I think my favorite dynamic for stuilly is Stu being head over heels in love with Billy but Billy is mad he likes STU of all people.
Stu will just latch himself onto Billy while Billy is just like, “I cannot believe I fell for this idiot with a fourth grade reading level, fuck my stupid chungus life” but will never try to actually push Stu off
Shout out to all the Black ppl that can no longer participate directly in the fandom they love because of the stresses of racism 👍🏾 you contain multitudes of value and I'm sorry that the color of your skin and the power of your voice makes people not want to acknowledge that.
hey would you guys want like. quick little unofficial commissions? let's just say something like $20-30 for a finished rendered drawing and ill draw pretty much anything. im tryna get concert tickets over here lawl
Summary: Billy Loomis murdered everybody he ever knew. And he got away with it. Got famous even. Got a whole movie about him - about how he survived the now infamous Woodsborough Massacre. And every good movie needs a sequel. So he goes to college to make one. || Inspiration here.
Warnings: Murder. Billy Loomis himself is a warning.
An excerpt of a fic @hewwosidney and I are working on.
Grey skies.
Everyone says that winter is bleak and depressing, but he always thought the opposite. When those grey skies turn black and one can barely see the stars, when it's freezing and that starlight is just bright enough to illuminate the gently falling snow, when the whole world is quiet for once - that's the sort of time Billy liked the best. Those grey skies are low and close, intimate in a way. Like a secret.
The chill tinged his cheeks pink and chapped his lips, but he didn't much mind it. The cold was sharp, just on the edge of painful. It bit his cheeks, nipped at the corners of his lips. It never got this cold in Cali. He liked it. Savored it.
Dorms, businesses and various other functional buildings lined the streets on either side of him. They were all brick - old style, with small window panes and wrought iron railings on the stairs. Crooked wreaths and silver bells hung on doors and warm lights lined their rooftops. They sorta made him feel like he was living in A Christmas Carol. The Muppet one. He smiled to himself and shivered, shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket.
The sky grew darker and his breath turned to mist in front of his face. Snow sprinkled his hair and brought silence to the world in white whispers. It caught on his eyelashes and made him chuckle. Though, he had to be especially careful now with his crutches. They clicked asynchronously with the crunch of his boot, the sounds reverberating off the old brick buildings. The only noise in the dark. Aside from his voice.
“Silent night… Holy night…”
The notes on his breath manifested in the air. He watched his crutches. Glancing up only occasionally.
His breath left his lungs slowly.
The snow fell.
The world got darker.
And darker. Closing in, getting smaller.
Shrinking into frame. Made for a great shot, really.
Billy saw her the next time he looked up. She passed beneath the warm yellow light of a street lamp, walking quickly through the dark and the snow. Deep auburn hair, pale skin. Cute little freckles and pink mittens on her hands.
She eyed him wearily for a moment. Suspicious like a smart girl should be. He flashed her a soft smile and her shoulders relaxed.
He'd always had a talent for that, he supposed - making girls relax.
“All is calm… all is bright.”
He let one of his crutches slip and pretended to recover quickly. His smile turned sheepish as his eyes met hers again. She laughed softly, smiling back with warmth.
She didn't cross to the other side of the street.
A smart girl would have.
As they passed each other, her hand gently brushed his shoulder.
“Merry Christmas,” She said.
He vaguely recognized her. She took English with him. Quiet. Always sat by the window and never bothered anybody. She was pretty. Like silver bells and Christmas lights. Pleasant, but ultimately uninteresting.
Cassie. That was her name.
So close to… Casey.
He took his shot.
Billy dropped one crutch and swept the other into her knees. She cried out but he was quick to cover her mouth and push her into the adjacent alleyway. Convenient. His other hand flew to his belt, swiftly drawing out the blade tucked away there. In one practiced movement, he shoved the freezing metal between her fourth and fifth rib on her left side.
Warm. They always were.
Her eyes were wide and she gagged into his gloved hand. He smiled at her.
Step by step he backed them against a dumpster as the life slowly left her body.
“Sleep in heavenly peace…”
When her legs gave out, he let her sink down to the ground. Large green eyes fluttered closed. Such a pretty little thing, but her plot importance was minimal. She should feel grateful to have some interesting screen time. Bit of a shame to lose an extra so pretty. The cold would keep her that way for a while. Billy wrenched the knife out of her and she collapsed against the brick wall beside her. She could have been sleeping.
She didn't have to die, he supposed. Not really. But then again, neither had Casey.
“Sleep in heavenly peace…”
He wiped the blade off on her jeans before shoving it back into its sheath.
Hobbling back out of the alleyway, he picked up his crutches and kept on walking.