happened. Your hot stalker is literally fact-checking our stoned conspiracy theories in real time."

"Hot:" Jayde announced, still writing, "he knows exactly what's happening in your apartment at all times. Horrifying: he knows exactly what's happening in your apartment at all times."

"You've got to stop listing the same thing for both columns," I laughed, then immediately sobered. "Wait. If he can see us right now, that means he saw me this morning when I was—"

My phone buzzed.

Unknown Number: Your bedhead was charming. Unknown Number: As was the way you talk to your coffee maker.

"I DO NOT—" I started to protest, but Jayde was already howling with laughter.

"You totally do! You're always like 'come on baby, just one more cup' when it starts making weird noises!"

"I hate both of you," I muttered, sinking deeper into the couch. "This is bullying. I'm being bullied by my best friend and a surveillance expert with perfect hair."

Unknown Number: Your hair looks perfect even when you sleep-draw strange symbols.

"Okay, that's it!" I stood up, probably too quickly given how much we'd smoked. "Where are they? The cameras or bugs or whatever you're using to spy on me?"

Jayde joined in, wobbling to her feet. "Yeah! Show yourself, government boyfriend!"

The only response was the distant sound of an engine, somehow managing to sound amused.

"Okay," Jayde said, standing on my coffee table to examine the ceiling fan. "If I were a suspiciously perfect government agent, where would I hide my spy tech?"

The doorbell rang, making us both jump.

"Did you order food?" I asked, suddenly realizing how hungry I was.

"Nope." Jayde hopped down. "But I bet I know who did."

Sure enough, my phone lit up.

Unknown Number: You haven't eaten since your shift. Yesterday. Unknown Number: Two Philadelphia rolls, two tuna maki. Your usual order.

"How does he know my sushi order?" I whispered to Jayde as I approached the door.

"Better question," she stage-whispered back, "how did he know we'd get the munchies?"

The delivery guy looked supremely unimpressed with our poorly contained giggles. "Order for Toria?"

"Let me guess," I said, accepting the bag. "Already paid for?"

"Yeah, some guy called it in. Said to tell you to 'eat something other than coffee and cigarettes.'"

My phone buzzed as I closed the door.

Unknown Number: The wasabi's spicier than you're used to. Unknown Number: But you'll like it.

"Okay," Jayde said, already grabbing chopsticks. "Hot: he feeds you. Horrifying: he knows your exact sushi preferences."

An hour later, we'd demolished the sushi (Brooks was right about the wasabi), done several dabs, and completely failed to find any surveillance equipment despite Jayde's increasingly creative theories about nanobots in my houseplants.

"I should go," Jayde said, gathering her things. "Got that commission deadline tomorrow." She paused at the door. "Unless you want me to stay? In case your perfect stalker decides to make an appearance?"

My phone buzzed.

Unknown Number: She should take a Lyft. Unknown Number: The fog's getting worse.

"See?" I showed her the text. "He's even worried about your safe travel now."

"Aww," Jayde cooed at my ceiling. "Thanks, government boyfriend! Way to look out for the best friend."

Unknown Number: The Lyft is already outside. Unknown Number: Black Honda Civic. Driver's name is Mike.

"Okay, that's actually kind of impressive," Jayde admitted, peeking out my window. "And yeah, there's Mike in his Honda. Your boy's got style, I'll give him that."

After she left, I flopped back onto my couch, still pleasantly high and full of sushi. "You know," I said to my apparently surveilled apartment, "this would be really creepy if you weren't so..."

Unknown Number: So?

"So... you," I finished lamely, then sat up straighter. "Okay, real talk time. Now that Jayde's gone and I'm just high enough to ask - is my apartment actually bugged? Because I've been looking all day and either you've got some next-level tech or..."

My phone buzzed, but this time felt different. More serious somehow.

Unknown Number: No bugs. Unknown Number: No cameras. Unknown Number: Just me.

"That's not cryptic at all," I muttered, twisting my ring. "What does that even mean, 'just you'? Are you some kind of super-advanced AI? Government experiment? Alien?"

A pause, longer than usual, then:

Unknown Number: Would it scare you if I said yes? Unknown Number: To any of those?

I stared at my phone, heart pounding. "I mean, I'm already talking to my empty apartment and drawing classified symbols in my sleep, so..." I laughed, only slightly hysterical. "Honestly? I'm more concerned about how you knew my exact sushi order."

The distant sound of an engine - familiar now - rumbled through the fog.

Unknown Number: I pay attention. Unknown Number: To everything about you.

"I pay attention he says," I muttered, heading to the balcony with my cigarettes. "Like that's not the most ominous way to say you're stalking me."

I'd barely lit up when my phone rang. Unknown Number.

For a moment, I just stared at it, smoke curling around my fingers. Then, because I was still high enough for this to seem like a good idea, I answered.

"You know," I said before he could speak, "most guys just ask for a girl's number instead of going full surveillance state."

"Most girls don't draw what you draw," his voice came through, carrying that mechanical undertone I'd noticed before. "Don't see what you see."

I took a long drag, watching the fog swallow the street below. "And what exactly do I see, Brooks? Besides impossible blue eyes and people who move like they're not quite human?"

"You see truth," he said softly. "Like your father did."

The cigarette shook slightly in my hand. "Is that why you're watching me? Because I see too much?"

"I'm watching you," and his voice dropped lower, more possessive, "because I can't seem to stop."

I leaned against the balcony railing, suddenly very aware of how exposed I was. "That's not really an answer."

"No," he agreed, that mechanical undertone humming stronger. "But you like that about me. The mystery. You keep drawing it, trying to capture what doesn't quite make sense."

"Are you—" I took another drag to steady myself. "Are you flirting with me about my drawings of you?"

A sound that might have been a laugh, might have been an engine purring. "I'm flirting with you about the way you see me. The way you can't stop seeing me." A pause, then softer, more intense: "The way you've filled pages trying to understand what I am."

"Jesus," I breathed, cigarette forgotten. "You really know how to make stalking sound romantic."

"Is it working?"

"Maybe," I admitted, blaming the weed and wasabi for my honesty. "Though it would work better if I could actually see you right now instead of just talking to fog."

"Look down," he said, and there it was—the yellow Camaro, emerging from the mist like a dream. His silhouette was barely visible through the window, but those impossible blue eyes caught the streetlight perfectly.

"Show off," I muttered, but I was smiling.

"Been there all day?" I asked, trying to sound casual as I lit another cigarette with slightly shaky hands.

"Not all day," he said, and I could hear that almost-smile in his voice. "Just since you started drawing me again this morning. After the…job I had to do.”

"That's—" I choked slightly on smoke. "How did you even know I was—"

"I told you," his voice dropped lower, making something in my chest flutter. "I pay attention to everything about you. The way you sketch when you're nervous. How you twist your ring when you're thinking about your father. The exact moment you realize I'm watching."

"Like right now?" I tried to joke, but my voice came out breathier than intended.

"Especially right now." A pause, then: "You're wearing my favorite sketch subject. That oversized Hawaiian shirt."

I glanced down at Dad's old shirt, the one I'd thrown on this morning. "Okay, that's either really sweet or really creepy."

"Both," he said simply. "Like most things about us."

"Us," I repeated, rolling the word around. "That's a pretty presumptuous word for someone who keeps disappearing into fog."

"And yet you keep drawing me when I'm gone," he countered smoothly. "Speaking of drawings..."

I glanced at my sketchbook, the pages of symbols practically glowing in the streetlight. "Want to tell me what these mean? Since you seem to know everything else about me."

"Toria..." A warning in his voice.

"No, look—" Before I could overthink it, I tossed the sketchbook over the balcony. It landed with a soft thud on the Camaro's hood.

The silence that followed was deafening.

"That was..." His voice had that mechanical edge again. "Reckless."

"Yeah, well," I took another drag, trying to hide how my hand shook. "So is stalking an artist with impulse control issues. What do they mean, Brooks?"

Through the fog, I saw his silhouette move. The sketchbook disappeared into the car.

"They mean," he finally said, voice impossibly soft, "that I might not be the only one watching you anymore."

"What's that supposed to mean?" My voice cracked slightly, but he was already starting the engine.

"Lock your doors tonight," he said, that possessive edge creeping back in. "And Toria? Next time, just invite me up instead of throwing things at my car."

Before I could respond, the Camaro melted back into the fog, taking my sketchbook with it. The line went dead, leaving me with just the taste of smoke and too many questions.

I headed back inside, double-checking the locks like he'd said. But as I turned away from the door, something caught my eye—a shadow moving wrong in the fog outside my window. Not yellow. Not Brooks.

My phone lit up one last time.

Unknown Number: Don't look out the window. Unknown Number: And don't answer if anyone knocks. Unknown Number: I'm coming back.

Through the glass, red lights glowed in the darkness.

#bayformers #bayverse #transformers #bumblebee #writeblr #writing ;;#bumblebee x oc #transformers bayverse #transformers fic #veiled sparks

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