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jxmimac · 7 days

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A Hockey Billy & Stu Fanfic but I get all the Hockey bits wrong (Stuilly)

Before the events of SCREAM, in an alternative universe where these two somehow tried Hockey.

Summary: Billy and Stu were never cut out for Hockey, but they want to leave the team with a BANG. Warnings: THIS IS A CRACK FIC, IT'S SO STUPID. Words: 2.1k ⓘ This is lovingly dedicated to someone who might kill me for writing this, @the-a-archives!

It is always fun to look at a doofus in their natural habitat, but there was a special kind of endearment that Billy Loomis felt when looking at Stu Macher, the chaos ball himself, diving head into a silly plan that would only make himself (and possibly Billy) laugh.

There were no words spoken between them, really. Instead, there was just a nearly maniacal giggle from Stu that showed all his teeth and scrunched his face in an endearingly psychopathic way. Just the way Billy liked it, just that at this moment Billy had no idea what was going through his man’s mind. The heartthrob observed quietly however, attentive to what the hell Stu was doing with super glue and a bunch of hockey pucks.

Just… what the hell…

“Hang on tight, man. You’ll see. It’s going to be a scream!” Stu excitedly whispered, unable to stop himself from raising the volume as he began to… glue the pucks together?

Now Billy Loomis was interested, squatting down a bit to look at it closer – lowering at the same speed in which his smile stretched on his face. This surely would be a scream. Perhaps not the kind of thrill Billy had been craving for some time, but a thrill to satiate that growing need for mischief until the time for his masterplan was right. This would do, indeed, something to occupy him and Stu’s mind.

How did we even get here?

“TOUCHDOWN, LOSER, HAHAHAHA!” A loud, shrill of a voice echoed across the ice, crawling under Billy Loomis’ skin and grating at his ears. It oozed cockiness, it dripped with obnoxiousness and Billy could feel his grip tightening on the hockey stick. The tool for the sport suddenly shifted to surely become a deadly weapon in his hands, certain to swing at anyone’s head and not miss.

In his field of vision were the soon-to-be bystanders of today’s massacre. Lots of hockey players sliding across the ice with the elegance and dexterity of footballers on a bad day, but just off to the sidelines laid Stu on the ice cold floor, absolutely flat like a cartoon and in full Hockey glam. He had been slammed against the fence and now laid almost motionless. Well, it may have been because Billy’s vision slowed the world down to a stand-still, or it could be because Stu really laid there motionless for what seemed to be embarrassingly long minutes. Oh, Billy felt his ear turn red with the need of revenge, having watched the cocky and confident player just slide away from Stu after knocking him down by mere luck. Billy knew Stu was fast enough to never get caught in the way of any player, so for this to happen Billy knew there had to be some luck involved!

But he can’t get lucky two times, especially after scoring a full strike, three-pointer clean for his team to goad about later in the locker rooms.

Ah, it was like a beast suddenly took over Billy’s motor skills, driving him to run faster than ever across the icy field – becoming just a mere black and white blur dashing past the oblivious players who kept on playing their mundane little game, thinking he was shooting for a strategy. Billy had entirely different intentions at that moment, intentions that only became clear for the star player once he turned around to find Billy gunning it for him. Way too fast, with way too much rage.

Stu, on the other hand, could only recollect himself and stand up after a brief moment to contemplate whether this stupid sport was worth it or not. Sure, it was fun to get to smash a guy against a walk and kick the shit out of them (“accidentally”), but was it really worth the “discipline” and the “passion” and the fucking smug looks from guys who will certainly dedicate their entire life to tarping off everytime they score a three-point? Is it worth all the times the coach shouted at him and tried to humiliate him for his ego trip? No fucking way, not when this unfunny part could happen. Not when just hitting a player with the stick to the groin was something worthy of the “penalty box” but this was left unpunished to the star quarterback of the team.

“Puck this,” Stu said, thinking he was really funny for the pun, but the moment his vision cleared and he stood up straight, he observed a chaotic scene unfolding before him.

The players were still, like completely, almost in awe, and –.

“Oh fuck,” Stu dropped the pun, hearing the pathetic cries from the star player trying desperately trying to block Billy’s savage punches while everyone just stood there, unsure of what to do until the coach shouted at them to do something.

The point guard, pitchers, midfielders and goalkeepers dashed past Stu and tried to approach the situation with caution while Stu wondered…

Why is Billy beating the shit out of the star player with his bare fist?

The fucking Zamboni read “Passion Lives Here” across its carcass. This once-standard issue Zamboni sparkled uniquely with a fucking sticker written in fancy cursive that was too tacky to be taken seriously, modified like it was meant to go out on the street and show case this metal canvas to the commoners. Billy could not fucking believe it, neither could Stu and he was behind the wheel of said Zamboni.

The purring engine of the machine languidly filled the empty field, the bits of fresh blood and embarrassment cleaned and forgotten (by Billy and Stu, not by the bruised up Quarterback) but the penalty still fresh on their hearts. The duo were in charge of getting the damn field clean and other bullshit that is supposed to instill “discipline on them.” And why? Well, just because Billy decided to beat the shit out of their star player. In our eyes, justly! In their eyes, not so.

“Really man, you didn’t have to do all of that,” Stu said almost seriously, his face neutral until he read the fucking sticker written in cursive. Passion Lives Here. He could barely drive straight at the look of it.

Billy, however, was hanging on from the side with that serious and cool look of his; he merely observed his boyfriend work this gargantuan machine. His knuckles started to sting but were already wrapped up and clean – and yet, he felt like he was cut short too soon. “I had to, the guy was laughing a little too much for my liking.”

Stu snickered, shrugging his shoulders a bit too exaggeratedly. “It’s whatever man, he’s a fucking loser,” Stu laughed. “Fucker can’t even use the right term. It’s not a touchdown, it’s homerun.”

Silence, accompanied only by the low drone of the Zamboni. I can feel a pair of flaming eyes staring down at me. It’s okay, dear reader. It’s only wrong if you think it’s wrong. I personally think I’m pretty right here.

Anyways.

To finally cut the silence short, Stu continued. “Whatever, man. I had an idea to fuck with these losers man and I’m going through with it, it’s gonna be so fun.”

Billy looked up at Stu, curious and with an eyebrow raised. “What do you mean?”

Stu looked around mischievously and leaned in closer to Billy. “I’m thinking of quitting the team, too–.”

“I didn’t quit, fuckrag. I was kicked out–.”

Stu waved that away. “Tomato potato, dude. Listen, I think before I do, we gotta do something to teach them a lesson.”

Billy looked at him, eyebrows raised. It almost read like Billy was asking a very pointed question that normally we would not understand. Let me translate it for you. He was asking: “A lesson involving knives, stabbing and a lot of blood?”

To this, Stu shook his head with a big, goofy grin. “Not that kind, just harmless good fun,” he paused, whipping the Zamboni around sloppily. “A good ol’ prank, ever heard of those?”

“So, the boring kind of lesson,” Billy said straight after, pretending to be uninterested. “I’ll skip this one, thank you.”

But Stu didn’t take it personally, knowing his heart would change once he knew what he planned. “Oohh, what are you going to do? Pretend to love Sidney for a few hours?” Stu pressed, laughing and sticking his tongue out.

To which Billy promptly jabbed him in his rib, knowing it would only make him laugh more. “Better than your silly prank.”

In between breathless laughter, Stu replied. “Just give it a chance, will ya?”

And a chance was all Billy needed to be convinced.

You see, Billy found something rather beautiful in the mundane pranks. Harmless, yes, which wasn’t as fun, but still rather evil. And yet! It was socially accepted to be as mean as you could and not get in too much trouble. All you had to say was: “It’s just a joke.”

There they were, like two rascals seated together on the floor grabbing a bunch of pucks and gluing them together in this amalgamation of nightmares. However, this wasn’t the only thing these two did. Standing over their monstrous creation of black miasma, Billy grabbed Stu’s shoulder and said: “I got more ideas.”

And more ideas they did get indeed.

The ice was filled with confused men trying to figure out what ancient demon did they piss off for this to happen. The moment the gates were open and the blades started to roll in, many of them face planted SQUARE on the cold ice, pathetically. The laughter erupted when the first fell in, then it intensified when the second one fell. Then more of them fell as they came in and suddenly there was not a lot of laughing. Those who had left their water bottles unattended by the side made a crucial mistake as they rolled off and laughed at their fallen teammates. Two shadows swiftly performed an evil little trick, replacing the fresh water with something best left to the imagination, ducking back out of anyone’s sight before they could be seen. At the same time, a group of confused players, undeterred by the chaos of the fallen men who could not get up for some reason, grabbed the mass of pucks and tried to pry them off the best they could. It grabbed the attention of two who tried to brute force, then the others who just slammed it on the ground in hopes it could come apart like glass. Soon enough there was a bunch of doofuses hitting the mass of pucks with their sticks like dumb villagers trying to kill cockroaches, all the while someone unfortunate made the error to get a splash of water to quench the thirst brought on by the laughter, only to instantly spit it out against a teammate who did not take it as kindly. First a shove, then a fist, then absolute chaos.

Just picturing this, Billy and Stu would be satisfied seeing these dumbasses start shouting and fighting with each other, while some poor bastard has to be dragged out of the ice. But there was just something missing, something that would satiate that strange sadistic nature brewing within the dynamic duo.

With pockets full of itchy powder, Billy and Stu connected gazes one more time.

“You ready, cowboy?” Stu said through his unstoppable laughter, bowing and offering the freshest packet of ultra itchy powder – the only one he could get from the store.

With a wicked smirk and a pleased look in his eyes, Billy grabbed it. Without a word uttered, Billy said everything he needed with a chaste, but passionate kiss to Stu. Sealed with a smile and him dashing off to slide into the icy field.

And of course, Stu with his impish grin and reinvigorated resolve, tailed right behind him.

The poor players had barely registered both Billy and Stu laughing from afar, only noting too late that they had dashed right past them and thrown itchy powder on the most distracted members. Some brave players tried to grab them, failing miserably and getting itchy powder right on their face, rendering them useless instantly.

“Touchdown, LOSERS!!” Stu laughed as he glided so effortlessly out of people’s grip, hearing that sweet sound of angry players calling them all kinds of slurs and insults, yet being unable to see where the hell they were headed.

Ah, sweet, sweet symphony of chaos that filled the rink that only got better as the coach appeared to yell his head off about what the hell was happening, threatening to kick Stu out of the team as if he cared.

They may have not made history as the best players, but they sure—.

Billy opened his eyes…

It was all a wicked dream.

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jxmimac · 7 days

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promoting my silly scream role swap au again because i finally updated after several months <3

summary:

Billy Loomis was sixteen- going on seventeen years old when his parents divorced and his mother abandoned him, leaving him mostly alone in a world that couldn't understand him, and feeling broken beyond repair. Sidney Prescott was sixteen years old when she stood before the corpse of her mother's killer. Blood dripping down her front, a red glistening knife clasped firmly in one hand and a plastic mask in the other, with a smile on her lips.

(includes billy/stu, sid/tatum (murder gfs) as well as good ol gale/dewey, my beloveds)

snippet from the newest chapter (7) below

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When noon had passed and the sun was slowly sinking from its peak in the sky, Billy found himself consumed entirely within his thoughts once more. His head felt heavy with the weight of the knowledge that he was currently the target of this masked killer, who could be stalking him right at that very moment, he wasn’t so much scared as he was confused, recalling the phone call he’d had with his attempted murderer the evening prior, they had made it sound as if they knew him in a sense. It was that fact that had him more confused than anything.

‘It’ll be fun Billy, just like old times.’

Just like old times. He’d been scratching his head all night, wondering what that could possibly mean. Of course he found no answers. He wasn’t exactly a detective. Had he not been intimately involved in the case like he happened to be, he wouldn’t think much of it, either the police would catch the murderer or they would kill a few more times, get bored and slip away unnoticed and eventually, become just another topic of Woodsboro gossip as the years passed by. But it couldn’t be that simple, no, of course not.

The killer, whomever they were, had painted a very obvious target on his back. And not just his own, but Stu’s as well, considering they had attempted to frame him and failed. Billy wondered, still, what their goal had been there. If he was correct in assuming the killer in fact was a student like themselves, then they must have known that they were close. Creepy, really, he’d never thought he’d ever have a stalker in his life yet here he was. He wondered if the killer was watching him right now, lurking through the trees in the park, or perhaps from within a car, their eyes never leaving him, constantly vigilant of his every move.

Jesus, get it together. He couldn’t afford to lose himself in total paranoia right now, he needed to be on guard but not so much that he actively lost his mind with the thought of being struck down at any time.

“–again, buddy.”

Billy blinked, snapping himself out of his stupor. Stu was watching him expectantly, a crooked grin pulling at his lips as if amused. Admittedly, Billy hadn’t heard him speak at all.

“What?”

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jxmimac · 7 days

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Debaserverse Fics Chronological Order

Since all my fics are set in the same universe I figured it would be useful to make a post to clarify how they connect.

Butterfly Eater (It’s Good to Have a Friend Your Age)

Debaser (Cis or Trans version) chapters 1-9

Can I get a ticket to the gun show? (Hooking up with you feels like Russian roulette) *Only has a trans version but the cis and trans chronologies are the same

Hey! (You still like me when I’m like this)

Debaser (Cis or Trans version) chapters 10-16

Wave of Mutilation (Cis or Trans version)

Happiness is a gun warmed by your insides (guns are to dicks as shooting is to cuming) *only has a trans version

Just a reminder there are cis and trans versions of some of these, but the differences are mostly in the sex scenes. They’re all in the same timeline though, so you should be able to go from the cis version of Debaser (for example) to Can I Get A Ticket to the Gun Show (which only has a trans version) and not be confused.

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jxmimac · 7 days

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Billy Loomis and Stu Macher Barbenheimer Headcanons:

Stu wants to go see Barbie so badly, but he pretends he doesn’t because of Billy.

Billy thinks Barbie is ridiculous, why would he want to go see a movie about a doll? He wants to see Oppenheimer, that’s real cinema.

Billy books tickets for Oppenheimer opening night so Stu books tickets for the screening of Barbie right after.

“I think Barbie’s stupid too Billy, but it’s this whole thing. You can’t see one without the other, everyone is doing it.”

Stu buys them both grey Barbie hoodies for the night, Billy grudgingly wears his under a jacket.

Stu fell asleep halfway through Oppenheimer and all he can remember are boobs.

Billy won’t admit that, while Oppenheimer was a great movie, he got a bit restless in the third act because he had already being sitting in the uncomfortable cinema chairs for 2 hours at that point.

Stu LOVES the fun of Barbie and how everyone is dressing up in pink. He makes sure to tell all the girls he thinks looks good that they do.

Stu is practially bouncing in his chair the whole movie, gripped by it.

He definitely is one of the loudest laughers in the theatre.

Billy laughs quietly to himself at the Kendom jokes.

Won’t admit that he actually thought the movie was okay.

Spends the next week with ‘I am Ken’ stuck in his head.

Stu orders an ‘I Am Kenough’ jumper.

See’s the movie 2 more times in cinema

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jxmimac · 7 days

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What’s the fic calleddddd?

okay so in my fic Billy and Stu get bullied by Steve Orth and Casey Becker and that’s why they kill them but now I need an insult for Steve to frequently use for Billy cuz I can’t decide

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jxmimac · 7 days

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Movies Make Ticklers More Creative (Billy/Stu)

Summary: A bad horror film leaves Stu seeking entertainment in other forms, at the expense of Billy. (Thank you to the person who suggested I use the film Ghoulies as the movie in this fic!! Here is a YouTube link to the tickle scene in this movie, it is…Something for sure!! I haven’t seen the whole movie btw, just that clip as well as reading a few articles about it, so sorry if I’ve gotten any of the lore wrong. Regardless, it has an 8% on Rotten Tomatoes, so…)

As usual, Stu’s parents aren’t home, and he is filling the silence with the sounds of beer cans cracking open, hands rustling in the bowl of popcorn, girlish screams from the television speakers, and Billy’s commentary from the couch beside him.

After making their way through all the classic horror films, the boys have resorted to watching whatever they can find, whether they end up being fantastic deep cuts, or they absolutely suck, but joking about it makes it worth the watch.

Tonight’s movie is proving to be the latter. It’s a film called “Ghoulies” from ‘85, and it’s…Well, it’s keeping them entertained, for sure, but there is nothing disturbing (nor inspiring) about it. The scares are cheap, and the dialogue is atrocious.

Billy comments that the main chick, Donna, is kind of hot. Stu hums in agreement, but his heart isn’t quite in it. When the guy takes her out by the lake, though, their interests are piqued. This should be the part where Donna loses her chance of becoming the final girl, where she loses her virginity to the first schmuck who tries, and both the teens die a terrible death for daring to engage in premarital sex.

Keep reading

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jxmimac · 7 days

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Peter would absolutely be there stirring shit up

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jxmimac · 7 days

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Say it louder bby

We hate him

#mphfpc #mphfpc meme #julius purcell

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jxmimac · 8 days

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Gotcha (Billy/Stu)

Summary: Before enacting their plans, Billy and Stu need to be sure they’re physically fit enough to pull it all off, leading to ridiuclousness. (Based on this anonymous prompt, thank you so much for sending it in!! Warnings because there is mentions of canon-typical violence. Hope y’all enjoy the fic!! xo)

“If we’re really going to do this, we should start training,” Billy says idly, like they’re discussing running a marathon rather than a murderous plot.

Stu laughs at first, before realizing that Billy is serious. “Train? Like, go hunting?”

“No, dipshit,” he replies, but there’s a lack of venom in his voice. “Have you ever seen a movie where the victim just lays back and lets the killer stab ‘em? People are gonna fight back, and we can’t afford any mistakes.”

It’s a good point, Stu concedes, and thus begins their ridiculous regime of what he likes to call “Killer Camp”, and even though Billy rolls his eyes at the title, Stu knows he finds it funny as well.

True to its name, Woodsboro has many spots that are thick with trees and shielded by the dark of nighttime, giving them an ideal place to practice. With nothing but two flashlights and two knives, the boys set off into the forest at least once a week. It sort of feels like playing a combination of hide-and-seek and tag, except when you get caught, the other person pushes you to the ground and presses a semi-dull blade to the side of your neck.

Keep reading

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jxmimac · 8 days

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How fucking bold can you be?

I mean, that was the question of the night, wasn’t it? Billy and Stu, pulling off a massacre. Billy and Stu, cornering Ms. Final Girl, Ms. Surviving Non-Virgin. The only one who makes it out of a horror movie, but wouldn’t this time. Billy and Stu, spitting free their motives — rather, motive — to the last living bastards in the house.

And yet, Billy was standing here, blanking at how bold Stu could possibly be. Besides all of the slaughtering that just occurred.

Sure, one moment he’s speaking to Sidney, the moment he’s been fuckin’ yearning to glean. The day he’s rued with wide eyes and set teeth forming an ugly-pretty smile.

And then, Stu comes up behind him.

It’s normal, actually. Nothin’ special. I mean, if you wanna get technical, they knew each other very well, on many levels. Among these levels included carnal, which- honestly, it didn’t take a genius to decipher. But hey, people weren’t usually on the hungry lookout for queers to disdainfully sniff at and pass by, were they?

So what, as Stu sidles up to him, the heat radiating off of him and right onto Billy? What’s the big bleeding fuss, as they’re ratting themselves out to a proclaimed dead-woman? Not that she sees, or cares.

But then, Stu presses forward, and oh, god.

It’s not something dirty, no, not exactly. It’s not outright lewd. But it is. It so is.

Because Stu’s leaning his whole self into Billy, front to back, cupping him in this upright-spoon. He’s pressing close, fitting to Billy like a lanky glove, and his body heat’s now flaring straight from within Stu, and soaking right into Billy.

It’s sick, and twisted, and downright fucking hot.

He notices it in the back of his mind, but it’s too damn right to be a coherent thought. Billy grins.

“Tell that to Cotton Weary.”

Stu’s got his chin rest on the back of Billy’s shoulder, on the mothering muscle of his scapula, so Billy can feel when his expression changes, roughly when Billy’s does. Now they’re both grinning like the madmen they are.

Large, soft hands slip up overtop his white shirt; grazing Billy’s waist, then stomach, then sweeping surely over his ribs, his pectorals. It feels fuckin’ great.

“You wouldn’t believe how easy he was to frame.”

Stu laughs, and it’s a rumble that buzzes against Billy’s back, like they’re some married couple stood standing straight up out of their domestic morning scene in bed.

Sidney hasn’t noticed any of this public shit, the acts of lustiness, of mutual pride in one another and themselves, respectively. Can’t believe he ever had to fake like he liked her. Thank the fading stars it’s over, it felt like forever that he had to keep up the act.

Stu caresses Billy, hands rubbing circles into his chest.

“Watch a few movies, take a few notes,” he tilts his chin down, nose gently ghosting against the base of Billy’s neck. He laughs again. “It was fun.”

As Sidney begins to lament the foolishness that she and her fallen friends had followed, Stu leans forwards — not much, because he doesn’t really have to lean far — and presses his lips into Billy’s skin.

He kisses Billy’s neck, and the boy almost falters. He almost turns his head to give Stu a better angle, so he can maneuver his mouth against the other’s. He doesn’t, but it takes a village to swallow back his urge.

He wasn’t quite sure what genre of a movie this made his life, but it was a movie he would fuckin’ watch.

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