What Follows Is So Good!!! The Internal Dialogue And The Build Up Is So Well Done I Love The Way You

“what follows” is so good!!! the internal dialogue and the build up is so well done i love the way you write joel!! please tell me you’re willing to write more parts

ahh thank you!! it always takes a moment to get in the groove of a new character's voice,, especially someone with such complex feelings

there will be a part 2 for sure,,

as for multiple other parts plural, i could see expanding it into a mini-series that's mainly just small moments that define the relationship between reader and joel, like just finding some domesticity during the end of the world, but i'm not sure yet

me reading through my drafts knowing what i’m gatekeeping

Gingerbread

 A/n small christmas drabble i talked about earlier,, just a cute little holiday snippet 

Summary: Billy and Stu don’t particularly care about Christmas, but they like being around you.  

----

His words are sinking in because it’s been long enough and you can’t just stare at Stu forever, but you can’t think of a way to react. After all, one of the most enthusiastic people you’ve ever met just casually admitted to not being super into the holidays. 

The holidays aren’t something people are or aren’t into. They’re a state of mind, a ritual, a time of year to put aside the pretext of angst in order to take joy in the simple things like decorating little cookie people and walking around to look at everyone’s lights.

“You’re ‘not into the holidays’?” Stu blinks, a pinch of humor playing into his expression at your disbelief. “What do you mean you’re ‘not into the holidays’?” 

“What I said, sweetheart,” he hums with a casualness that’s nearly suspicious because you’re still not convinced, “I’m not nine so I’m not super into it.” 

It. “What’s there not to be into?” You feel a bit like a kid with your insistence, but come on--it’s weird that Stu, who’s all energy and pro anything that gets him time off school is indifferent about the holiday season. 

Who’s indifferent about the holiday season? You get why some people might hate this time of year and you don’t expect everyone to be all deck the halls, tinsel coming out of every crevice of their being, or anything--but this much flatness? It’s weird. Especially from him. 

Stu’s eyebrows pull together. He’s clearly enjoying something about your shock. “It was fun when I was a kid, but you grow out of the holly jolly. The decorators come, Leslie pops in, and we get gifts. It’s nothing world changing.” 

The bit of insight only vaguely helps, shifting your total disbelief into something a little more downcast. His apathy seems to stem from his family dynamic at least a little. “Well, what about you?” 

Billy angles his head in your direction, leaning against the island of your family’s kitchen. His pause is cut short by Stu, “Oh, don’t even try with Billy. He’s the real Grinch here.” 

Your head snaps towards Billy. “You hate Christmas?” 

“Hate’s a strong word,” Billy answers, his flatness ruined by the slight amusement at your total shock. When you don’t ease, Billy shrugs, eyes dropping to focus on the granite countertop instead of your face, “Christmas was my mom’s thing.” 

You have to bite your tongue to keep from asking if you heard correctly. Billy mentioning his mom in any capacity is shocking enough, but hearing him talk about her so casually and with such blankness is something else entirely.

“My dad and I just aren’t that into it.” 

Nodding once, you’re not sure there’s a good way to continue. “So no baking cookies? Got it.”

Stu leans forward, nudging you with his elbow. “I didn’t say that, princess, I’ll play house with you.”

It takes a second of reflection, but you guess you can see how Stu found a way to weasel in that angle. You weren’t thinking of it when you brought up the cookie thing, but you should have expected it. Stu has a talent for reading between lines in a way that makes it easy to translate subtext into anything he wants it to be. You don’t think you get why he’d want to perceive it that way, but decide that a dip into psychoanalysis will derail the afternoon.

It’s not too weird, you guess, at least not too weird for Stu. His parents aren’t around much so all those little things need to be found in friendship. It’s the defense you use for a lot of Stu’s tiny comments and actions. It’s a fair excuse, and not the worst way his potential parental issues come out, and--

Okay. This is the exact psychological deep dive you didn’t want to take. If you think too hard on it, you feel bad about it. What kind of friend needs to over observe and read into everything like that? 

“Yeah?” You tap your nails along the granite, “Willing to wear an apron and everything?” 

Stu tilts his head, leaning forward and lifting his hand to your cheek. He pinches the skin of your cheek too quickly for you to protest. “You’re the one with the legs for it.” 

It’s dumb enough that you should be able to think of some kind of retort, but the way he says it, voice all low and eyes too focused, derails your train of thought entirely. “And you’re the one with the legs that can reach the top shelf where the flour is.” 

----

“I’m doing it right.” It’s little more than a huff and it’s quickly followed by a full, unashamed pout. “You just like being bossy.” 

Glaring at Stu as he squishes the dough between his fingers instead of fully flattening it, you cross your arms across your chest. It’s a bad idea, because flour is coating both of your hands and more powder smudges against your shirt. You’re surprised that you didn’t think to expect such a mess.  “Do not.”

“The power trip’s adorable.” 

“And how cute will you find it when I kick your ass?” 

He does the most offensive thing possible. He grins, full teeth and not even the tiniest bit menaced. “Yeah? You’re gonna kick my ass?” 

His reply is equal parts teasing and something you’ve never been able to name but have always known not to push too far. Winding Stu up is fun until it’s not and the line shifts with little warning. “Maybe,” it feels more like a retreat than you’d like. 

“I wouldn’t try her,” Billy’s voice comes out half disinterested as he continues to mostly do as told, evening out the dough Stu un-smoothed. “She can be mean.” 

You fight a smile, “Not mean--fair.” 

Billy pauses in a consideration so deliberate it almost feels like he’s making fun of you in a lighthearted way. “Tough.” 

Nodding once, you move to press your palm into the dough. “I have to be to keep two specific people I can never shake in line.” 

“Two people you can’t shake.” Billy’s thumb presses into the side of the dough stiffly, flattening the dough too thinly. “Sounds like you have some stalkers.” 

You move your hand to adjust the distribution of the dough, your fingers brushing against the side of Billy’s hand. “Nah,” you hum casually, “They’re nice in their own weird way.”

Billy turns his hand, skin settling against yours in a way that’d feel intentional if it wasn’t for the way he dutifully returned to evening the dough. “Weird?” It’s said softly enough, a touch of lightheartedness etched into the word. 

You’re about to make some joke about how weird is a total understatement when you’re yanked back with no warning. Your body has barely moved a full step, but the sudden, firm grip on your waist and left forearm forces you to bite your tongue to avoid yelping. Flour puffs into a cloud that gets all over you and up your nose.

“Stu!” 

He laughs, not letting go. “What happened to keeping us in check?” 

The jab makes you feel like you could kill him in order to prove a point. You squirm aimlessly, too offended to manage anything else. Stu’s relentless in his hold as you twist until you’re facing him. His expression leaves something in your stomach on edge. It’s not genuine panic or comfortability either. You can’t decide whether that makes you want to move or stay in place.

Stu angles his head downwards and you slowly raise a hand. He doesn’t question it until it’s too late and you’re opening your palm in order to let out a quick, sharp breath. Flour strikes Stu in a way that seems to genuinely catch him by surprise. It’s enough to make you laugh until his stillness sinks in. His hold on you feels firmer now and you’re not sure if the change is new or if you had been too distracted to notice before. Your lower back presses into the kitchen counter as you instinctually shift back. 

The bubbling of your internal awkwardness combines uneasily with the humor of earlier. It sits and builds with no where to go until you blurt out, “You in check yet?”

He cocks his head to the side. “Don’t get a big head, babydoll.” 

You’re not sure you get the framing of his words and their uncharacteristically stiff undertone. Before you can dwell, Billy sighs. “You two are little kids.” 

Any hint of edge that had just started building up vanishes as Stu turns his head. “Moody.” 

“Yeah,” you echo, feeling like your proving Billy’s point, “We should dump flour on Billy.” 

“An entire bag,” Stu angles his head to face you again, slowly releasing you, “We could wait for him to go to the bathroom and ambush him.” 

“You hide around the corner and I’ll hide behind the couch. No escape.”

Billy rolls his eyes. “You’re conspiring in front of me.” 

“Maybe I’m just trying to lure you into a false sense of security and I’m actually planning something a lot worse.” 

His eyebrows draw together, a desperate attempt at annoyance. “You wouldn’t make a good bad guy.” 

You let out a sound of mock offense. “You have no idea what I’m capable of plotting. I could be a total evil mastermind.” 

With a loud snort, Stu brings attention back to him. “You’re better off sticking to the cookies.” Before you can protest, Stu challenges your irritated expression with a question, “Okay--slasher movie, how do you take out your first victim?”

You’d point out that you weren’t trying to prove you’d be a fantastic killer in a scary movie, but they’d take that as giving up. Especially since you should have known that one of them would go there eventually. “Those things are unrealistic because half the time not getting caught isn’t a priority.” The answer feels a little bit like a cop out, and so you take a second to actually think it through, “But, I guess, off the top of my head I’d take out the first victim way before the others to make the crimes seem disconnected.” 

Billy asks, “Then what?” 

Ugh. You don’t love being put on the spot and this could easily turn into a sore subject with how seriously they take their scary movies. You’re not in the mood to be made into a joke as they pick apart your murder plan without taking into consideration that they gave you no notice. “I don’t know--take out the second victim alone to allow suspense to build and then attack the last of them all at once at some place I’m supposed to be at and then injure myself to make it easier to frame someone close enough to the victims to already have the police’s eye on them.” 

“Boring,” Stu exhales, dragging out the two syllables, “You left out the good, bloody details. Think you’d look cute all stabby--” 

“You want to see me stab happy? Because I guarantee you won’t like the outcome.” 

“Ouch,” Stu drops his head onto your shoulder, feigning a pain to rival an actual wound, “I’d let you live if I was a killer.” Not breaking at what’s clearly a compliment, you cup some more flour into your hand before blowing it into his face again. “You’re mean.” The whine is followed by him burring his head into his shoulder as he pretends to cry, affectively forcing the flour all over your shirt. 

Billy leans forward, grabbing a cloth rag from the other side of the counter before dropping it in front of you. “Clean up before you get it on me.” He catches the look behind your eye before you even realize what you’re doing. “Don’t.” 

His warning isn’t serious to constitute a threat or ruin the mood, but you’re not in the mood to make this painful. He’s already precarious enough when it comes to Christmas as is. “You’re no fun.”

----

Baking cookies has never taken you this long in your life. You’re sure that you were a better cookie assistant when you were a toddler than Billy and Stu were today, but you don’t mind. 

You had to take a quick shower while the cookies were in the oven because there was no other way to get all of that flour off. Stu did the same once you got out of the bathroom. Though, according to Stu and his never ending jokes and little comments, the truly practical thing would have been to shower together.

But now you’re dry and clean and Stu finally put on the shirt you stuck in the wash back on, you’re all left with a tiny army of gingerbread men. Yours are decorated a little cliche, gum drop buttons and crooked frosting smiles. Stu took creative liberties in the making of his thanks to help from the red food coloring he found in the back of the kitchen cabinet. Billy’s was surprisingly the neatest but was only decorated as an average guy in order to be a victim to Stu’s axe wielding gingerbread man. 

You rolled your eyes, but the amount of background and voices that went into the production of the mini massacre that only spared your cookies was funny.

"So, sugarplum.” The nickname forces your nose to wrinkle and you fight a laugh the same way a parent who doesn’t want to encourage bad behavior in a toddler would. That much affirmation could lead to sugarplum joining the already lengthy lineup of pet names Stu rotates through on a regular basis. “What’s your heart’s Christmas wish?” 

Okay--you’re not made of stone. A laugh that’s a little too loud slips out. “You don’t need to be that cheesy, all I did was get you to bake cookies.”

Stu forces out a mock gasp, eyes flitting towards Billy. “Can you believe her?” 

“I can’t believe you used ‘sugarplum’ and ‘Christmas wish’ in the same sentence.” Billy lifts his head up from the couch long enough for you to catch his slight smile. You laugh again, a little more comfortably. 

“Yeah, yeah, gang up on me,” Stu says this like he has never been this tired or this victimized in his life. He moves to sit on the couch, taking a second to comfortably adjust before patting his thigh. “If I get one of those hats will you sit on my lap and tell me what you want?” 

You roll your eyes, fighting against the burning sensation in your face. “Yeah,” flopping onto the couch at what you consider a safe distance, you continue, “And then if I’m lucky you’ll put me on the nice list.” 

“There’s an easy way to g--” He’s cut off by a pillow hitting the edge of his chin before smacking against his chest and landing on his lap. Stu gasps with an over the top level of offense. “What? I was going to say all you had to do was get me another cookie from the kitchen.” 

It’s blatant bullshit. “Mhm,” you cross your arms, settling on your spot, “I’m sure.” 

“Cross my heart.” He makes a point of tracing the ‘X’ motion over his chest. “I’m easily pleased.” 

Billy gently kicks his foot against Stu’s. “Since when?” 

“Since always.” Stu sits up, turning his full attention back to you. “But seriously, princess, what do you want for Christmas?” 

The question makes you feel awkward despite it’s casualness. “Um...” Every time people ask it, your mind instantly wipes and you can’t think of anything you’ve ever desired or needed. Besides, gift buying is inherently awkward when it’s talked about. “Nothing really, as of right now, I guess.” 

Stu practically whines like your response is a seriously, deeply personal issue. “Don’t pretend, it just makes Christmas shopping harder.” 

“You don’t have to get me anything.” 

“Like I’m not getting my best girl anything.” 

Sitting up a little further, you’re not sure what you to say to that. Sometimes Stu’s joking flirting is a little hard to laugh about when it’s that blatant. “You guys should help me put up some lights in my room. Last year I almost broke the curtain rod so now I’m banned from doing it alone.” 

You stand before any further comment can be made, fully aware of how transparent and flimsy the transition feels, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You’d much rather be playing with colored lights as Stu gets too comfortable climbing up stepping stools and furniture than having whatever that conversation would have been. 

purpose was so good!! i love your writing ahh you write these characters so well 😭

ahh thank you love!

Hi, I’m sorry to bother you. I’m not sure if your still making them but if you end up making more of the Final Girl fic with Billy and Stu, could you please tag me in it. I was going to try asking in the comments of the post but I wouldn’t let me, no pressure or anything I just wanted to ask in case

thank you

Hi hon! never a bother to receive an ask,, i am for sure still writing final girl...part 8 is just taking way longer than expected but i'm getting there!

i'd be happy to add you to the taglist but since this is an anonymous message idk your username in order to tag you

the commenting thing is weird?? never heard of that on one of my posts, but it's probably just a glitch or something,, you can send another ask off of anon if you can't comment or you can message me to be added (or, if you see this and can comment on this post, i'll know your username!!) anything that lets me see your username and we'll be good!!

thank you for including me in this list of lovely work :))

recommendations

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