#randy intruder

[ashyy-slashyy]

hello niche 80s horror freaks. heres some intruder shit for your eyeballs

[natjennie]

the best part of bbc ghosts is that it's not just silly crazy zany ghosts and StraightFaced People having to put up with them like. the ghosts all sometimes hate each other too and alison and mike are just as bonkers as them sometimes. you must understand that in a muppet version of bbc ghosts like. humphrey's head would be the real person if anything. none of them are free from tomfoolery.

[iekeejkeek]

is beautiful up here

[slaasherslut]

oh how i yearn to be a jar that sam raimi is shoving his fingers knuckle deep into

[lianazombilina]

I was working on a drawing of all the kids from Intruder (1989) hanging out after work, but it all got a bit complicated, so I broke it down into parts. Here's Randy and the bread man sharing a smoke in an alleyway.

[motivationalvamp]

Suddenly, Randy realized he should never try fishing with the big hooks again, 

Sam Raimi as Randy in INTRUDER (1989) dir. Scott Spiegel

[cryvelv3t]

Dad's best friend

Warnings: Age Gap, You're Orton's kid storyline wise, praise, bleeding

You sat behind your dad as he spoke with Cody, a lot had been happening with Kevin Owens and it was starting to worry them. "What do you think kid?" Cody asked you. He always felt the need to include you in conversations, you really loved him for that. Plus he’s super hot. "I think you should take his offer?" Their eyes widened "Kevin's offer," you clarified "It will be a good chance for you to show just how brutal you can be, it's like the "I quit" match with AJ." You added. Cody smiled "Now Randy why can't you be more like him?" He commented as he looked at your dad. "That's smart kid." he complimented as he turned his attention back to you. "Thanks Mr. Rhodes." His smile fell slightly "Do you always call me that?" he asked, brows furrowing. "Yeah, ever since I was little." You answered like it was obvious "Cody. It's Cody now." You smiled at him. “What if he tries to do a tag team match?” Randy asked Cody “Right, you’re injured. What about the kid?” Your eyes widened and you smiled widely “Yeah?” He asked, smiling as well. “No! No, that's an awful idea.” Randy said as placed an arm in front of you. “Why?” “You may be able to hold your own but you’ve never done a tag team match.” You went to tell him you could do it but Cody stopped you “He’s going to be my partner.” He said firmly. Randy sighed “Fine but don’t complain when you lose the match.” He walked away from you. “You think you’ll be able to do this. “I think so. Thank you Mr.” You cut yourself off before you could say Mr. Rhodes. “Thank you Cody.”. He gave you a smile and squeezed your shoulder before leaving you with your thoughts.

As you laid in bed that night you couldn’t help your mind wandering to Cody giving you a chance like that. You placed your face in your pillow trying to stop the more perverted thoughts from intruding the nicer ones. God, he’s as old as your dad and here you are fantasizing about him bouncing on your dick. “Fuck.” You groaned and started to play music on your phone to distract yourself. It somewhat worked but your dream was even worse. Cody looked up at you from his place on the floor “Please, fuck my mouth.” He whispered. It was like you couldn’t speak but he knew exactly what you wanted. Cody opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. You slowly led your cock into his mouth. He hummed around it, his eyes struggling to stay open. He let out steady, muffled, moans as you rocked your cock into his mouth. He pulled himself off your cock, his eyes were so beautiful, so fucking desperate “Please, please I need you inside me.”. Almost immediately after he said that you woke up. You were meeting up tonight with Cody to make a plan on if Owens asks for a match. You felt like cancelling but you also need to prove to your dad that you can do it.

“Hey, kid.” He greeted as he let you into his hotel room. “You okay?” he asked, “Yeah, just kind of distracted but I’ll be fine.” “What’s distracting you?” he pried. You had the urge to look him straight in the eyes and tell you about your dream but instead gave a little “Nothing important.” you dismissed the question. “I don’t think Owens is going to ask for a tag team match. He doesn't have any allies that would help him if he tried.” Cody said and you hummed in acknowledgement “We probably could’ve done this over text.” Cody laughed as he walked you into the room. “You can sit down.” he said as he sat on the edge of his bed. You sat at the little desk in the corner “If you don’t think he’s going to ask for a match then why am I here?” You asked a little meaner than you meant for it. His eyes widened slightly “I wanted to talk to you, without your dad here.” He got up and began walking towards you. You raised an eyebrow at him “What about?” you asked nervously. “I,” he started “I want you.” Your eyes widened. You wondered if you were dreaming “I’m sorry, this was wrong. Your dad is my best friend, I’m sorry.” You cut him off by kissing him. “I want you too.” You said against his lips. He made the effort to pull away “You’ve grown to be so handsome.” He ran a hand from your face to your chest. “And you’re so strong.” you smiled at him. You kissed him again before backing him up to the bed. Once he laid down you placed a leg in between his legs “Fuck, you’re so hot.” He really met your expectations.

You guys heard someone knock on the door “Cody!” It was Owens. “What the hell?” Cody said as you two sat up. “Don’t let him see you.” He whispered as he went to open the door. You sat off to the side out of sight from the door. As soon as he opened the door Owens started yelling at him. “You are a piece of shit and! And guess who I saw come into your room? Orton’s kid, I wonder how he would feel if he saw his best friend fucking his son?” Owens went on a rant about how Randy would react, then you heard Cody raise his voice “You saw nothing. And I will never hear you call the kid a whore again. Imagine how Randy would react, he would put you 6 feet under.” You could hear Cody chuckle “Hell, I would. Leave now, asshole.” His voice was stern, so different from the one you heard minutes ago. You smirked to yourself at the thought. You heard the door close and the lock click. “You okay?” You looked at him, his face was flushed and his brows were furrowed. He hummed “I’m just telling you now, your voice when you’re angry is so hot.” You smiled at him. Cody’s facial expressions changed greatly “Really?” You hummed, eyes flickering from his lips back to his eyes. “Fuck.” He breathed out, “You should probably go before Owens comes back.” Cody said as you went to kiss him. You stopped and backed away “Okay.” You tried not to show your disappointment.

He walked you out to the door, and you turned around to say goodbye. “I really don’t want you to leave. If you want to stay you might have to hide again. Do you want to stay?” You laughed “What do you think?” He smiled at you, his hands working their way up to your neck. Your hands found his waist and you kissed him gently. Cody pulled you back into the room, lips never leaving each other. You took one hand off of his waist and used it to close the door. Once you both needed air he pulled away “Fuck.” He breathed out, his hands trying to find a place to sit. “God, I want to fuck you.” You groaned as you started to kiss his jaw and neck “Do it, god fuck! Please do it.” He sounded desperate, his voice was high pitched and whiny. “Fuck, just your voice alone could make me come.” He whined loudly at that. You backed him up, both of you falling onto the bed. You took the same position as before with one of your legs between his own. You pressed your knee into the growing bulge in his pants. He whimpered your name as he let his head fall back against the pillows. “God, I love the way you say my name.” You groaned into his ear “God, I love your voice. You’re so fucking hot.” He moaned out as he ground onto your thigh. You let him pleasure himself as you kissed down his jaw and neck. He was still wearing a button up from his promo earlier giving you very easy access to take off his shirt. You quickly unbuttoned the the shirt “God you’re so fucking hot.” You groaned as you wrapped your lips around his nipple. His back arched with a loud moan.

You pulled away from his chest with wide eyes as you felt your thigh get wet. “Fuck, Cody. Did you just come?” He nodded tears in his eyes. You cooed at him as you went to get him a change of clothes. “No, I want, no, I need you inside of me please.” He grabbed your shirt using it to pull you back to him. “Please, please baby. Please fuck me.” You hummed “Of course baby.” you said as you kissed him again. Your fingers fumbled around with his belt and his hands found your belt. “Take off your shirt.” He demanded. You smiled down at him “So needy.” You teased “Yes, yes I am. Fuck! Please fuck me.” Cody begged without you even asking it of him. His voice easily made you crumble, you pulled off your shirt and pulled off your pants. Cody let out a string of thank you’s as he sat up and raked his nails down your body “Please, please fuck me please.” He begged again as pulled down his pants. Cody gets desperate so easily, he’s so sweet. You smiled and started to kiss down his body, you pulled off his boxers. “Do you have lube?” He nodded quickly “Yes, yes, in my bag.”. You didn’t want him to be waiting for too long so you hurried to grab it. “You plan this baby?” You asked him as you began to run your lubed fingers on his rim “I hoped, but no. Asking you to be my tag team partner and having you come over tonight were impulsive. Fuck!” He spoke somewhat frantically “How long have you wanted me baby?” You leaned down into his ear. When he went to speak you entered a finger successfully cutting him off with a loud groan. “Answer me Cody.” You went from baby to his name so quickly. It made him whimper loudly “Wrestlemania when you helped me win the belt, you were so fucking hot when you speared Roman.” He was basically crying at this point. He was so beautiful like this, absolutely amazing. You added another finger to his hole “Fuck, thank you thank you.”. Your cock was painfully hard in your boxers, you started to grind yourself against his leg to give yourself a little release. You groaned praises into his ear “Fuck, your so good. So good for me.” You entered another finger into Cody. When you felt that he was loose enough you pulled out your fingers, added lube to your cock and his hole “Are you ready baby?” You asked as you lined up your cock with his hole. “Yes, yes please fuck me.” You leaned down and gave him a gentle kiss and guided your cock into him. You groaned simultaneously at the stimulation. You two just sat for a minute after you bottomed out giving Cody enough time to adjust. “Move, move please, move.” He begged and reached his hands out to you. As you started thrusting Cody wrapped his hands around your neck pulling you to be near him. “My sweet baby.” You wrapped one arm around his waist and the other forearm sits next to his head. “You’re calling me baby and I’m older than you.” He chuckles “Got your brains back.” He hummed “You’re not going hard enough.” You raised your eyebrows. “Oh?” You asked before slamming into him “Fuck!” He cries out “Yes! Fuck!” He moans loudly, his nails digging into your back. At this point you think you might be bleeding. His nails drag from the small of your back to the spot where your shoulder and neck meet. You saw some blood fall from your shoulder onto his face “Fuck baby, look at that.” “Huh?” He whimpered, “Making me bleed.” His eyes widened as you leaned down and licked the blood off of his face. “Please, please. Fuck you’re gonna make me come. Please!” He begged loudly. “Make me come please, touch me please.” You smiled down at him and did as he asked. He crumbled after a few strokes, cock letting out a stream of cum. His hole tightened around you making you cum deep inside him. “Fuck.” You groaned as you calmed down.

“You should stay the night.” Cody said as he started to run his hands through your hair, “That was my plan.” you responded with a smile. “We should take a shower.” Cody smiled, “Yeah, we should.” You answered. “You’re tired aren’t you?” He asked as he felt your weight slowly press harder against him “We can wait for a bit.” He gives you a kiss on the head and pulls you close. “Would it be crazy to say I love you?” You ask leaning into his neck “A little but I love you too.” Cody responds with a light chuckle.

[loupy-mongoose]

Note: For the sake of differentiation, Nico's text will be bold, while Randy's will not.

If there's any trouble telling anyone else apart, let me know, and I'll see what I can do to make it clearer.

Also it is. VERY long. So to the Read More zone it goes!

Enjoy. :)

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ARC START | CHRONO

~~~~~~

The Mews-in-human-form and Nico stepped carefully around the debris of the mansion floor. Lav, who had their bag on her human form, had transformed so they could grab a flashlight out of it. Now she had returned to Mewtwo form and floated around excitedly, taking in the sight of the neglected remains of Nico's birthplace.

Randy held the light in his left hand, while his right tightly gripped his cane. Akoya walked close to his side, her hands in her jacket pockets.

Daddy, stop shining at the floor! I wanna see what's around!

Not until your mom transforms and I don't have to worry about her stepping on something.

I'll be fine, Love! I can handle a few pebbles here and th--YEAHK!

She suddenly hopped away from Randy, inspecting her foot. Randy gave her a snide look.

Fine. She rolled her eyes before shifting. A split-second flash later, she was a Mew. She hovered over and draped herself on Randy's shoulder.

Content that his wife would no longer step on things, he looked at Lav. Here, Hon. You can hold this if you want. Seeing that he had her attention, he tossed the light her way. She telekinetically caught it and brought it to her hands.

Thanks Daddy! She smiled as she went around the room with the light. Nico followed after her, and Randy trudged behind.

Nico... Lav spoke after looking at charred walls, flooring, and rubble around them. Is this the place you destroyed? The one from that memory that woke me up?

It is, yes...

Akoya chimed in from her perch. It's a wonder nobody's bothered to fix it up after all this time.

Well, the volcano eruption kinda got in the way of that. I guess nobody saw any point afterword...

Randy glanced upward, wracked by a sudden chill. It feels like the ceiling could come down at any moment...

Akoya nuzzled her husband's cheek. We'll teleport out if anything happens, Love.

Still feeling shaken, Randy raised his hand to her and brushed his fingers through her fur.

He hoped against hope that the Mewtwos--especially Nico--couldn't sense just how right Akoya had been.

He needed her support.

And not the way his cane could provide.

This place filled him with dread. It was too... familiar... Every once in a while he caught a whiff of smoke and burned things. He could just make out the cracks in the ceilings and walls. He heard the occasional faint creaking of the dilapidated building.

He was almost glad it was too dark to see clearly.

The pain in his legs hadn't let up since they came here. He did his best to hide it from the 'twos, but he know it was futile to hide it from the little blue cat on his shoulder

She clearly knew.

And he endlessly appreciated it.

They walked along, chatting and looking through the debris. There were a lot of books in there, but most were burned beyond recognition or reading, or just boring scientific observations and notes. Wild Pokemon skittered about, too frightened by the strange intruders to engage with them.

Lav picked up yet another book and skimmed through it.

Oh!

Randy looked at her as she approached him. He could feel her buzzing with excitement.

She handed the book to him. It's Mr. Fuji's!

A spark of curiosity coursed through him as he took the book. Nico came over, his eyes shining in the gloom. He read over Randy's shoulder.

Wow... He flipped slowly through its pages. It... it goes through your growth, Nico...

Nico tilted his head, eyes filled with an almost child-like shimmer. Cool!

He flinched back as Randy handed the book up to him. Here. It's about you, so you should have it.

After looking at it for a moment, Nico shook his head and gently pushed it away. No. It's Fuji's. You should take it back to him when you return.

After a moment, Randy gave a smile and a slight nod before stuffing it into a pants pocket.

They continued their impromptu tour of the mansion.

Eventually...

They came to the back portion.

The floors and walls had sustained significant amounts of damage. Walls crumpled to the floor, creating larger rooms than once were. The floors had large holes, leading down into the basement below. Light streamed in from gaps in the ceiling.

Akoya floated off Randy's shoulder. How 'bout that! A shortcut to the basement~

As they all started heading into the nearest hole, Randy transformed without a second thought... until he noticed Nico looking at him in somber shock.

Randy know what he was thinking, and gave him a sad look.

So... that's... what my dad looked like, huh?

Randy's eyes grew somehow more weary than they were. ...Pretty much, yeah... He never looked this exhausted though...

The basement was worse off than the floor above, dimly lit by the sunlight. It was clear walls once stood, but now the area was just one large room, with a few pillars-that-were-once-walls being the only support for the tattered building above.

Along the back wall of the basement...

Was a set of cylindrical tanks.

The group hovered over to them, not wanting to step on the sharp debris on the floor.

Shattered glass and old dust carpeted the area. A small keypad protruded from the front of the center tank, and two more of the tubes stood behind on either side, and forward of those were two large computer casings.

The area was stained with old burn marks, while plant life had grown in. It was almost serene, lit by the rays of persistent sunlight.

Randy floated over to the skeletal tanks.

...Mo has been here...

Randy...

The long Mew turned to Nico.

Can... Can I ask you something...?

Did... Did Mo ever talk about me?

Randy took a moment to think.

...I think he wanted to...

Akoya looked at him questioningly.

Right b-before... He shut his eyes, trembling, trying to break free of his dread.

Oop.

PREVIOUS NEXT

ARC START | CHRONO

[onebizarrekai]

Can we have Ds Randy lore pls pls 😣..

oh my god his lore is absolutely bonkers. have I ever ranted about it. I don't remember.

ya boy randy grows up in a Magic Nightmare Dimension that's meant to be like, a real nursery rhyme. that like, kids are told by their parents that they'll be snatched away into the Nightmare Dimension™ if they misbehave or act out or whatever, except the dimension is real. it's like, horrortale-esque, just without the entirety of horrortale. for some reason randy's name is dino and he works as the abused lumberjack assistant of a blacksmith and he's supposed to be like the most sentient person in the dimension who's the only one who questions his purpose because everyone around him has an innate desire to kill intruders, those being the children that fall into the dimension when they sleep at night.

then JR just, magically finds this extremely specific dimension, kills everyone, except randy because he's "really good at hiding" (amazing) and so randy's just. straight up the only survivor. he lives in this nightmare dimension for years BY HIMSELF and gives company to the children who still slip into it to try and make it less scary for them. and because core frisk is still an element of the story, they show up multiple times, they tell him he shouldn't be alone in a place like this. it takes a bit of convincing because randy is afraid of leaving it empty, but he eventually concedes. and the evil nightmare dimension disappears because it has no more inhabitants.

fast forward, randy, for some stupid reason, wants to do core frisk's job. he's like "I wanna save people from their timelines and give them a place to stay" and core frisk is like "no that's my job, go be a member of society" and randy is so upset that he breaks into the omega timeline's resident avengers tower (I don't know what it is! it's a skyscraper! my brain says it's a random skyscraper!) where they're keeping their experimental Dimension Traveling Fluid. randy splatters it all over his lumberjack axe that he still has for some reason, and you guessed it, tries to do core frisk's job. because this story loves being extremely over the top, randy accidentally rescues a like murderer rapist who hurts people and everyone in the omega timeline is like "oh my god! you bastard!" because apparently this random criminal is the only guy in the history of the omega timeline who's hurt anyone. and core frisk is all like "randy don't ever do that again" and randy is so ashamed and knows that everyone hates him and he just. leaves entirely. because somehow, even though they confiscated his weapon, he breaks BACK INTO THE SKYSCRAPER TO STEAL IT BACK. and core frisk purposefully does not go after him. I don't know. maybe they did it on purpose. maybe it's a mind game and they were trying to get rid of him. who even knows at this point.

and this guy just, he just does whatever for the next however long. my notes just say "he stumbled into JR one day when they had coincidentally rescued a bunch of children from a murder cult". and JR just immediately sees him in the cams, and they're like, who's that guy, so they bring him in, and randy's panicking because these guys killed off his whole universe. and they just put him a cell! for no reason! they're like "he's got classified technology in his weapon" and they throw him in jail, say they're going to "deal with him later" and bunny coincidentally happens to be in the cell next to him because when you are a traumatized baby teen and you're melting down because a bunch of guys in white army suits started killing everyone you know, they put you in a cell. and for some reason randy starts talking to bunny about being free from the cult despite this being way out of his depth, and despite him only knowing what he briefly overheard. and JR has waiting times like a doctor's office so like an hour passes before bunny will say a single word to him. and then like, they just start sort of talking, and there's a guard there, he just stops existing, stops caring that they're talking about breaking out and then some more guys come in and take bunny somewhere else and interrogate randy some more.

and here's the thing. I do not know how they broke out. my notes stop there. I don't know. I think bunny got away and stole his weapon back?? and they escaped together?? that's insane. oh yeah, this is the part where randy is like "I was just passing through" the guards are like "do you have any idea how high the security is here" and it just makes me laugh every single time. why is JR so incompetent. it's just funny at this point.

[ashyy-slashyy]

OHMY GODDD I NEED TO DRAW THEM NOW

…I said lost your job, Joe

[hocksburn]

yeah hey sorry fellas i know its pride night but are we intruding

"we might get together later tonight" dude? randy? randy. they move drew across the arena from you and you immediately find another man. smh.

[ashyy-slashyy]

GUYS GUYS GUYS MY INTRUDER SHIRT IS HERE GUYSSSS!!!!! MY EVIL DEAD VHS JUST GOT HERE TOO!!!!!!!!!!

[daryltwdixon]

The Ruins of Us: Chapter 28

Summary: Sitting by the fire, you feel uneasy and anxious, your mind drifting to what’s happening in the barn. The group is silent, reflecting on Randy’s uncertain fate, and the tension is thick. When Rick emerges with Carl, visibly shaken, you realize something didn’t go as planned. When you get up to look for Daryl, wondering what happened in the barn, you witness a horrific scene. In a flashback, Daryl is attacked by the group of men keen on sending a message. When Shane appears, Daryl remains defiant, unyielding to his threats. But Shane’s message is clear—stay away, or face worse consequences.

warnings: violence!!! gore!!! walker violence/death!!! Character death!!!

notes: not me realizing til after posting this that the pics of Shane are literally the same LOL

You stayed close to the group, sitting on the outskirts by the fire, though your mind kept drifting to what was about to happen in the barn. The flickering flames danced across the faces of those around you, casting long shadows on the ground as the night fully claimed the sky. The stars above sparkled faintly, indifferent to the tension settling over camp. You had chosen to stay, figuring it would be better not to follow Daryl and Rick to the barn. Especially with Shane going too. A knot of unease twisted in your stomach, but you shoved it down. Daryl had just nodded, not saying much when Rick asked him to help with Randy. That blank acceptance worried you.

You glanced at the others, their faces dimly lit by the fire. No one said much. The silence weighed heavily on everyone—everyone knew what was coming. Randy’s fate was sealed, and whether they agreed with it or not, there wasn’t much anyone could do now.

You pulled your knees to your chest, feeling the warmth of the fire but not its comfort. Your gaze darted over to the barn, but you couldn’t make anything out in the dark. Shane’s anger, Rick’s responsibility, Daryl’s quiet compliance—it all felt wrong, like the group was splintering under the weight of too many hard decisions.

Suddenly, movement caught your eye. Rick emerged from the shadows, Carl walking close beside him. You hadn’t heard a gunshot, no sound of Randy being "dealt with." Confusion rippled through you as Rick walked toward Lori, his face tense but softer than you’d expected.

“He wanted to watch,” Rick said, his voice rough, laced with a strain you rarely heard from him. Lori stood immediately, wrapping her arms around Carl as she held him at his sides, steadying him like she was afraid he might collapse. “I couldn’t,” Rick added, his voice cracking just slightly.

“That’s okay,” Lori murmured softly, stroking Carl’s back as she pulled him closer. “That’s okay.”

The tenderness of the moment felt like a stark contrast to everything else around you. For a second, it was just the three of them—Rick, Lori, and Carl—locked in their own little world. You looked away, feeling like an intruder on something too private, too raw.

You couldn’t help but wonder what had happened back at the barn. Why hadn’t Rick gone through with it? What had stopped him? And where were Shane and Daryl?

You watched as Rick and Lori held onto Carl, their embrace tight and protective. Rick’s anguished face flickered in the firelight, his eyes briefly meeting yours before they shifted toward the barn—toward the place where he had almost killed a man. The weight of the decision clung to him like a shadow, and you could feel it, the heaviness pressing down on everyone.

Your gaze followed his to the barn, the pit in your stomach growing as you searched the darkness, trying to find any sign of Daryl. It had been just him, Shane, and Randy back there, and now the silence gnawed at you, a quiet kind of dread settling in your bones. No gunshot, no raised voices—just nothing. And that scared you more than anything.

You shifted on your feet, antsy and uneasy, before finally standing up. The fire's warmth flickered behind you as you stepped away from the group. Maybe Daryl had already gone back to your tent. Maybe he didn’t want to be around anyone after whatever had happened in that barn. You hoped that was all it was.

As you walked through the field, the cool night air brushed against your skin, the distant hum of crickets filling the silence. Your eyes scanned the darkened landscape, searching for any sign of him. But instead, something else caught your attention. The back of Dale’s bucket hat bobbed in the distance, his slow, deliberate pace drawing your focus.

You paused, wondering for a moment where he was going at this hour. It wasn’t like Dale to wander off alone, especially not with everything going on. Your curiosity piqued, but then, a chill ran down your spine as you spotted something else.

A figure was closing in behind him. It moved with an unsteady gait, its limbs jerking in that familiar, sickening way. Your heart sank as recognition hit you like a punch to the gut. It was a walker.

Panic flared in your chest. You were too far away to shout, too far to reach him before the walker could. You froze for a split second, the world around you narrowing to that one horrifying moment—Dale, oblivious, and the walker gaining on him.

Your feet moved before you could think, instinct taking over as you sprinted across the field, your heart pounding in your ears.

Oh Fuck.

You watch as—suddenly, the walker throws Dale to the ground in a rush, right as he realizes what’s coming. Your eyes widen, heart leaping into your throat as your legs kick into motion, hitting the ground running. "Dale!" you scream, your voice raw as panic takes over. His screams of horror reach you, but the blood pounding in your ears muffles everything as your footsteps hit the earth at a desperate speed.

"Dale!" you yell again, your lungs burning as you close the distance. Others are behind you, catching up, but none of it matters. All you see is the thing ripping into Dale's stomach, the gruesome scene slowly, horribly making sense in your mind. Right then, someone rushes to him, from the left of the field, throwing the walker to the side and driving a knife into its skull without a second thought.

"Help! Over here!" the voice is screaming, his voice desperate. You finally skid to a halt, just in time to see Daryl beside Dale, his face pale with shock and urgency. You freeze, the sight paralyzing you for a moment, your breath catching in your chest.

Hershel rushes over, Rick already barking orders to get Dale inside. But as you approach, you hear Hershel’s grim voice cut through the chaos: "He won’t make it back to the house." His words hang in the air, and your gaze locks on Dale’s open, bloodied stomach, his insides spilling out in a horrific, unrelenting mess.

Rick is yelling, calling for supplies, insisting Hershel operate right there, right now. But you can see it, same as Hershel—the old man won’t survive this. Dale is dying right in front of you, and he doesn’t have more than a few minutes. Maybe less.

Hershel’s hand rests heavily on Rick’s shoulder, shaking his head. All around you, there’s sobbing, screaming, but it’s like you’re underwater, hearing everything from far away. Andrea kneels by Dale’s head, holding his face in her hands, her voice thick with tears. "He’s suffering. Please, do something," she pleads, her words choked with anguish.

Rick steps forward, his movements slow, pained, as he pulls his gun from its holster. Shane’s eyes are wide, disbelieving, and everything feels like it’s happening too fast and too slow at the same time.

Rick moves to the front of Dale, trembling, his hands shaking so violently he can barely hold the gun straight. A long moment stretches out, the night air thick with silence, the only sound your pulse hammering in your ears and Dale’s ragged cries of pain.

Then Daryl steps forward. Quietly, firmly, he places his hand on the gun, gently taking it from Rick. Their eyes meet in silent understanding.

Oh god.

Suddenly, strong arms wrap around you, pulling you back, away from the horror in front of you. The grip is familiar, protective, and before you can fully process it, you bury your face into Shane’s chest. His voice is soft above you, almost soothing. "You don’t need to watch this." A sob breaks free from you as you clutch onto his shirt, your eyes squeezed shut.

"Sorry, brother," you hear Daryl say, his voice low, steady.

And then the gunshot splits the air, echoing across the clearing.

X flashback x

Daryl

Daryl barely had time to react before the first punch landed, sending a sharp shock of pain radiating through his jaw. He staggered back, but the two men were on him before he could find his footing, fists slamming into his ribs and stomach in brutal succession. He tried to block the blows, his body twisting, muscles screaming in protest as another punch hit his side. One of them grabbed his shirt, yanking him forward before driving a fist into his gut again, knocking the wind from his lungs.

Gasping, he doubled over, instinctively trying to cover himself, but they didn’t let up. The other guy aimed a hard kick at the back of his leg, making him stumble to his knees. Daryl’s vision blurred, the night around him spinning as they kept swinging, fists crashing into his body, splitting his lip, bruising his ribs. He spat blood onto the ground, breathing hard, every movement now a fight just to stay upright.

He tried to push himself up, gritting his teeth against the pain, but another kick knocked him flat, his body crumpling to the ground. His fingers dug into the gravel, breath ragged, as his thoughts raced—he was used to a fight, used to pain, but this… this was different. There was something more deliberate behind their blows, like they weren’t just out to hurt him—they were sending a message.

Just as his mind began to drift, the men grabbed him by the arms, roughly hoisting him to his knees. His body screamed in protest, his knees scraping against the dirt as they dragged him upright. Blood dripped from his mouth onto his jacket, and his head lolled forward, too heavy to lift for a moment. He coughed, trying to catch his breath, his entire body aching.

The sound of a car door slamming made his ears ring even louder, and as his eyes refocused, he saw a figure stepping out of the backseat, slowly walking toward him. Shane. Daryl’s jaw tightened, but even through the pain, he felt a surge of defiance rise up in him. There was no way in hell he was letting Shane win this.

The two men seemed to have done enough, as they hoisted him up, their arms coming up under his armpits to sit him on his knees, locking his arms behind him.

Shane came to a stop right in front of him, his eyes cold and full of fury. Without a word, he reached down and grabbed a fistful of Daryl's hair, yanking his head back so he had to look up at him. Daryl winced at the sharp pull but forced himself to meet Shane’s gaze, his lips curling into a defiant smirk.

"Guess my warning didn’t stick the first time, huh?" Shane’s voice was low, but dripping with venom. "You still hangin' around her, callin’ her, thinkin’ you can just ignore what I said?"

Daryl didn’t flinch. Despite the pain coursing through his body, despite the blood trickling down his chin, he wasn’t going to give Shane the satisfaction. His smile widened, even as the ache in his scalp grew. “Not my fault she enjoys my company more, Walsh,” he rasped, voice thick with mockery. "Maybe it’s just hard for me to ignore her when she’s the one who came to me .”

Shane’s grip tightened in Daryl’s hair, yanking his head back even further. “You think this is a game, huh? You think you can just run your mouth and keep screwin’ around behind my back?” Shane’s voice grew more threatening, his face inches from Daryl’s now. “I told you once—I’m tellin’ you again. Stay the hell away from her. Don’t talk to her, don’t even look at her. You see her, you turn the other way. Got it?”

Shane’s fury was palpable now, his whole body stiff with rage. For a moment, he just stared into Daryl’s eyes, the deep brown of them searching, thinking of his next move. Suddenly, he swung his free arm back and punched Daryl in the gut again, making him double over in the men’s hold. Then, he shoved Daryl’s head to the side, releasing his grip in disgust, the two men finally letting go. Daryl crumpled forward but caught himself, breathing hard, blood dripping from his lip onto the ground below him.

“Back off, Dixon,” Shane spat, stepping back as his fists clenched at his sides. “Or next time, I won’t be so fuckin' nice.”

[iekeejkeek]

More Doodle of weird show

[yesimwriting]

Hi! You asked us if you should keep the tension or let the bubble pop and all I have to say is KEEP YHR TENSION. 1. It does seem more realistic bc it doesn’t seem like the reader is the kind of person who would do that to her friends, and 2. The casually intimacy they all display with the bubbling tension of something more constantly keeps me going on the hard days, I NEED IT‼️ Like desperately (im so normal about this fic and is in no way unhealthy attached to it, why’d you ask?🙂*eye twitch*/j kinda) this actually got me thinking I wonder if other people ever notice how casually intimate they are? Like Stu’s naturally touchy but the way he dotes on her and the way Billy is just different from normal Billy when he’s with her,like not even just Randy, tate, and sid like other people who have known them for a while but they aren’t friends, like aquatints I’d love to see that

I’m sorry this spiraled, anyways all im saying is i personally love the tension, I love this story and I love you and you’re brilliance *MWAH <3* sorry for any spelling mistakes I was kinda rushing

a/n this ask is so sweet!! <3 also love the chance to expand on the final girl universe!!

i love this ask especially bc i feel like billy and stu have gotten so relaxed around final girl fic y/n that she probably just thinks they're like that and doesn't pick up on anyone finding it different 😭

the fic under the cut is in the final girl fic universe but it isn't a part of the main fic so it can be read as a stand alone

i think all the context needed is in the ask :) anyway here are some moments that made the people around billy, stu, and y/n raise their eyebrows a little 😭

----

"Billy." That's all it takes to snap him out of sludgy version of auto pilot he lets take over on days like this. Days that drag on in their mundaneness in a way that makes it hard for him to keep up the version of himself he's crafted for public display.

He turns his head, a strange type of fondness pinching his chest a little harder than usual thanks to the fact that you've saved him from whatever the peaked-in-high-school-quarterback-in-the-making was droning on about. Some party Billy would dip out of at the last minute or a recap of his last game.

You're smiling at him, casual but warm. He can take your appearance in more openly now than he did this morning when you were rushing to class. You're in a tank top that's a little low cut, paired with a cardigan that seems thin for today's weather. You're also wearing a skirt that's short enough to make him wish he had insisted on picking you up this morning instead of letting you walk.

Maybe he could get you to agree to a ride home. He could suggest it casually, bring up the idea of getting something to eat after school. Today's your least favorite lunch day, so it'd be an even easier sell than usual.

"Hey," he finally says when you're close enough, keeping his tone indifferent.

You stop farther than usual, eyes darting towards the walking varsity letter. It's a shift in attention that has the potential to jab at him, but the stiffness in your demeanor keeps Billy from spiraling in that direction.

"Uh...guess what?" A rhetorical question, probably an attempt to keep yourself from seeming too excited in front of the intruder. "Ms. Johnson paired us up for group projects today and this time she was a lot less mean to me...so that's cool."

Billy can almost feel the details that he's not getting because you're not alone. It's enough to make his apathetic feelings about the unwanted third party take on a violent tinge.

He wants to hear you talk more than usual today because it forces him to be present. It makes the aggravating need for patience go down easier. "So no more cheeto fingers?"

For a brief second, Billy's feels the comment in his chest. A call back to a joke you had only made a few times awhile ago. There's a chance you won't remember. A chance he remembers more than--you laugh, it comes out quick and clearly takes you by surprise.

You clamp your mouth shut, eyes glancing to the left again. "No more cheeto fingers on my notes or on my final project. I got paired with Stephanie McDonald, who I don't know for sure won't do the same thing, but she gave me a hair tie during PE one time so she doesn't seem the type."

Billy makes a mental note of the name, not being able to recall anything specific about anyone named Stephanie, but that doesn't mean he doesn't know her. It's Woodsboro, even if he's never met her he'll be able to find out something if he needs to. "Classy."

You tilt your head, eyes briefly squinting in that way that means you're trying to decide if he's teasing you or not. "You might be making fun of me, but she didn't even let me give it back."

"Not making fun of you." He shakes his head once, keeping his expression innocent, silently promising that he could never.

"Nah, that seems nice." A new voice that has you angling your body closer to the lockers. Billy fights the instinct to glare, wondering why he didn't give the guy a reason to leave as soon as he saw you. "Johnson's AP history, right?"

You nod instinctually, a small dip of your chin Billy can't fully read. "Yeah."

Billy knows the guy well enough, but they're not exactly friends. The guy's name is somewhere in Billy's head. After a second of thinking, all he can come up with is that it probably starts with a D. Damian? Or is Damian the other football player that's in his math class and always nods at Billy in the hallway?

"Cool," varsity jacket says it in a way that makes the word feel void of its typical meaning. Billy isn't sure where he's going with it, can't remember if he's one of those self proclaimed jocks that use high school as a four year power trip or just a guy that likes football. "You tutor?" The guy tilts his head, Billy presses his nails into the skin of his palm to resist the urge to step closer to you. "'Cause I wouldn't mind learning a thing or two from you."

The blatant line is finished with a bit of a laugh. Billy wants to role his eyes--a cop out in case you reject him. A built in safety net that makes it seem like he's almost making fun of you so he can laugh off your reaction if you don't instantly drop to his feet.

Your eyebrows draw together and even though your lips are neutrally set, something about your eyes makes it feel like you're frowning. Anger or annoyance for the sake of someone else is rare, Billy doesn't know how to handle the spike of defensiveness he feels. He's used to passiveness, never caring about who's messed with.

"Ignore him," the words are out of his mouth before he can stop himself, "He has a hard enough time keeping his GPA high enough to not get benched."

Billy doesn't know how factual that dig was, but the guy's face falls enough for Billy to assume his guess was accurate enough. The satisfaction of being right is nothing compared to what he feels when he looks at you.

Your lips are still pressed together, now in a way that's more amused than sad and your eyes are wide. The comment wasn't the kind of insult that Billy finds particularly cruel or hurtful but he knew you'd find it biting. Your reaction's enough to ease the tightening feeling in his chest without fully alleviating it. He needs to get you away before the guy says something else and more of Billy's control slips.

"You seen Stu?"

Billy knows the answer. "Yeah, this morning before homeroom." You stand a little straighter, one hand gripping the strap of your backpack. "His next class is next to mine, so I'll probably see him again in a second, why?"

"Good," he mumbles, reaching into his locker and grabbing a random notebook, "Can you give his notes back to him? He needs them back before fifth period and I missed him this morning."

Not true in the slightest, Billy knows Stu will go with it anyway. "Sure." You take the notebook, fingers brushing against his. "I'll go find him. See you later."

Billy nods as you turn away, "See you."

You're now gone. The guy who can't take a hint is still there. Maybe he's waiting for some kind of apology or explanation. Billy's turning on him does seem random considering that most of their conversation has revolved around Billy placidly agreeing to whatever. Instead of bringing anything up, varsity letter laughs. Billy raises his eyebrows, silently asking what that's about.

"Look, man, I get it, she's cute." That heavy feeling that Billy's always struggling to work with rises. The dark feeling twists its way around his lungs, making it hard to breathe without giving into impulse. "But she's so...nice and school...y." Cute, nice, and school-y. Those are the adjectives he's using to describe you. Billy was right to assume his grades are suffering. "It'd be like hooking up with a middle school try hard. Not worth whatever you're putting on."

The anger grows in density, a physical force expanding in his chest in a way that borders on painful. Rationality attempts to lighten the pressure, reminding him that it's a good thing this guy doesn't want anything to do with you. Logic tries to convince him that his focus should be on hardening himself, on making this guy and everyone else think that you're just another friend to him and that he's fully committed to Sidney.

Billy shuts his locker, harder than he meant to. "Good thing she'd never fuck you then."

The last of his patience and civility has been scorched, leaving nothing but bitter ash in its place. Billy walks away, already trying to think of an excuse to find you and Stu.

----

Stu turns angles his head to the side, just enough to look at you without really looking. You're content, watching some trailer with a measured level of investment. He focuses on that as you absentmindedly extend a hand to grab a few pieces of popcorn from the bag that he's still holding.

You're happy, he's here with you, that should be enough. It's no one's fault that more people that both of you know are here than he expected. That's the hard part of Woodsboro, one slip in front of the wrong person and the rumor mill will have an exaggerated version of events spread to over half the school by the next day. The guy that glommed onto Stu the second he noticed him in the theatre definitely falls into the category of wrong person.

Jacob whatever-his-last-name-is is a try hard. He's been searching for some kind of in, some kind of leverage on anyone that seems even slightly cooler than him since middle school. This need to be bigger and better has forced him into a permanent act that even good old, 'high school stereotypes are bullshit' Randy finds off putting.

You hadn't looked particularly bothered when Jacob stood up and waved Stu over, forcing the two of you to sit closer to the center of the theatre than Stu wanted. After realizing that the screening he had expected to be empty on a Saturday afternoon was crowded, Stu wanted to sit towards the back. It was a strategic goal, it would have given him the permission to be a little more openly touchy.

Stu had to actively focus on not holding it against you. You didn't complain or give any indication of feeling ambushed because you're nice to a point of fault.

"What'd you think of that one?" Stu shrinks down in an attempt to make whispering to you easier.

Your eyes shift away from the screen and towards him. "Hm..." You're debating, analyzing, "Not as good as the one before, but it doesn't look bad." You reach forward, taking another piece of popcorn and popping it into your mouth. "You?"

Honestly, Stu had been more focused on you than the trailers, but this last one had felt like a flat attempt to balance out horror with something artsy. But the chance to get to you is more appealing than just bashing a movie with a title he can't remember. "This one is so much better than the last one."

You snap your head away from the screen. "No." He presses his lips together to keep from grinning. What do you mean 'no'? You asked for an opinion. "You just want to start an argument."

He lets out a breath that's meant to take the place of a laugh. Is he getting that predictable? That transparent? "I never want to fight with you." You narrow your eyes, skeptical. "If Billy was here, he'd agree with me."

Your lips pull together in what's almost a pout. For a second, you're quiet, one hand coming to your opposite arm, smoothing the exposed skin quickly, like you're trying to keep warm. "He wouldn't and you know it."

"Okay," Stu's voice is suspiciously innocent, "We'll call him when he gets back from that thing with his dad."

Stu knows that Billy's dad tends to keep him out until late on weekend trips to the boat. When it gets too late to fish, he likes to keep them out on the water, spewing bullshit about Billy's mom because Billy can't escape.

"What are we going to do? Describe the movies over the phone or...?"

He raises an eyebrow, shrugging and letting his shoulder bump into yours, "Sounds like you're scared."

You grin, adjusting in your seat to make it easier to cross your arms. "Fine. If it's gonna be like that, we'll call him."

You're cold. You have to be. "Told you to bring a jacket," he sighs, already unzipping his hoodie.

"I'm fine, it's--" Too late. The jacket's already off and only somewhat awkwardly being pushed onto your lap. You touch one of the sleeves, oblivious to the way Stu struggles to look at you. "C'mon, Stu, now you'll be cold."

It's said so softly, so earnestly, Stu has to fight the urge to squirm. He can never tell if the nervous energy he feels makes him want to draw you in closer or force you away.

He ignores the touch of warmth rushing to his face. "I'm good." Stu shakes his head once, almost dismissively. "Run hot," he mumbles, finally glancing at you before nudging you with his elbow, "You know that."

You roll your eyes, smiling more than you mean to as you shrug on the jacket. The fabric is warm and criminally soft. "Totally." He'd call you out on your sarcasm, but you're already pulling on the jacket. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom."

"Sure you don't want to pick up some twizzlers before the movie starts?" You pause for a second too long and Stu knows that the suggestion has hit. Your eyes had lingered on the red plastic while buying tickets even though you insisted you didn't want them after accepting the fact that Stu wasn't going to let you pay for anything.

Scratching the back of your wrist, you give in with a sigh. "Okay." You start reaching for your purse. "I'll grab some." Stu reaches into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out some cash. "Stu."

"What?" He already knows where this is going. You're always trying to pay your own way. Every once in awhile, he lets you win just so that he can justify buying you something else. This is one of those things he probably should let go, but the additional shadow has already downed his mood. "I want them more than you do."

You sigh, pulling your purse onto your lap. "I have twizzler money."

"Oh, I'm sure, but my dad left me a bunch of cash before his latest trip and you're too pretty to buy your own twizzlers." Your resolve is cracking, like you often do whenever Stu mentions his parents. "C'mon, get me some milk duds, too."

Another sigh, the sound sharper as you let go of your purse. "You are so annoying." Stu smiles at the lack of bite in your tone as you stand, finally accepting the cash and putting it into the jacket's pocket.

"You love me, I keep you supplied in twizzlers."

You gasp, jaw dropping in offense. "Asshole."

He laugh as you turn away, "Remember the milk duds."

You glare, passive aggressively setting your bag on his lap. Stu takes it, adjusting his hold on it comfortably as you walk down the aisle.

"That's a fun thing you've got going there."

Stu can feel himself immediately tense even though Jacob's comment should feel innocent enough. There's just something about the way he says it, the hint of an edge implying more. Stu should be bothered because Jacob's the kind of guy who could turn this into a story for Tatum because he wants to have something over Stu. Instead, Stu's feeling defensive over Jacob looking at you like that.

Stu shrugs, "It's just Y/n."

Jacob's eyes briefly leave the screen before refocusing. "That was friendly even by your standards."

Feeling even more defensive over you and the way he acts around you, Stu sits up straighter. "We're friends."

"Yeah," Jacob concedes, amusement in his voice that Stu doesn't quite get, "And she's turning you into a softie."

That hits him in a different way. Sure, Stu's nice to you, nicer than he is to some guy that doesn't get that no one likes him. Stu can also admit that he's touchy with you and likes taking any excuse to be close to you. But he's not soft about it.

"What?"

Jacob laughs, the sound restrained, like he's scared he'll forget where he is and give in fully. "You're cold, here's my jacket."

Stu scoffs. That wasn't--you're--whatever, it's not like Stu cares about what Jacob thinks. He'll do what he wants, treat you however he feels like. You're the only one that comes close to getting him outside of Billy, Jacob could never get that.

"Whatever, man." Stu mumbles, hoping that you'll come back before he can get too caught in his own head. The lack of aggression in his own comment surprised him and he's not sure how much longer he'll be able to keep it up.

Another preview begins to play on the screen and for a brief second, it feels like that might be the end of the conversation. "If my friends looked like that, I wouldn't mind acting like that either."

Stu tightens his grip on the arm rest. "Maybe if you didn't make everything a thing, you'd have some."

"You're the one holding her purse," Jacob mumbles, attention turning back to the screen as if that proved something.

Stu's knuckles strain white. There's nothing sensitive about the way he feels about you. It's not Stu's fault he can't pursue right now the way he wants to, and if this asshole knew half the stuff you let him get away with he wouldn't be so smug. "Fuck off."

Maybe the comment could have been played off if Stu's tone had been lighter, more relaxed. But he didn't. It landed with the same intensity a threat would, and Stu's not completely sure he didn't mean it that way.

Soft. Hard to call someone that's pulling out your insides soft. He'd have to wait for Billy to get back, talk the idea up to him and explain why someone they've tolerated on and off since middle school deserves a call. It'd be worth it, though, because should they really leave someone that talks about you like that? Why shouldn't Stu treat you in a way that's totally normal?

"Hey," you whisper, slipping back into your seat, "Guess who got the last box of milk duds." Stu's attention shifts to you, that bloody itch becoming a lot more bearable as you smile a him. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he eases, "Commercials are just getting worse."

You stop tearing into the top of the box enough to look at Stu and wrinkle your nose. "I feel you." You shake out a few pieces of chocolate into your cupped palm. Stu expects you to take them, but you don't. You just extend both hands, the box and the candy you had gotten out. When Stu doesn't react, you prompt him, "Here."

Stu moves his hand, letting you spill them into his palm, the edge of your pinky briefly resting against his. The gesture is so gentle he almost feels like he's being suffocated by it. Stu takes his hand back silently. If you notice the change in his demeanor, you don't comment on it. Instead, you just take your bag back and hand him the unopened pack of twizzlers and box.

The latest commercial comes to an end and the screen fades to the start of the opening credits. "Okay," you whisper, "Last chance to predict if this movie's going to be good or not."

"I picked it," Stu says, moving his hand enough to have the milk duds roll into each other, "Why would I think that it's bad?" He's not acting normal enough, he can feel it. "Why would you come if you think it'd be bad?" A weak question, considering that Stu knows sometimes you purposefully watch the worst movies you can find for entertainment.

You don't point out that sometimes trashy movies are worth the suffering, you just shrug. "I don't know, I kinda just wanted to hang out with you."

Something in Stu's chest cracks. His face feels warmer than it did a second ago. He's not one to feel mushy or look into tone the way Billy does from time to time, but you had said it so innocently.

"Aw," he hums, finally coming back to himself, "You like me."

"Shut up," your response is immediate, "Movie's starting."

He leans down, placing a hand over the one you're laying on the arm rest. "You like me."

You roll your eyes, "Give me a twizzler."

----

He knew. Even when Stu was still insisting that they were capable of keeping it together enough to keep the circle of people small, Billy knew that the night would turn into a party.

Billy's annoyed and slowly becoming genuinely irritated thanks to the beer and pot mixing together on an empty stomach and the drowsiness that came for him with no warning. Everything feels louder now, heavier.

He shuts his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose harder than he should. Another 20 minutes, half an hour tops, and he'll get Stu to start shutting it all down.

The only good thing about nights like these is that you crash with them. You always choose to sober up at Stu's even though your mom doesn't seem like a hard ass when it comes to drinking. You still don't want her or your practical step dad seeing you drunk and you can't help that other people are smoking, which is something you've made clear your mom would kill you over.

It'll take some time getting you into bed. Unless you're drunk enough, you'll offer to sleep on the couch, like the three of you haven't justified sleepovers before. Sometimes drunk you has a tendency to get a second wind out of nowhere. If you get all hyper on him then it'll take even longer.

"Billy!" He opens his eyes and you're there.

He smiles easily, watching as you walk towards him. "Hey."

You stretch out an arm slowly, open palm gently pushing his arm. There's something sluggish about the movement and something else in the way you nearly miss him all together. Are you that drunk? Stu said he'd watch your drinks.

"Hay...is for horses," you state blankly, almost like some external force had possessed you to get the thought out coherently. And then you burst into a fit of tired giggles.

Billy presses his lips together. He knows you, knows how you get when you're not handling your alcohol. This isn't exactly that. It's more like you at the beginning of...

Ugh. You didn't--Stu didn't--With a sigh, Billy grabs your arm and glances around the room. Everyone's caught up in their world, and even though Sid's around here somewhere, there's nothing inherently suspicious about Billy checking on you. Especially while you're like this.

Still, better safe than sorry when Billy's not in the mood for self control. He tugs you forward, you follow as he leads you two to a nearby corner. You barely protest when Billy angles you so that your back's against the wall.

Billy squeezes your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, tilting your head so that you have to look him in the eye.

"Hey--" You mumble, protesting a second too late, "Oh, I just," you laugh, "--I said the horse thing."

Great. Your eyes are tinged red and considering the fact that Billy saw you take a few shots earlier...

He told you at the start of the night to pick one, and the easy decision for everyone had been for you to stick with alcohol. Drunk you can handle crowds and the general party atmosphere. High you is clingy and easily startled and usually more complicated to deal with.

Billy watches you intently. It only takes you a second to still in his hold, staring at him in a way that makes it harder to keep his edge. "You're high." It's not an accusation, it's a statement. "And drunk."

Your eyebrows pinch together briefly. It'd be easy to lie for the sake of it. "Not high," you defend weakly, "I smoked a little, but not--it wasn't that--I'm good. Not high."

He sighs, letting go of your face. "I told you to stick to one."

"You and Stu smoke and drink at the same time all the time." Billy just stares blankly. It's not a strong defense, but it's all you have. "'S'not a big deal."

Not a big deal now. Just wait until later when it's hitting you harder and tomorrow morning, when you're hungover. Then it'll be a big deal and it'll be his big deal.

"No?" You tilt your chin down in a barely there nod, trying to solidify your stance. "You do whatever you want now?"

You sigh, lips pulling downwards in a slight pout. "It's not like that."

"Who gave it to you?"

Your eyes won't meet his. "I don't--" You cut yourself off, still aware enough that trying to hide things at this point is the quickest way to make things take a turn for the worst right now. "Stu let me use his--a little--but it wasn't like that. It was only a little."

Yeah, considering how red your eyes are and how much slurring and concentration it took for you to get through that, Billy really doubts it was as little as you're trying to convince him. "You're going to feel sick tomorrow."

To be fully honest, you can see that, a tiny bit of off-ness already starting to pull at the edge of your current buzz. You also don't love the way the usual giddiness of alcohol is blending with the easy uncertainty of your high. But Billy doesn't need to know that right now.

"'M okay." True enough, since you're not actively spiraling, "But I believe you."

He hasn't eased and a part of you is now starting to feel bad. You know you're not the easiest person to deal with when you're like this, but you also don't think you've done anything particularly annoying. His sour mood is starting to make what's wrong about your buzz feel magnified. Yeah, Billy told you to stick to one thing but he didn't make it sound like it was a big deal to him.

You swallow once, ignoring how dry your mouth feels. "C'mon." Billy's still close, within grabbing distance. The second you realize that it'd be easy to touch him, you reach out and place a hand on his arm. "Don't be mad."

He tenses under your touch, but you don't move your hand away. "Thought we didn't listen to each other." You half-sigh-half-groan as you drop your forehead against Billy's chest. He doesn't push you off, which has to be a good sign.

Billy places a palm on your back, rubbing soothing circles against the fabric of your shirt. "Let's get some water."

That feels okay enough, so you straighten, nodding once. "Okay."

He keeps a hand on your back, leading you back towards the main area of the party and into the kitchen. You're quiet as you walk, instinctually following Billy without question.

"Hey, I was looking for you--" Stu cuts himself off as soon as he sees Billy's expression. "You guys good?"

You nod placidly, "'M good, he's--"

"You gave her some?"

Stu holds his hands up in defense, "She was begging for it."

Begging is definitely an exaggeration. You want to explain, to defend the situation and take just enough blame to keep the peace without making yourself look like the bad guy. The words jam themselves in your head, twisting until they're in such a knot that all you can manage to get out is, "Nuh-uh."

Stu turns to glare at you, "So when I'm the bad guy it's all 'please' and 'I thought we were best friends' and 'it'll be our secret' but the second it goes a little bad you run to Bill--"

"Didn't run," you defend, but it doesn't matter, it's like you didn't say anything.

"You told her not to tell me?"

"No." The single syllable is so urging you can almost imagine that the question sobered him up. "I didn't say that."

There's a weird wave of tension between them, so thick and tangible a small part of you can't believe that the rest of the party continued, unaffected. You get why Stu snapped back to normal so quickly. "Guys," you try, even though you have no idea where you're going with this, "I just--I asked--asked like a lot--but I didn't beg. And it's--" You squeeze your eyes shut, really wishing you had been better at hiding your high. "It's not worth fighting over." Squinting your eyes open, you cross your arms across your stomach, hoping it'll make you seem more awake. "I love you guys, 'm good, let's just chill out for a second."

Billy and Stu both blink, exchanging a look that you don't get. You know you wouldn't get it if you were sober, either. It's one of their moments, a silent exchange you can't imagine anyone else ever getting.

Stu breaks the silence with a laugh. "She's way more out of it than I thought." You glare at that, not finding anything funny in what you said. You were nice, you diffused the tension. They're such assholes. And you always hate when they talk about you like you're not right there.

You glare. Maybe ditching them's still an option. They'd eventually accuse you of pouting, but there's a chance it'd be worth the future teasing. You could find Sid and Tate again, hang out until you calmed down.

"Aw," Stu hums, reaching for you, "She's pouting."

You push at the hand on your shoulder, too tired and distracted to be good at getting him off of you. "Am. Not." Stu squeezes harder. Normally, that'd just get you to fight back more openly, but now your stomach feels tight and things are starting to feel too warm. "Stu, knock it off--I'm nauseous."

Billy presses his hand against your back, the pressure comforting. "Give her a minute."

Stu lets go but makes a point of staying close. "You okay, sweetheart?"

Nodding slowly, you focus on feeling the words coming out of your mouth. "Yeah, yeah."

"You need to step out? Get some air?"

You shake your head once. You're okay, stable. "I'm good."

Billy's hand moves up and down your back gently. "You need to drink water."

The fighting risk is gone now. You should be completely happy, but the conflict rubbed you the wrong way and you're starting to feel like you might need space from them. "I kinda want to look for Sidney and Tatum."

"C'mon, cutie." Stu takes your hand gently, squeezing it softly. "Don't be like that." You're torn between arguing that you're not being like anything and telling them that they started it. "Do what you want, but no one's going to want to put up with you like this."

The comment stings more than it should. It's been mentioned before, that you're the the lightweight, the one that can't handle their substances and takes over without meaning to. Never cruelly, but it still hurts. "Mean."

"Not that mean," Stu pulls on your hand, "Because you love us."

You roll your eyes, hating past you for letting that come out. "Not right now."

Stu starts walking forward, you follow without complaining. "Don't say things you don't mean."

Billy's stays close as you walk, one hand on your back as you're guided to the kitchen. There are some people lingering around the fridge and the bar, but it's a lot less crowded than the main living room.

You stop at the island counter, moving to push yourself onto it with no warning. It takes Billy less than a second to pick up on what you want, he keeps a hand on your waist to stabilize you as you sit.

"Here." Stu hands you a glass filled with ice water.

You take a few long sips before setting it down next to you.

"Better?" It worked a little too well, and a part of you hates them for it. You reluctantly nod. "Told you."

More like Billy told you, but you're not opening that up again.

A small half-scoff-half-laugh snaps the three of you out of your bubble. Stu turns his head towards a semi-familiar blonde holding a beer bottle, "What?"

"Nothing." The voice is also familiar. A girl named Marley that used to hang around freshman year. "Just remembering the first time I got high and freaked out, you told me to get it together."

You crane your neck to look at the stranger, unsure if her comment's meant to attack Stu or you. "I'm not freaking out."

"Yeah," Stu defends, placing a comforting hand on your knee, "It's just water, Marley, if that's an issue, go be bitter somewhere else."

The girl scoffs, "Not bitter, just different."

You soften a little at that. Maybe she hadn't meant to come off as that hostile.

Stu shrugs, "I've grown." You watch the exchange curiously, wondering how well they know each other. There's a chance they met in kindergarten or on the first day of middle school or in some random sophomore class. Sometimes living in a small town that you didn't grow up in is the constant fear of becoming a third wheel in a matter of seconds. "In more ways than one."

Marley pretends to scoff, "Yeah, I'm out." She holds her hands up in a display of surrender before walking away.

"You know she used to be obsessed with me."

There's a 50-50 chance he's exaggerating. A more sober, more adjusted you would be able to make an educated guess, but right now you can't and for whatever reason that twists your stomach. You reach for your glass, taking a few sips to stabilize yourself.

"He's delusional," Billy corrects, voice so low you think you might be the only one that hears it. "She used to hang around, mainly for Sidney and Tatum, but never stuck." You nod absentmindedly. "No one else did before you."

The comment is small, muttered like saying it felt like pulling teeth. You smile regardless, way more warmed by it than you should be. Billy finally looks back at you. For a second, you let yourself openly watch him. A wave of casual drowsiness hits you with no warning, so you lean forward, resting your forehead against Billy's shoulder.

"You okay, angel?" Stu places a hand on your back. "Jealousy making you feel a little sick?"

You let out a breath that's almost a laugh as you force yourself to straighten. "You're right," you look at Billy, "He is delusional."

"Hey," Stu makes a point of poking you in the shoulder, "Don't be mean."

"You're right, I'm totally obsessed with you and--" A yawn breaks your sentence into two, "Close to bursting into jealous rage."

Stu's fingertips brush up and down your arm. "You're staying over, right?"

You nod, "Mhm, if that's okay."

He almost rolls his eyes. You're always prone to formality, always wanting to make sure that you're not bothering anyone. "I'd never kick you out of bed, sweetheart." You try to glare at him, but you're too tired to seem bothered. "You should go lay down for a little, I'm going to start kicking people out."

Hm. You are tired, but you never like being the first to go, the first to head upstairs and be left alone. You're about to protest, insist that you're fine when Billy speaks up, "I'll go, too." Billy straightens, holding out a hand to help you hop off the counter. "Over it."

You take his hand, getting off the counter with minimal complications. Billy moves an arm around your shoulder, deciding that that'd be the quickest way to help you get to the stairs.

[draganwhorror]

Sam Raimi as Randy - Intruder (1989)