#Randy Bullet

[aomaoe]

sorry for the titties! there was a nopixel drag event during pride month and Randys look was incredible so i had to draw it

[alabaster-raven-illustrations]

Top-notch trio: Randy Bullet and Franny & Luci Francer

[professionallydeadinside]

I LOVE IT, FLAD MY INSANITY HELPED YOU TAKE A LITTLE BREAK <3

Anyway, Lemon seems like he'd be such a good older brother to Femgerine. He'd be protective for sure. Shovel talk for Tangerine? Scary. Shovel talk for Femgerine? Nerve raking. Terrifying. He knows Femgerine can handle herself. This Does Not Stop Him.

Anyway, new au running around in my brain of a Bullet Train x The Passenger au where Randy (or Rue) and Ladybug, due to their combined bad luck, get caught and kidnapped together and have to escape helping each other, and the very first thing out of both their mouths are "Not again... :("

-Kirk anon

I think Randy and Ladybug would be friends I think Ladybug would be real protective of Randy and Randy will follow any older guy if they look like they can beat him up wsdfghjhgfd

[aidenknow]

Oh! I wonder who the ninja is giving the letter to? 😏

[glsneeg-enthusiast]

Late to the No Showfall conversation but do you think... Do you think the kids know..... About the dad murder..........

[imrandymeeks]

That scene in Bullet Train where Brad Pitt offers Channing Tatum $200 bucks and he asks if it’s a sex thing. One, it gave me heavy Czech Hunter vibes. Two, he looked like he was ready to do so.

I mean, he was down for whomever. I forget, was it Aaron Taylor-Johnson whom he mistaked for a hookup as well? There were two instances when Channing Tatum was ready to blow a stranger in the bathroom. And I guess the briefcase with dildos and lingerie might have been his? I don't think it was explicitly stated, but it's my headcanon that was his briefcase.

Tatum's cameos tend to have this Czech Hunter, Broke Straight Boys kinda vibe tbh.

[aomaoe]

some nopixel characters i was practicing a painting style with

[randygrim]

I need sleep, but the code calls...

[random-racehorses]

Random Real Thoroughbred: RANDY'S BULLET

RANDY'S BULLET is a dark bay/brown gelding born in The United States in 1999. By SAINT BALLADO out of MAPLE LAKE. Link to their pedigreequery page: https://www.pedigreequery.com/randys+bullet

[professionallydeadinside]

I'm gnawing at the bars of my cage at the thought of femgerine and Rue meeting and Rue thinking for a moment that femgerine would be a bit mean to her, only to have femgerine immediately basically adopt her as her sister, and straight up introduces her to Lemon within 3 hours.

She takes her shopping for clothing that makes Rue feel comfy but also boosts her confidence. :)

Ladybug and Benson are indeed talking about how cute their gfs are in the background, btw.

-Kirk anon

TANGERINE IS STILL A LITTLE MEAN BUT THATS JUST HOW SHE IS WALKJHGFDFGH

[probablybadrpgideas]

I feel like this is the right place to share the story of Post Apocalyptic Macho Man Randy Savage, the one time where my bad idea was telling a player "Hey, that might be a bad idea for this campaign"

Maybe 10 years ago I dusted off d20 modern for a Fallout-inspired post apocalyptic two-shot, a lot of what I'd DMed to that point was your typical D&D and I wanted to start trying different settings. I'd imagined this to be a pretty gun-heavy few games, so when my buddy decided that he wanted to make a grappler, I told him that I didn't think that was a great idea. My buddy took that shit personally.

Now, I was used to silliness at my table. I encouraged it, in fact! This campaign also had characters based on Squidward, Shrek and the Sanik meme (to anyone that knows Fallout lore, imagine Sonic hooked on Jet), so when my friend came to me with Macho Man Randy Savage I tutted a bit, but didn't bat an eye. What I hadn't realized was that my friend had spent the three days in between our conversation and the actual game building the perfect character to make me eat my words. The Post Apocalyptic Macho Man could grapple, he could evade and he could talk his ass off and that's it, but with these three ingredients- plus the bounty of the Dice Gods- this character derailed everything I'd had planned.

Band of raiders that have a caravan held up? Suplexed into each other before they could even get their guns. Super mutant? Nothing that can't be solved by suplexing a propane tank into the mutant (plus a well timed shot from Sanik). Mirelurk? More-a graps! Wave of bullets flying towards him? That's okay, just do the trademark Randy Savage tippy-toe walk to the nearest cover, then wait for the earliest opportunity to throw cocaine in their eyes and suplex the son of a bitch that thought they could snuff out the Madness (Oh, I forgot to mention that he spent literally all his starting money on cocaine, which he used in much the same way that Dale Gribble used sand). I really go out of my way to stop one character from becoming the capital-P Protagonist of the game, but my other players quickly figured out what was happening and they leaned into Macho Man's bullshit HARD, so they'd started setting up bad guys to get suplexed! By the end of the evening, my friend sat me down, flashed me the most shit-eating grin I'd ever seen to this day, and asked "So is the grappler still a bad idea?"

To tl;dr the rest, I furiously re-wrote the plot for the second night (again, two-shot) to make the bad guy Hulk Hogan, and the final encounter boiled down to a wrestling match between the two with the other players electing to "sit in the crowd and boo the Hulkster", before ultimately the two settled their differences and decided that the easiest way to rebuild society (and get decent blow again) was to reform the WWF and found a city called WrestleMania. Sanik was on board for the blow, Squidward was convinced to join them when he was told that the wrestlers would need entrance music and, so long as they kept away from his swamp, Shrek promised to help them find a suitable place to build Wrestlemania (though it totally ended up in his swamp). Anyway, that's how I learned to never tell a player that their idea for a grappler won't work, a grappler will work in any setting if you've got enough spite in your heart

­

[zepskies]

Echoes

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader 

Summary: Beau has another rough night, but you help him face a harder truth. 

AN: Yep, that’s right! I’m back with another little drabble for the Take Me Home series, set a while after S.I.N.G. This time, we’re in for some angst and comfort.

Word Count: 950 words

Tags/Warnings: Angst, PTSD, implied survivor’s guilt, hurt/comfort, fluff

Catch up on TMH: ⤵️

❤️ Take Me Home Masterlist

He heard it before he saw it.

That was the worst part of it really. He didn’t see it coming, even when he should have.

Randy hadn’t either.

Beau just saw the aftermath—a spray of scarlet that coated a stack of wooden crates carrying tens of thousands in cocaine. He saw the look of permanent shock frozen on Randy’s face as his body dropped to the concrete. It was a heavy sound. The sound of lifelessness.

The echoes of it rang in Beau’s ears, along with the single shot of a bullet tearing through his vest.

 Beau’s eyes opened on a sharp intake of breath.

They found darkness, and the familiar bedroom he shared with you. The only reason he could see it was because of the solitary window to his left, with slivers of moonlight filtering in between the blinds. He was lying on his back. His face, neck, arms, and bare chest were coated with a thin layer of sweat.

Turning his head to his right, he saw that you were still asleep. Your face was peaceful as you hugged your pillow. He was jealous.

Despite that, he resisted the urge to smooth a hand over your wild bedhead. He didn't want to chance waking you. Instead, he slowly got out of bed. He went into the bathroom to splash some cool water on his face. All the while, he ignored the shadows under his eyes, and the way his beard had gotten a bit scraggly. He’d trim in the morning.

He ventured into the living room and lit up the fireplace instead of turning any of the lights on. There he broke open the bottle of bourbon he kept above the fridge and grabbed a glass, and he sat in the middle of the couch, watching but not watching the fire.

His thoughts were like its flames, flickering from yellowed orange to sparking with red. Then back to yellow again.

Beau only perked up when he heard a floorboard creak. He saw you in the bedroom doorway, holding a fuzzy blanket around your shoulders. Your face was soft and concerned. He gave you a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes as you drew near.

You were warmer than him when you sat down and wrapped your blanket around his frame from behind. He clasped your arm against his chest, and you laid your head on his shoulder.

“The same dream?” you asked. Your voice was hardly above a whisper in the quiet; the fire crackling was almost louder.

Beau paused, but he nodded. His lips raised humorlessly.

“Told you I wasn’t gonna be easy to live with,” he said, though he held your hand. “‘M sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

You restrained a sigh and kissed his shoulder.

“Only a month in, but I think we’re doing well so far,” you said with a smile, even if it soon dipped. “You’ve been having nights like these even before you moved in.”

Again, he nodded and sipped at his glass.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he replied.

You shook your head. “It’s not your fault. But I’m going to say this again, because I love you. I really think you should try talking to someone.”

“Hey, I talk. Apparently I talk a bit too much, according to Jenny,” he managed to quip. He quirked a brow at you. “According to you too, I might add.”

You smiled in amusement, jostling him in your arms and disturbing the equilibrium of his bourbon.

“You know what I mean, Beau Arlen, and don’t pretend otherwise,” you warned him, but you paired it with a kiss to his scruffy cheek. “Therapy’s helped me a lot. I think it could do the same for you, with the right person… If you gave it a chance.”

Beau was quiet at that. Even though you understood his hesitation, it always hurt your heart to see him like this. You angled yourself toward him, so that he’d see your face and meet your eyes.

“You don’t have to do anything alone,” you said. They were words he’d told you too, more than once in the past year since you’d met him. “And I know I didn’t know Randy, but I doubt your friend would want you to suffer like this.”

Beau’s gaze fell away from yours then, drifting back to the fire. You brought him back by squeezing his free hand.

“Do you really think he’d want that for you?” you asked.

Beau couldn’t answer you in words; his throat was tight at the moment. His lips quirked, and he eventually nodded in understanding. He finished his glass before setting it down at the table. He could stop himself at the one for tonight, and that was a damn decent feat.

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to your forehead, a silent thanks and an acknowledgement all in one. Eventually, he was able to say it in words.

“Okay. I hear you,” he said.

You nodded with a sad smile. “Good.”

You curled yourself under his arm and sighed, resting at his side. Beau leaned you both back more comfortably on the couch. He allowed himself to let out a deep breath as well.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Mhmm,” you replied, even though your eyes were already closed. He knew then that you were halfway back to sleep. His lips tugged upward.

“I love you too, you know,” he added quietly.

“Mhmmmm,” you repeated, drawing it out more.

Beau’s smile became more genuine. Later he’d carry you back to bed, blanket and all. For now though, he made some small peace with his thoughts as he stared back into the fireplace.

This time, he actually felt its warmth.

AN: There we go, short and bittersweet. ❤️

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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Re: my PSA on tag list spring cleaning, I had to go through and do some updates on all my tag lists, including series tag lists like this one.

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[dopeasspancake]

Can't stop thinking about the concept of post-Scream (1996) and Billy and Stu's spirits being tied to Sidney for whatever reason. Maybe it's penance. Maybe it's unfinished business. Maybe they never figure it out. But they're just kind of stuck following her.

And maybe it takes her a while to notice. Maybe it takes Billy and Stu a while to become proficient enough at haunting for her to see/hear them and for them to be able to interact with objects or the living. At first they're not even sure they want Sid to know they're there.

But it eventually happens. And NONE of them are thrilled about the situation. For a long while. Maybe Stu finds it kind of funny, but Billy and Sid are PISSED. Billy & Stu aren't always around, though. They sometimes disappear for hours or even days at a time, but they always come back. They have no choice.

They follow Sidney to Windsor College, mock her choice in studies, and cannot stand her boyfriend Derek ("He's so corny it's painful, Sid.") And although Billy & Stu love finding out that they've inspired their own horror movie, they DON'T appreciate the new Ghostface(s) targeting Sidney. Sidney was THEIR final girl and she beat them fair and square. This New Guy should be more original, in their opinion.

When Sidney is distraught over Randy's untimely murder, Billy & Stu are actually a little bummed for her. And him. Stu was even rooting for them a bit. Thought Sid & Randy would have been cute together, but oh well.

And maybe Billy still hates Sidney, but he kind of respects her. He was once genuinely in love with her, before everything. Maybe Stu, who only ever got involved for funsies (and because he'd follow Billy to the ends of the earth) is even a little attached to her. So maybe they do their ghostly best to watch out for her (not that they'd actually tell her this, of course).

And when Billy eventually finds out one of the Ghostface killers was his mom, he spirals a bit (because why does she care NOW but not before he died? What right did she even have to be angry? SHE left HIM). And all Sidney can tell him is "Well, she's dead now."

After Sidney escapes death yet again following the Hollywood murders, she has to deal with several weeks of a falling out between her ghosts. Stu was there, he heard what Roman said about giving Billy pointers. About having a partner he could sell out if need be. And that had hurt more than any knife or smashed TV ever could.

(After a few weeks and with mediation from Sid, Billy finally confesses he never planned to sell Stu out. Only liked the idea of a partner, of not being alone, and Stu was the only person in the world Billy trusted with his life. And who Billy knew was unhinged enough to agree to murder for his friend. Getting this information out of Billy is like pulling teeth because not even death has cured his emotional constipation.)

And this just continues on through the franchise. And despite the fact that Sidney will never forgive Billy & Stu for what they did, she gets used to their presence. Even eventually begins to appreciate them, as fucked up as it is. They become a familiar constant in her life.

When they tease or mock her, Sid's not afraid to remind Stu that she dropped a TV on his face. Or that she put a bullet between Billy's eyes and would gladly do it again. But funny enough, she eventually says these things with very little malice. It's almost like a fun little inside joke. And to be fair, Stu can't think of a more ironic way for him to have died. He gets giggly about it sometimes.

They make fun of Sidney when she starts dating her eventual husband. They make fun of her even harder while she's pregnant because she's often tired, sore, and easily irritated. And while neither Billy nor Stu are big fans of kids, they have to admit Sid and Mark make some pretty cute ones.

Sidney is the one to break the news to Billy, "Congratulations, it's a girl" but 25 years late. She also has to break the news that his daughter is the latest target. And that Stu's nephew was already a victim. Both ghosts are left reeling over this information. Stu is weirdly disappointed to find out Billy cheated on Sid.

("Really, Billy? Didn't you plan an entire murder all because your dad cheated on your mom? And then you had the nerve...?!"

"Stu, while I appreciate you coming to my defense, I find it... fascinating that you're fine with murder but infidelity is where you draw the morality line."

"It's the hypocrisy, Sid! And you didn't deserve that."

"You literally both tried to murder me."

"... not the point, Sid."

If Billy wasn't so flabbergasted at the time, he might have felt more ashamed and embarrassed.)

When Sidney realizes what house Sam is at, Billy & Stu stay with her as she rushes headfirst into danger. All 3 of them are a little sick at setting foot back in that house. Billy & Stu are downright disgusted when they realize the killers are once again The Boyfriend and The Friend. ("Have some fucking originality, I am begging these kids.")

Billy later ends up genuinely thanking Sidney for helping save his daughter. They laugh over the irony of it all. Stu thinks about how Sam reminds him a lot of Sid, weirdly enough. But also of Billy, in some ways. He doesn't say these things out loud. But he does feel oddly protective of the young woman.

And I honestly have no idea how or when to end this concept, it could theoretically go on for decades... but I'm def obsessed with the idea obviously. So, if you actually read through all this (thank you and) feel free to expand upon the idea.

Maybe one day I'll get my shit together and write it out in detail myself. But probably not. BUT MAYBE.

UPDATE: after tons of positive feedback and although I am absolutely shitting myself with nerves, I have officially posted the first chapter of The Ghosts of Our Past for anyone interested.

[downtilts]

posting a ranson drabble i had bouncing around in my head recently. randy kisses benson in the diner while benson's apologizing for shooting him 🫢

“Fuck, Randy. I’m sorry.”

Benson is so close Randy can see the tears in his eyes, threatening to leak out, how his brow is creased in fear and worry. The pain in his shoulder is strong but Benson’s proximity outweighs it. And his apologies are so desperate as he stares at the wound he made, unable to fix anything. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Fuck.”

Randy believes him, one hundred percent, that he’s sorry about the bullet, about everything. And Randy finds it easy to forgive him. A tear betrays Benson, falls out onto his cheek and slides down his face. Randy lifts his arm, his good arm, brings his hand to Benson’s face, and wipes it away, returning the favor. In that moment he loves Benson, who has gone completely still and is looking at him like he is irreplaceable. He wants to tell Benson he’s alright, but he’s not really, and he wants to be honest. But there’s nothing honest he could say right now that would reassure Benson. Instead, he lifts himself up just enough to kiss Benson’s mouth.

Benson shudders, drops the gun, and one of the waitstaff, quick-thinking, scampers across the floor on hands and knees to retrieve it. Benson doesn’t notice. He kisses Randy back, no thought behind it, pushes his tongue in and both his hands find the back of Randy’s neck, grabbing so rough, too rough and sharp pain runs through Randy’s shoulder but he manages not to shout. If he shouts he knows Benson will pull back. They’re kissing in the middle of the diner with everyone watching. Benson’s hands are shaking, and he kisses Randy like he’s drunk, delirious and messy, moving from his lips to mouth at his jawline, and then on to his neck. Randy sighs and his eyes flutter open to see Miss Beard staring at them, completely bewildered. There’s a question in her eyes, something like, is this part of your plan to save us? He has no idea what he’s doing.

“Benson,” he murmurs as Benson continues sucking on his neck. Benson makes a small desperate sound and his other hand finds the waist of Randy’s pants, ready to proceed. “Benson. I did it. I called– I called the cops.”

Benson freezes and his lips part with Randy’s neck but his face stays buried in the crook of it.

“I called the cops,” Randy says.

Then Benson pulls back enough to look at him, eyes big, breath heavy, still coming down from the kissing, too many conflicting emotions playing across his face to name. He lets go of Randy, who almost falls to the floor, and steps back, settling into heartbreak. His empty hands twitch, and he glances at them, dazed, realizing he lost the gun. He doesn’t bother looking for it, just stares at Randy, who’s collected himself.

“It was me,” Randy says. “It was me.”

Everyone stares at Benson. It’s not clear what will happen now. If Benson still had the gun, he would probably shoot himself, or Randy, or Randy and then himself. Or he’d wave it at the cops so they would do it for him. But he’s just standing there, unarmed, looking frazzled and betrayed, mouth red from kissing Randy, and Randy doesn’t want anything bad to happen to him. 

“Benson,” Randy takes a step forward, unsure what he’s even going to ask him to do (to surrender, to kiss him again?). Benson looks so defeated. He takes a shaky breath and opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, one of the waitstaff gets up and strikes him across the back of his head with the butt of his gun, not unlike what he did to Sheppard’s face. He crumples to the ground and Randy cries out and runs forward to fall to his knees.

“Benson,” he says again, takes Benson’s head and cradles it in his lap, getting blood on his pants.

Other things happen after that. The cops come inside and get medical attention for Marsha. Miss Beard coaxes him away from Benson eventually, because even as he cries no and insists on riding in the ambulance with him, he’s still gushing blood from his bullet wound, and he ends up passing out and waking up in the hospital with his mother hovering over him.

He wants to see Benson immediately but they won’t let him. He insists the clothes he’s wearing are his own so they don’t want to take them as evidence.

“At least tell me whether he’s alive,” Randy begs the nurse when his mother is out of the room, and the nurse pats him on his good shoulder. 

“Alive and well,” she assures him, but the second part is doubtful.

When his mother comes back, she cries some more about how worried she was when she got the call, then stops, abruptly, staring at his neck. Randy’s blood runs hot; oh my god, he realizes, Benson left a mark.