#bill williamson you are stunning

[miguel-owhora]

not to be a freak but thinking about bill williamson's fat ass,,,,,, he's a big guy, he's fat n burly! wdym he doesn't have a fat ass? he obviously does!! hhhhhh he probably struggles to pull up his pants, having to wiggle himself into them and cursing underneath his breath whenever he has to pull them over his ass, and ykw, probably his groin, too. big guys have big dicks. bill williamson is a certified big dick n fat ass haver.

it's just unfortunate he's such a loser he hasn't been able to use it much aside from fucking into his own fist, having to bite down on his fist to muffle himself whenever he comes on his own fast. he's the type of guy to jerk off in the woods or in his tent, even when he's surrounded by others, embarrassingly getting off to the idea of getting caught - even though the actual reality of it terrifies him.

[samkerrworshipper]

asthma attacks | leah williamson x reader

based off a req that i got asking for soft boyfriend leah looking after a sick reader!

just a little drabble that’s just some sickness angst and heart warming fluff

Leah was out for the night. Out with Kim and Lia at some music event that they had decided to go to together. It wasn’t abnormal, Leah was out most weekends, with Alex or teammates. You weren’t a partier, you didn’t enjoy being out and about, you were a practised introvert whereas Leah was not. Normally you were fine with it, insisting to your fiance that she go out and enjoy herself, you enjoyed spending your Saturday night’s on your shared couch, digging into a tub of ice cream and watching whatever trashy reality show you could find.

Tonight though everything had felt off, there had been a sudden change in the weather in London, a sunny day now having a storm loom over the skies. It had put you off, but you hadn’t let it show enough for Leah to catch on, you wanted her to have a good night and you knew that if she was worrying about you she never would. So like normal, you helped her select her outfit, opting for a brown leather pair of slacks and a white v-neck shirt that matched up nicely with a black coat. She looked stunning and you made her aware of it, showering her with kisses and stray arms as she made her way out of the door, promising she’d be home by ten.

You’d started your night by ordering pizza, but you couldn’t shake the feeling in your chest, the slow tightening. It was something you’d never experienced and you shook it off as it just being anxiety. You got your blanket fort ready on the couch, prepared to sit in and watch the episodes of The Real Housewives and clicking play. You pressed pause on the show when you heard the sound of your delivery man at the door, leaping out of your blankets and walking towards your door. You cursed when you realised that your wallet wasn’t at the door, remembering that you had taken it upstairs earlier. You rushed towards your staircase, ignoring the feeling of tightness in your chest as you bounded up the stairs, ignoring the lack of oxygen you seemed to have once you made it to the top, ignoring it and rushing towards your bedroom. It took you hardly any time to track down your wallet, you fished out a series of bills, enough to pay for your food and tip the driver generously, you couldn’t help but feel the oxygen in your lungs, or the lack thereof. You ignored it. Rushing to the door in a haste so as to not leave your delivery man waiting any longer, there was this clench across your torso though that was so sudden and so unexpected. You shoved the money towards the man, quickly trading the pizza box with the cash so you could close the door.

You knew this feeling. In all honesty you hadn’t felt it in too long, a bit too long to send you into some false sense of security but now it was all coming into focus for you. You slid down onto the floor of your house, your lungs no longer being able to support you standing up. You dropped the pizza box to the side of you, your arms clutching at your chest, as you wheezed and struggled for air. You should have known when the storm warnings came, should have known to have your puffer on hand. You were royally fucked now, the all so familiar asthma attack beginning to take a toll on your body.

You reached into the pocket of your lounge pants, fumbling around with the buttons as your vision began to blur from the sheer lack of oxygen that was entering your body. You struggled with the buttons, clicking on the phone one and stumbling through your contacts until you managed to find your girlfriend.

You clicked on her name, praying that she would pick up. The only puffer’s that you had lay in your medicine cabinet and bedside table, for the odd panic attack that you would sometimes procure in your sleep, that often had you barreling into an asthma attack.

You listened carefully to the sound of ringing, cursing in your head when the sound of Leah’s voicemail began to play, her voice did wonders to soothe you but once it was over you couldn’t help but feel overwhelming dread. You scrolled frantically, your hands shaking as the searched for someone else, eventually locating Kim’s number and pressing on it, she was your last hope.

You listened dutifully to the sound of the phone ringing, listening as it slowly began to ring out and ust as you were losing hope the sound of music started to bleed through your speaker.

“Y/n? What’s up?”

You wheezed as you sucked in the oxygen to speak.

“A-Asthma attack, n-need Leah.”

You heard Kim swear under her breath, her deep Scottish accent being portrayed in her words. You could hear her yelling at Leah on the other side of the phone, clearly trying to get the attention of your girlfriend. It took some more yelling and bustling for Leah’s voice to finally meet your ears. You were exhausted, your breaths becoming even harder to take with every second.

“Baby, are you alright? Have you got a puffer?”

You gulped, again taking your time to suck in the oxygen so you could reiterate what was happening to Leah.

“N-No, s’ upstairs, c-can’t breathe.”

You heard Leah take a deep exhale on the other side of the phone, and then yell something out to one of her companions.

“Okay, okay, stay on the phone with me. I’m leaving now, I’ll be home soon, we’re only five minutes away. Just keep talking to me okay.”

You nodded at the phone, the realised that Leah couldn’t see you.

“F-forgot about the s-storm.”

It was true, even though you knew it was one of your triggers it had managed to completely slip your mind, you had been too focused on the obscenely sudden change of weather to think about how it could affect you.

“I know baby girl, it completely slipped my mind as well, just keep taking those deep breaths, blow the candles out remember. I’m going to be home soon, just keep blowing out the candles.”

You nodded into the phone, trying your very hardest to obey Leah’s wish and take the breaths that she had told you too. It wasn’t easy, but you tried your very hardest to allow the oxygen to reenter your body, only for it to be taken away by the tightening in your chest and the wheezes that left your lungs with every little breath you tried to take. You need your puffer, and soon, before you lacked so much oxygen that you passed out.

Leah stayed on the phone with you, murmuring reminders to breathe and other similar advice that was nice but didn’t do very much to calm the struggle that you were having. You made sure to murmur to her every once in a while, reminding the woman that you were still alive.

“Y/n/n, keep blowing the candles out, you're doing so well for me sweet girl, you’ve got this, just keep taking those deep breaths.”

Your head was clouding over with a haze, something you recognised as a symptom of your oxygen deprivation, first came the cloud, then a complete daze and then unconsciousness.

“L-leah, need you.”

Your words were breathy, your lungs struggling to scrap together much more than the half words.

“I know sweet, I’m almost there, just pulling into the driveway now, keep breathing for me.”

You could feel the fog that was plaguing your body begin to thicken and you thanked every god that Leah was close by, that tonight she had opted to keep it local instead of going elsewhere. You listened indepthly as you heard the sound of a car pulling in and fast footsteps making their way across the pavement of your driveway and towards the door.

In the flash of a moment the door was slung open, Leah locating you almost immediately on the floor and crouching down beside you.

“Kim, inhaler, bedside table.”

It was then that you spotted Kim and Lia running in behind her, the three of them about as flustered as flustered could be.

Leah pulled her jacket off, slinging the far to large coat over your nearly bare shoulders, the only thing covering your chest being one of your pyjama tank tops. Your body was shivering wildly, with the lack of everything beginning to truly affect your form.

“Hey, hey honey, look at me, keep blowing out the candles yeah? Take those deep breaths for me, Kim’s fetching your inhaler so just hang in for me.”

You nodded at Leah, trying your very hardest to absorb her words and put them into action.

“Lia, wet towel, now.”

Lia nodded, running off towards your kitchen whilst Leah stayed crouched beside you on the floor. It was seconds later that Kim came bounding down your staircase, a inhaler clutched in one of her hands. She threw it to Leah, who caught it with ease and very quickly brought it to your mouth, pressing down on the puffer as to allow you to take in some of the medicine that you so desperately needed. You ran the process a multitude of times, Leah insisted that you take as many puffs of the medication as you were allowed to. As soon as you were done you slumped against Leah, her body coming to rest beside you against the wall of your hallway, slinging her arm around you so she could bring you to her chest, letting you feel her deep breaths and try to copy them.

When Lia returned with the towel Leah pressed it against your head, letting you feel the contrast of the cold. You’d found over time that the cold tended to shock your body into normality, and that sometimes it would assist in helping an attack pass.

It was just a waiting game, waiting for the ventolin to force your lungs to untighten, forcing them to do the job that they were supposed to, that you so wished they would do naturally. Slowly the medication worked, slowly it started to take effect on your body, allowing you to float down from the haze that you’d been in.

“M’ sorry I wrecked your night.”

The other two women had sat themselves down on the wall opposite you two, the two of them sporting equally concerned faces.

“You did no such thing, I should have known that with the storm coming there was a chance you would be affected by it, never should have left your side.”

Leah leant down to your head, pressing a gentle kiss to your hairline that lasted for quite a few seconds.

“Ruined your night though.”

It was Kim’s deep Scottish accent that boomed through this time, being the only noise in the hallway beside the sound of your constricted breaths.

“You did not ruin anybody's night, we wanted you to call us, if you ever feel like that we’d want you to call us, you had a asthma attack, a completely human thing that you couldn’t have prevented. All is well as long as you are feeling fine.”

You nodded at Kim, grateful for the smile that the older woman, your captain gave you.

“I’ll be alright now, thanks to you.”

It was true, without the help of the women you would probably be dead, unable to do much more than collapse on the floor of your house and slowly choke on your own breaths.

“It’s no trouble at all, we’re always here to help if you need, we better get going now, keep an eye on this one Lee.”

Kim reached down to ruffle your hair, helping Lia up and the two of them saying their goodbyes before exiting your house.

Leah continued to hold you in her arms as your breaths evened out, slowly returning to normal as the medication began to fully work.

“M’ so sorry sweetheart, I should have known with the storm.”

You shushed Leah’s worries, a hand reaching up to her mouth to stop her from venting.

“Hey, I forgot as well, neither of us are at fault, it happens. Nothing would have stopped it from happening, it just happened to be that tonight you were out, but you were here, you got here and I’m fine, I’m going to be fine.”

Leah nodded at you, leaning down to press another set of kisses to your face, placing them all over your face and forehead before reaching down to peck your lips.

“Never leaving you again, you are going to be stuck at my side forever.”

You rolled your eyes at Leah’s words, knowing that her protective nature would take over for the next two weeks before it faded and she returned to her normal ways.

“I’m going to have to brush up on my dance moves then.”

Leah snorted, knowing that the day she got you out on the dance floor would be a monumental moment for sure.

“Nope, never leaving this house, going to keep you wrapped up in our bed forever, no more risks for you.”

You rolled your eyes at Leah once again, ignoring her frightfully overbearing boyfriend tendencies that seemed to come into play after every single time something happened to you.

“Sounds like a pretty good life to me.”

[allzelemonz]

Lieutenant: Bill Williamson X Male Reader

Pronouns: he/him, implied masculinity, Reader referred to as ‘man’, ‘sir’, and ‘boy’ Physical Sex: AMAB implied, mentions of shaving facial hair Rating: T/Violence, crime Warnings: Incredibly gay and closeted Bill, internalized homophobia, period typical homophobia, Reader was an officer, dishonorable discharges for being gay, pining, uniform ‘kink’, mentions of Reader participating the the relocation of Natives, military habits and norms Summary: For a job, Dutch has you and Bill dressed in your old uniforms. It brings out some old habits and new feelings.

The whole job feels ridiculous. But it was Dutch’s idea and Dutch is the boss and there’s only so many people that can pull it off and you stopped listening after you heard the word ‘uniform’ so you don’t remember the rest. Even if you had been listening, seeing yourself in the old clothes makes your stomach turn. Everything was taken so quickly, your whole life turned on its side just because you let yourself be vulnerable. And even after all these years the damn collar doesn’t sit the way it’s supposed to. All of it aside, freshly shaven and hair slicked with pomade, you look like the lieutenant you used to be. At least Dutch’s plan might actually work.

When you leave your tent and the dreadful mirror Molly lent you, you feel a bit better not having to look at yourself in the dreadful garments. Of course, you only get a moment’s peace before Sean sees you approaching the stolen coach and opens his mouth.

“Look at that!” He grins. “Big man a’ the army!”

“Cavalry.” You sigh. “Officers are always more specific. Uptight bastards.”

Sean chuckles. “Apologies, sir.”

“Shut up.”

Sean snickers to himself as he returns to looking over his rifle and you pass him to find Dutch. He’s speaking with Hosea, Arthur, and Bill, all of them in their own disguises. Bill is the only other in uniform, reminding you of a degenerate corporal you had to have a few others hold down and shave before a visit from your colonel. Captain's orders of course, everything the captain said was everything you did back then.

“Ah, there’s our officer.” Hosea says, a fondness in his tone that makes you not snap at the comment.

Dutch laughs in that annoying way he does when things are working out for him, Arthur simply looks a little stunned at your clean cut appearance. Bill, however, has a red face and eyes that wander over your figure. Not that you notice, Dutch has already started talking to you like a father seeing his son in uniform for the first time. This gives Bill the freedom to look at you like he wants to. You stand like an officer, like those men that he usually hates because they’re so full of themselves, but it works for you. His eyes find the rank insignia of a first lieutenant, telling him you did something to get promoted or gain brevet at some point. Knowing you, it’s not so surprising.

“Now.” Dutch puts a hand on Bill’s shoulder and snaps him out of his ogling. “What do you think of our enlisted man here?”

Bill isn’t entirely sure why he straightens his posture under your gaze. He’s not really a soldier anymore and you’re not really an officer. But you feel like one. The way your eyes trail over his uniform, his beard, everything about him with some kind of scrutiny, it makes him feel like his sergeant is inspecting him again. And you feel that habit, the demeanor coming over you again and you have to swat it away because you hate that you want to point out every little flaw you find.

“He looks fine, Dutch.” You say. “He’ll pass.”

“Fantastic, boys.” Dutch laughs in triumph. “Excuse us.”

He pulls Arthur and Hosea along with him, all dressed as rich men. They’re supposed to be supporters that donate to the welfare of veterans but they don’t seem stuck up enough to pass in your opinion. You turn back to Bill and find him staring, but he looks away when you catch him.

“I thought you were infantry.” You say, noticing the yellow of cavalry on his uniform.

“I was…” Bill mutters. “Served in the cavalry for a while too, thought it'd look better if we, uh… matched.”

You smile. “Good call.”

There’s a moment of silence before Bill speaks again. “Didn’t know you was a lieutenant.”

You cringe a little at the recognition of your rank. “Yeah…”

“You get promoted er…uh…”

“Yeah, uh, first lieutenant.” You recall the promotion with resentment, not proud of the things you had to do to accomplish them. In retrospect, nothing the cavalry did was good.

“Impressive.”

Bill didn’t mean to say it out loud. He tried not to be around officers while he was a soldier but he had to respect them. He definitely respects you, uniform or not, but the way you look in one certainly isn’t helping some things he’s been trying to ignore about himself. You look like the kind of man that could have easily been the cause of his dishonorable discharge.

“Boys!” Dutch calls. “Time to go!”

You glance over Bill again and find yourself stepping closer to fix the most glaring of his uniform deficiencies. It’s nothing you haven’t done for a subordinate before, especially when you were a cadet. And it’s nothing Bill hasn’t experienced before from his superiors. It’s a very common act, wordlessly touching each other up, but Bill’s cheeks still turn red as your hands touch his chest and his neck in the process of fixing his uniform. Then you step back and he sees it, so he reaches out and fixes your collar. For once, it stays. Countless men have tried to correct the pesky thing, generals included, but Bill got it to sit perfectly on the first try and his hand still hasn’t moved. His fingers are so lightly touching your skin and it makes sparks shoot through you, but he pulls away when you look at him.

Neither one of you speaks to the other for most of the job, only opening your mouths when your false roles dictate it. Bill plays lackey, serving the rich men and the officers, so you find yourself giving him orders. Simple things, but you put on that command voice you used to use so no one doubts you. Bill plays his role well enough, though the officers you encounter call him a ruffian and a buffoon. You have to remind yourself that they’re about to be robbed blind to keep yourself from starting a fight.

“Hello, lieutenant.”

You turn at the sound of your rank and are met with someone familiar. A man you spent time as a cadet with and served alongside. No one special, but someone you used to trust with your life.

You glance down from his face to find a captain’s rank. “Captain? You made captain?”

He laughs. “A few years ago, I’m surprised you haven’t yet.”

“I’ve been told I will soon.” You smile, trying to keep suspicion away, Dutch should be done any time now.

“Good!” He grins. “Anyway, how have you been? I haven’t seen you since that relocation our platoons did together.”

Of course, forcing people off their land. The ‘glory’ days of your career.

“I’ve been fine, just keeping things in order.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Like that?”

You follow his gesture to where Bill stands among a group of enlisted men. He does stand out despite what seems like his best efforts.

“Williamson?” You ask. “What about him?”

“Doesn’t seem like the kind of soldier you’d bring up.” He laughs.

You find your hand forming a fist and you have to force its uncurling. He’s insulting both you and Bill with a single comment. “What do you mean?”

He chuckles. “I don’t mean to be rude, lieutenant, but if he were one of mine I’d have discharged him by now.”

“He’s a good man.” You say a little faster than you mean to. “A good soldier.”

“Don’t go falling into those nasty habits again, lieutenant.”

That nearly does it. You’re halfway to the point of knocking the man on his ass when Arthur slides into the conversation with a hand on your shoulder.

“Excuse me, sir.” He says with a well trained smile. “I need ta borrow the lieutenant for a moment.”

The captain bows his head. “Of course. We’ll talk later.”

You follow Arthur out of the crowd, Bill joining you as you leave the event. Hosea and Dutch wait by the stage with Sean half asleep while holding the reins.

“How’d ya get on?” Dutch asks.

“He was about ta punch a feller.” Arthur laughs.

“I got the information.” You scoff. “Can we go now?”

“What made you want to hit a man?” Hosea asks as he nudges Sean awake.

You sigh as you shrug off the uncomfortable uniform coat. “Officers are bastards, that’s all.”

“Course they are.” Bill mutters, crumbling his own coat in his hands.

“You boys did good.” Dutch reassures. “And it’ll be a long time before we play soldier again.”

And it is a long time before Dutch asks you to put on the uniform for a con again. This time it’s much simpler, just you and him going to some officer’s party under the ruse of a officer and his proud father while you pickpocket and leave with a nice stagecoach to fence. The night is full of officers telling stories about killing ‘savages’ and their mothers calling every young man they see handsome and their fathers boasting about how proud they are. It brings up too many memories and feelings of wanting to knock smug looks off of people’s faces. But when it’s over you have a quiet ride home as Dutch and you separate to not cause suspicion.

Bill is on watch when you return and you recall him in his own uniform with much more fondness than you should. He doesn’t call out to ask who’s there, he just stares as you pass. You hitch your horse with the others and take a few minutes to give them attention, but the sound of your name makes you turn around.

With his rifle slung over his shoulder, Bill stands awkwardly in front of you. “The-The job go good?”

You nod, suddenly feeling the tightness of your collar on your neck. You unbutton it and catch the rising heat on Bill’s face as you do. “Alright, Bill?”

He nods quickly. “‘m fine.” His eyes dart from your unbuttoned collar to your face. “You, uh, ya wanna have a drink?”

It’s your turn to feel heat. You clear your throat and shuffle a bit on your feet. “I-I can’t, I gotta do something for Dutch.”

No you don’t, you’re in denial and very much not ready to be feeling what you’re feeling about the man in front of you. So is Bill, but he really can’t look at you in that uniform with any level of control.

“Oh…”

The disappointment is apparent in his voice and it shakes you a little. “Maybe… maybe it could wait for a, uh, a few minutes.”

Bill isn’t entirely sure where his confidence comes from. He’s never good at these things but he manages enough in the moment to step closer to you and ball his fist in your uniform to press his lips to yours. It lasts just a second before his senses come back and he pulls away, but a second is more than enough time for you to realize denying what you want from Bill is stupid.

“I-I’m sorry, I-” He stumbles like you’re a real officer and he’s reliving his own discharge.

You cut Bill off and reconnect your lips, pulling him closer with your hands cupping his face. The rifle on his shoulder slides off before his hands find your waist and he returns the kiss with much more enthusiasm this time. You can feel when his hands move and run over each button until he lays his palms flat against your chest. It makes your heart beat fast and your breath stall, causing you to pull away a bit. Bill freezes, his eyes looking over your face to find what he did wrong, but he’s distracted by your thumb as it strokes his cheek.

“You like the uniform, I take it?” You whisper.

Bill nods, not quite capable of words when your eyes sparkle back at him in the moonlight.

“I hate it.” You mutter, pressing a light kiss to his lips. “It’s not all you like is it?”

“No!” Bill says before realizing he should be quiet. “No, I-I like plenty about ya.” His hands slide back down to your waist and squeeze unconsciously. “Ya just… ya look so…”

His words catch in his throat as he meets your eyes again and all he can do is kiss you. You smile into it and let yourself relax, knowing that it’s not just some latent soldier’s fantasy to fraternize with an officer. Even you have to admit, men always look good in the stupid uniforms. Especially Bill, but he always looks nice. It’s not like you can be punished for feeling this way now, so the thoughts fly through your mind freely and you don’t hold back when Bill pulls you a little closer.

[zooterchet]

Snitching on the CIA (Top Secret Plans)

My associate and benefactor of employ, Mark Salib, was once the African-German butler, to Benjamin Franklin.

Upon learning that the butler, had devised the entire corrections system as German-run, overseas, Franklin was enraged, and declared "Treason", and deported him.

But the Salibs, made it to Egypt, to plot their revenge.

Returning back a century later, as Egyptian-Arab, Coptic Evangelist, they took over the country as the first Evangelist President, Warren G. Harding; the munitions industry, through their new program, "credit scores"; the method of deporting any inmate, to the government of their choice, through "bearer bonds"; Madison's old rule of the vodka and tobacco trade as a required export in exclusive nature of any Presidential family having held office, however as a criminal caper to free an inmate.

When the Salib family, the branch of the Hardings in question, saw the need in the 1980s to counter Saddam Hussein, they went hard to work developing the Apache attack helicopter.

It was so successful, that Bill Clinton, gave them a stunning mansion, built from the ground up, in Hopkinton, Massachusetts.

I presently work Mark's ATF section, John Warren Temple of Egyptian Migrancy; an immigration attorney, about your new home in prison overseas, should you hire and sign, of your own petty labor and interview, of course.

It's a credit score boon, as you'd imagine.

I was born to fly the Comanche; with a VX rocket, normally a computerized stealth helicopter.

But you remember in Goldeneye N64, that the helicopter was stolen, by the scheming "Janus Syndicate", that despicable Jenna Williamson, of the Mossad, and that little man, "Valentin Zhukov", our good friend Joshua Moen.

That's why the helicopter exploded, after dropping the canister on the Presidential Palace of choice.

[doamarierose-honoka]

Free Comic Book Day is rapidly approaching, marking a time of year when comic book fans come out in droves to support their local shops.

There’s been some form of a Free Comic Book Day every year since 2002, with comic shops and comic pros coming together to make it an event that includes signings, contests, and more.

A lot of that success is thanks to the involvement of the publishers, who offer up some of their biggest titles. FCBD is now where the biggest storylines and newest titles are teased first, meaning this is the go-to event if you’re looking forward to 2024’s biggest stories.

What is Free Comic Book Day?

Always held the first Saturday in May, Free Comic Book Day is an annual event where retailers offer up free comics as promotional items. The event tends to be fairly massive, even more so than events like Batman Day.

The first Free Comic Book Day took place in 2002, organized by comic shop owner Joe Field and Image Comics co-founder Jim Valentino. The original event was scheduled to coincide with the release of Spider-Man as a means of capitalizing on the positive interest in comics being generated by a new wave of successful comic book movies, like X-Men and Blade.

Ultimate Spider-Man takes center stage for Marvel’s FCBD 2024 offerings.

The original release date stuck as a tradition, with every FCBD taking place the first Saturday in May (the lone exception being 2004’s event, which was shuffled to July to the release of Spider-Man 2).

The comics themselves are free, but retailers do still pay for them, albeit at a heavily discounted rate, with publishers covering the production cost of the comics. As such, many fans consider it good etiquette to support your local store by buying a few comics while you’re there for the freebies.

Availability of the comics can vary based on location. To find out where your local store is, you can check out at Comic Shop Locator.

Every available Free Comic Book Day 2024 title

Free Comic Book Day takes place May 4, 2024. Here’s every comic that will be offered through Diamond Distributors for FCBD 2024.

Every FCBD 2024 Gold Title

Blood Hunt/X-Men #1

(W) Jed MacKay, Gail Simone (A) Sara Pichelli, David Marquez (CA) Kael Ngu

Time once again for a shot of all-new Marvel goodness, absolutely free! First, witness the overture to this summer’s major crossover event starring the Avengers – Blood Hunt! And then get a glimpse of the future of mutantkind as Jubilee learns that you cannot go home again!

Exclusive Original Material

Rating: Teen

The New Adventures of Encanto/Turning Red #1

(W) Bill Presing, Sloane Leong, Amparo Ortiz (A) Andrea Greppi, Sergio Algozzino

A double-sided preview featuring new stories that continue the adventures of Encanto and Turning Red. In Encanto: Tall Tales, Mirabel, Camilo, and Antonio battle a bully by spinning a yarn about an even bigger baddie…with magical results! Meanwhile, in Turning Red: Panda Problems, Meilin Lee struggles with containing her inner furry self. Her friends and family are her only hope to battle these hairy emotions!

Preview Material

Rating: All-Ages

DC FCBD Special Edition

It’s an exciting new project from DC, but it’s being kept under lock and key for the time being. Stay tuned for more details in the coming months!

Energon Universe Special

(W) Robert Kirkman, Daniel Warren Johnson, Joshua Williamson (A) Lorenzo De Felici, Various (A/CA) Ryan Ottley

Discover three all new stories from the Energon Universe, with stunning revelations for the worlds of Transformers, G.I. Joe and Void Rivals from the biggest names in comics.

A perfect jumping on point for new readers and a can’t miss for long-term fans.

Hellboy/Stranger Things

(W) Mike Mignola, Derek Fridolfs (A) Mark Laszlo, Jonathan Case (CA) Mike Mignola

Um . . . stories from Mike Mignola’s Hellboy, AND Stranger Things? Yes, please! In Hellboy, “The Fortune Teller,” Hellboy consults a crystal ball-reader for help solving a murder, but things go off the rails when she gets distracted reading Hellboy’s own future. Then, in Stranger Things, “Deliver Me From Evil,” Argyle and Jonathan swap fantastical and scary tales as they make one last pizza delivery for the night.

Original Exclusive Material

Rating: Teen

Jonny Quest

The fantastic scifi-adventure exploits of 11-year-old Jonny Quest as he travels to exotic locales around the world with; his scientist father Dr. Benton Quest, his adoptive brother Hadji, his bodyguard Race Bannon, and his faithful dog Bandit. Join the Quest team in tackling new government assignments, solving mysteries and apprehending sophisticated villains for the betterment of mankind.

Pokemon Adventures: Omega Ruby & Alpha Sapphire/Splattoon

Awesome Pokémon adventures inspired by the best-selling Pokémon Omega Ruby & Alpha Sapphire video games! Sapphire and Emerald need Ruby’s help to stop a crisis of planetary proportions-a meteor hurtling toward their home! Can three Hoenn Pokédex holders stop a crisis of epic magnitude?

Paired with all-new adventures featuring the beloved characters from the hit Nintendo Splatoon video games! Goggles is back with new friends and new battles! Goggles travels to the Splatlands, meets an inkling named Braid, and embarks on a fresh series of adventures set in the world of Splatoon!

Preview Material

Rating: All-Ages

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

It’s been four decades since Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird released the very first issue of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in May 1984. Join us as we kick off a brand-new era for the Heroes in a Half Shell with two all-new short stories and a preview of what’s next in the IDW comics.First, there is a new masked vigilante in New York, looking to carry on the tradition set by the Turtles themselves. Get a special prelude of the new miniseries, straight from the mind of Juni Ba (Harley Quinn: Black + White + Redder; Monkey Meat).

Second, a blast from the past! A brand-new tale told in a classic IDW style, featuring fan-favorite talent Paul Allor (Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles vs. Street Fighter) and Andy Kuhn.

Finally, there will be an exclusive preview of what’s next for TMNT!

Exclusive Original Material

Rating: All-Ages

The Worlds of James Tynion IV

(W) James Tynion Iv (A) Eryk Donovan, Michael Dialynas, Werther Dell’Edera

On the eve of the 5-year anniversary of Something is Killing the Children and the 10-year anniversary of The Woods and Memetic, celebrate James Tynion IV’s iconic run of horror classics at BOOM! Studios in this exclusive FCBD special.

Featuring a curated line-up of some of his most terrifying and thought-

provoking stories, alongside exciting teases of what’s to come and an exclusive collectible cover, this is one issue that fans will not want to miss.

Reprint Material

Rating: Teen

Ultimate Universe Spider-Man #1

(W) Zeb Wells, Deniz Camp (A) Juan Frigeri (A/CA) Ryan Stegman

Just weeks ahead of Amazing Spider-Man #50, get the first taste of the return of the Goblin! Plus, prepare for the next evolutionary step of the Ultimate Universe as a powerful new hero debuts! But it doesn’t end there! Oh no, there are some surprises up our sleeve on this one!

Exclusive Original Material

Rating: Teen

Unicorn Crush

(W) Dana Simpson (A) Dana Simpson

Love and magic are in the air in this enchanting collection of Phoebe and Her Unicorn comic strips featuring Phoebe and her one-of-a-kind unicorn friend, Marigold Heavenly Nostrils. Young readers will enjoy the caring and comedic adventures of this colorful duo as they rediscover the magic in themselves and in each other. Whether you’re a devoted fan or new to the spellbinding world of Phoebe and Marigold, Unicorn Crush will leave you with a smile on your face and a warm, sparkly feeling in your heart.

Preview Material

Rating: All-Ages

Witches of Brooklyn

(W) Sophie Escabasse (A/CA) Sophie Escabasse

The smash-hit Witches of Brooklyn series returns! Join Effie and friends on a one-of-a-kind, magical adventure in this new story from Sophie Escabasse. Featuring fun activities, new and existing fans can jump right into this exclusive comic!

Exclusive Original Material

Rating: All-Ages

[a-libra-writes]

The Gang Reacts to You Dressing Fancy for a Job

“Is it okay to ask for the RDR2 gang (or just Javier if it’s too much!) seeing their crush all prettied and dressed up for a job (like the riverboat or Bronte’s garden party)? Would they work up the courage to ask them out? your writing sustains me”

YAAALLLLL THIS LONG AS FUCK BC THIS! IS! MY! RASPBERRY! JAM!

In this imagine, you’ll be impressing: Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Dutch van Der Linde, Hosea Matthews, Sadie Adler, Micah Bell, Charles Smith, Bill Williamson, Javier Escuella, Sean MacGuire, Lenny Summers, Kieran Duffy, Tilly Jackson, Mary-Beth Gaskill, Karen Jones, Flaco Hernandez

ARTHUR MORGAN

Oh no. When you were volunteered for the job, he had a feeling you’d look charming in one of those big hooped gowns, but … this is like his heart getting hit by a train. The feelings are a little overwhelming, so while the girls add their finishing touches, Arthur tries to stand to the side and not stare. He wants to compliment you, because you look absolutely stunning, but words are completely failing him. Arthur manages to get a compliment out, but you’re totally occupied with how much you love or hate this get-up. Arthur doesn’t even care about what he was forced to wear; he could be in a paper sack and he wouldn’t notice. During the party, he’s distracted by how you seem to float around the room, easily joking with the guests as though you were one of them. Hosea has to knock sense into Arthur more than once, but how can he pay attention when there’s a literal angel in front of him?

When the gunfight breaks out, Arthur is at your side right away, pulling you into his protective embrace and trying to steer you out of the house. It doesn’t matter if you’re a good shot or not, that dress and corset are cumbersome as hell and he’s gonna stubbornly send you home. Arthur wants to be the one taking you back, but he has to stay and fight. He hands you off to Sean, warning him to be careful and get you back to camp in one piece. His tone is actually pretty scary when he says this. Arthur is beyond relieved when he finally gets back. You’re out of the dress, but you’re clearly safe and comfortable, not a scratch on you. He doesn’t care about his own injuries, but he’s pleased when you fuss over them.

JOHN  MARSTON

No way John is gonna dress up like some goddamn banker, but he was totally ready to tease you about having to squeeze into a corset and frilly dress. The problem is, you’re gorgeous in it. He doesn’t know shit about women’s clothes or fashion, but something about the color and style just suits you so perfectly, like it was made only for you. He wants to give a sassy comment, but he just … can’t. John goes for a genuine compliment, but his cheeks and ears are tomato red as he mutters “ya look real nice”. If you hate the clothes, it’s a little easier for him to joke around with you, but if you love them and you’re twirling around, as happy as a kid and looking like an actual lady from one of those fancy paintings? He can only take so much sweetness before he has to duck his head and distract himself with something.

When the gunfight breaks out at the party, John is right by your side before you can blink. You don’t know how he moved so fast, but soon his arm is around your waist and getting you back to his horse. John isn’t the most graceful about this, and the dress is meant for dancing, not riding… so it ends up ripping as you two make your escape. Once you’re in a safe place and you can get out of the damn thing, John’s attention goes straight to the tears in the dress, specifically the one that’s showing the stockings and garterbelt you had to wear. The lingerie looks fantastic - it definitely awakens something in him.

DUTCH VAN DER LINDE

First off, he is not sneaky. Not at all. You know exactly why you were asked to play a role in this little con, and it was so Dutch could see you all dressed up. Now, either you’re totally annoyed by this because screw frills and lace, or you’re delighted because you can dress up like some fancy lady and rob rich folks. Also, it’s pretty funny how he pretends not to be interested in the sort of dress and jewelry you and the girls are deciding on. You know he’s trying very hard not to make a suggestion, and just to be a little mean, you made sure he was within earshot when you mentioned the matter of corsets and fancy undergarments to the girls.

Once at the party, Dutch plays at being some rich banker and you’re his young foreign wife. It’s absurdly easy to pull off, even with your terrible accent, and after each conversation you both are trying not to laugh. He’s definitely liking being able to have an arm around your waist and being able to lean in and whisper to you, but he won’t push his boundaries, especially if you’re already uncomfortable being all dressed up and powdered. While you two are dancing, he’ll whisper in that deep voice, praising you for how perfect you’ve been, or reassuring you that it’ll be over soon. When the shooting started, Dutch pulled you to a safe place you could lie low in, but if you bothered him enough he’d hand you a gun and let you join the shootout. 

Back at camp, Dutch’s flirting hasn’t dulled in the slightest. He’ll sit close to you as everyone else celebrates, mentioning how wonderful you were and if you need help slipping out of anything. If you let him, he’ll help unlace those fancy boots, even massage your poor ankles and calves since you aren’t used to wearing tall shoes. Isn’t that thoughtful?

HOSEA MATTHEWS

Nearly all of this con was his idea, and you’re glad to help run it. Hosea is playing the part of some eccentric philanthropist and you’re a grand-niece or some relative. The two of you talk so smooth and fast, easily working off each other, that the hosts of the party don’t stand a chance. Hosea wants to avoid any sort of violence, but knowing the gang, who knows what will happen, so he wants you to stay close to him. During lulls in conversation, when you and Hosea are just observing the crowd and deciding who to speak with next, he’ll lean in and whisper something to you. It makes goosebumps break out on your skin, you can feel how warm he is and sometimes he’ll run a hand up your back as he compliments you on what a natural you are, or reassures you that it’ll be over soon. He’ll truly feel bad if you hate having to dress up and pretend like this; so he’s grateful you agreed to come along and help. If you’re thriving off the party and the trickery, he’ll give you knowing grins and winks that make him seem fifteen years younger. There’s a surprising amount of mischief in him. 

When the inevitable fight breaks out (he totally called it), Hosea swiftly gets you to a safe part of the house he noticed earlier. From there you two snatch several stashes of jewels and cash and stealthily make your way out. Hosea had to be convinced to steal as much as you both did; he was terribly worried about you, since the dress would be difficult to run in. When you’re back at camp, Hosea isn’t shy about telling you what a great job you did, and how proud he is. He’ll give a kiss to your cheek and he’s very smooth about offering to remove anything that’s giving you trouble. 

SADIE ADLER

Thank god she’s not the one in the fucking gown, that’s all she has to say. Well, that, and the jokes and snark she throws your way while you’re getting ready. If you hate the dress just as much, too bad, you were roped into the plan and Sadie is having lots of playful teasing at your expense. If you adore it and start modeling it for her, she won’t admit how cute you’re being… but she will consider wearing a tuxedo and being some “hoity toity” man just to make sure you’re safe. She doesn’t trust the “gentleman” at this party at all, and the closer you both get to the manor, the more antsy she becomes. All her previous humor is gone as she urges you to find her right away if trouble happens. Sadie is absolutely going to bring your favorite gun along and was trying to figure out a way to strap a revolver to your leg until Hosea pulled you away. You promise you’ll be alright, but she doesn’t look reassured. 

The expected fight breaks out, and like you promised, you beeline for Sadie. She’s already on you - how the hell did she get into the manor so fast? - and she’s tossed your gun in your hands. Soon enough you both are blasting your way out of the manor. She gets impatient when you fall for the second time and rips the dress herself so you can run easier. It was your horse she brought around to escape, and Sadie hoisted you up, sat herself in the back and kept shooting while you rode to safety. It was… a hectic and messy escape, but neither of you had a scratch. Once you’re at the camp, she doesn’t feel bad for ripping the dress, even if you liked it. It was necessary, and besides, you can’t keep the frilly thing! Okay, she’ll apologize if you pout. If you hated it she’s more than happy to help you burn it. 

MICAH BELL

How the hell is he supposed to respond to this? It would be one thing if you caked on make-up like a tart and strapped yourself into some circus tent-looking contraption, he could work with that. His brain just stops functioning for a few seconds when the girls finally unveil the work they did on you. If you hated the dress and it wasn’t something you’d wear unless a gun was pointed to your head, then Micah certainly had choice words to say, teasing and mocking the difference between this and your regular attire… except they were much weaker insults than he usually had. You were too distracted and uncomfortable to even care. If you adored all of it, practically buzzing with excitement as you turned and twirled for everyone, he might even try an attempt at a compliment, although it’d come out all jumbled and flustered. He decides to stay away and just watch you from a distance, both enjoying the view and trying to figure out this stupid knot in his stomach.

At least you two are apart during the party, so he doesn’t have to look at you enjoying yourself and swaying around in that dress. When the fight starts, he can finally have something else to put his mind to … until he sees you get caught in the crossfire. Micah would throw you a gun he pulled off someone, barking at you to follow him. Dutch told him to get you to safety, which he initially bristled at, but then he dutifully put you up on Baylock. He told you to keep shooting while he rode off - and he still got plenty of shots in himself. Once you were back at camp, he wouldn't apologize for dirtying the dress. It had to be done, and now the job is done, so you can get out of it…. and he would absolutely offer to cut it off with his knife. The whole thing, corset and all. He's gonna fantasize about it well after the fact, too.

CHARLES SMITH

If you love getting a chance to dress up and wear jewels, Charles can tell, and he finds your joy just adorable. If you dislike the idea of having to dress up for a stupid party, even if it’s a robbery, he’s very encouraging and reassures you as many times as you need. This kind of con isn’t really his scene, but he knows you’ll do well and he promises to look after you during the whole thing. He’ll even have you ride along with him on Taima if that'll settle your nerves. Once you arrive, Charles helps you down like a gentleman. If you’re still uneasy, he asks you to wait a moment and then comes back with a rose he picked from the garden. He places it neatly in your tied back hair. “Perfect. Don’t worry, you’ll do great, and when things go south, I’ll be there. Promise.”

Once the fight breaks out, Charles is true to his word and helps you escape in the chaos. You have no idea where he came from, but you didn’t refuse the help, or the gun he offered you - at some point he’d packed your favorite one - and you’re pulled up on Taima as gunshots go off all around you. Charles put you on the front of his horse to protect you better, even if it’s harder to shoot from there. It sort of makes you feel like a princess being swept away. When you two return to the camp, he tidies the rose in your hair and offers to help remove the restrictive dress or massage your legs if they hurt … casually, of course. Probably.

BILL WILLIAMSON

When the girls finally unveiled their handiwork, he thought his heart was stopping. You were so pretty - well, you normally were, but now more than ever. You looked like one of those porcelain dolls they put in music boxes. Bill didn’t even want to touch you or stand too close, worried he’d dirty you somehow. He couldn’t believe you wanted him to play the role of the bodyguard that would follow you around the party.... Though he played the part well, his silence combined with his big build made him seem intimidating. If you were clearly miserable in the dress and with the company, he wasn’t sure what to say to make you feel better, so he stayed quiet. If you were loving the dress and just thriving in the party, fooling everyone into thinking you were some high-class belle … Well, he was too distracted watching you, still not able to say much.

Eventually he had to split off from you to join the men, which he didn’t appreciate, but he made a point to bring your gun along with his. When the expected gunfight broke out, Bill beelined for you, practically tossing a man that was too close and handed over your gun. He didn’t expect you to be so grateful, it made him blush in spite of the gunshots going off all around you two.

The fight was more dangerous than expected, so Bill hoisted you up on Brown Jack without warning and raced off. Your dress ended up getting ripped from his haste, and if you really liked it, he feels bad for screwing it up. It’s easy to turn around his mood by complimenting what a good “bodyguard” he was. Just don’t flirt too much, he’s already had a mess of feelings today.

JAVIER ESCUELLA

He was trying to hide his excitement when he found out you were going to be dressing up and joining the others on this con. You’re already an angel, now he’s going to see you dressed in a beautiful gown and decorated with jewels? It fit so perfectly, too, like it was made for you. Javier wouldn’t hide his approval of the outfit, even giving you some suggestions on more comfortable shoes or a better hat. Mary-Beth thought it was adorable and left him to help you out - that made it much harder for him to hide how pleased he was with your outfit. If you truly hated it, he’d understand and would try to reassure you that not only did it look wonderful, you were going to pull the job off perfectly. His warm hands would sit on your shoulders as he said this, hoping you trusted in him. If you’re the sort who loves dressing up and conning, he shares your happiness and will even dance with you a little before you have to leave, relishing in your giggles. 

While the party went off well, with you playing your part perfectly, chaos inevitably broke out. You have no idea where Javier came from, but you were damn grateful that he’d seen you and pulled you into a safe corner. Together you both snuck into the manor, stole as much jewelry as you could carry and easily slipped out the back, gunshots still echoing through the place. Javier grinned as he draped all the stolen necklaces and bracelets on you, asking you to keep them safe for now. You clasped your arms tightly around his torso when you rode away with him, resting your head against his back whenever you got tired.

SEAN MACGUIRE

He all but jumps out of his seat with delight when he spots you. Mary-Beth is still fussing with your hair, but the corset under your dress has already done all sorts of magic, and the dress itself hugged you like you were meant to wear it. Of course he can’t resist from fawning all over you. He wants to pick you up and twirl you like a princess, but Miss Gaskill scolds him for dirtying the dress and he gets dragged away by the men. For once Sean was wishing he was away from the action and complained enough that they let him accompany you on the carriage - that is, as the driver. Sean didn’t even notice if you were extremely uncomfortable, he was too busy gabbing about the party and saying what a natural you’d be. When you finally have to leave, he takes your hand and gives you a warm smile. “You’ll do great. I know it.” He didn’t realize how comforting it was.

Once trouble began, you were impressed how quickly Sean scrambled to your side, and with your gun no less. Before you could question how he did it, he was gleefully shooting and directing you away from the fight. As much as Sean wanted to stay and end it, he was far more concerned with your safety, you noticed. He swung you up on his horse with little grace, and even if your dress was ruined with blood and mud and your hat went flying off, you laughed as you wrapped your arms around his torso and listened to the wild man whoop and shoot through the escape. Sean would absolutely be the type to help you off the horse and insist on carrying you around camp, bragging about his “rescue” the whole time.

LENNY SUMMERS

God damn it, he already thought you were cute! Now you’re gorgeous and he’s way too bashful to say anything about it for a while. He’s thankful for the girls fussing over you and the boys dragging him off to discuss the plan, because being around you is too distracting and makes his thoughts short-circuit a bit. He’s normally fine with talking to you! And it’s just a dress, so what’s different? If you really loved the outfit, you’d be a natural in it, and Lenny would find your enthusiasm and confidence very attractive. If you clearly hated it, he’d want to comfort you somehow, but would worry about coming off wrong. It’s a shame you didn’t like the outfit, because you looked fantastic in it. Before he had to leave with the boys, he’d pay you a compliment. “You’re gonna do real well, miss. Um, you … you really fit the role.”

He has a good sense of when things will go south, and when Lenny felt the tension in the air, he made a point to find you in the crowd. Ones the bullets started flying, he found you before you even made sense of the situation. Lenny would rather get you to safety right away, but if you want a gun, he ain’t denying you. All his previous nervousness would be gone as you both would shoot up the place, then find a horse to escape on. Lenny wouldn’t feel that shyness again until you both got back to camp, when he had to help you off the horse. He’ll immediately start joking about your dirty dress and praising your gun skills to keep his beating heart in line. Lenny feels much better when you’re back in your old clothes.

KIERAN DUFFY

He was embarrassed enough watching the girls parade you around, pleased with their work, and they had every right to be - you looked even more beautiful than the women in the magazines. It’s like you walked right out of them. He felt bad if you were forced into the role, knowing you probably hated the whole get-up, but if you absolutely enjoyed it, he was enchanted by how you seemed to beam with happiness. He’d only seen you like that a few other times, and he was pleased to commit it to memory. When you’re getting ready to leave, he can’t help but give you words of encouragement. He can’t imagine you’ll do anything but shine at the party. 

Kieran was tasked with staying behind at the camp, as he expected, but at least he was trusted to hold a gun and stay on watch duty. His thoughts often drifted to you, wondering if you were doing well and if you were sick of the party or having the time of your life. When he heard powerful hoofbeats, he snapped at attention, readying the gun and calling out... only to recognize your horse and your silhouette. Your dress was a torn mess, but it was still restrictive, so Kieran wasted little time in helping you down. “Miss, are you alright? You aren’t - is that your blood or someone else’s? Alright, good. C’mon, sit down here.” 

You told him about what happened at the party, how things got out of control and you had to flee in a hurry. The boys were likely splitting up to shake the law off them. Kieran was so relieved you were alright, his heart was hammering but outwardly he was calm as he helped tie your sprained ankle and get you some water. He wasn’t his nervous self at all, tending to you and asking questions with confidence ... until you pointed out you needed help getting out of the corset and dress.

TILLY JACKSON

Tilly was initially in charge of “acquiring” the jewelry and accessories you’d wear, but she ended up shooing the other girls away when they kept suggesting ridiculous hair and make-up ideas. She didn’t care what lady’s magazine Karen read, Tilly wasn’t about to turn you into a side-show act. She was always helping you with this or that, you both relied on each other. She always knew how to reassure you, taking your face in her hands as she spoke softly. “Listen, it’s nothin’ you ain’t done before, just wearin’ somethin’ fancy now. And those boys will do their job right and keep you safe, I’ll make damn sure of that.”

If you hate this sort of thing - dressing up and conning others - Tilly would’ve tried to help you get a different role, but ultimately, you had to do it. She’d give you a softer version of her usual tough love. If you loved it, Tilly would be the one teasing you to get your head out of the clouds. Either way, when you were distracted, she’d threaten the hell out of the boys to keep you safe. Even Arthur would get an earful; if you so much as came back with a scratch, she’d have their hides. If you came back a muddy, bloody mess because you couldn’t resist joining in the gunfights, Tilly would have your hide, too. If you came back mostly clean because you avoided the fight, she’d just laugh and tease you for being so “fussy” - but she was relieved you came straight to camp. The dress and jewels are all sold afterward, but Tilly keeps some bits of fabric to sew you both something. 

MARY-BETH GASKILL

You have a feeling she’s enjoying this ... a lot. While the both of you were cool as you acquired the dress and jewels to go with it, as soon as you were back at camp, Mary-Beth was giggling and going on about how to do your hair. Soon enough you were dragged off to a tent for privacy and she dressed you up, cooing over your figure in the dress and how nice you looked. She didn’t even notice how flustered you were getting - of course if you enjoyed dressing up, you could share in her enthusiasm and get her advice on how to style it. If you hated it ... Mary-Beth reassured you it looked wonderful, “just like a princess!” Well, that didn’t help, but her obvious swooning was pretty cute. Mary-Beth ended up coming along with the job, dressed up herself and playing the part of your “companion”, since all high-society ladies were about that. You’re pretty sure companions weren’t supposed to be as red-faced or affectionate as she was around their ladies, but you weren’t complaining.

At the party you two were naturals, and what little screw-ups were quickly covered up. If Mary-Beth didn’t know something, you did, and vice-versa. You two were actually quite a team, and you noticed Hosea winking at you in approval from across the room. When trouble was starting, you pulled Mary-Beth aside and you both hastily dug through the manor’s drawers and silver cabinets while the gunshots went off outside. If you needed to defend her, you would, but luckily it didn’t come to that. You were able to steal a horse from their stable and go riding off, Mary-Beth holding tightly and urging you to go faster. You both couldn’t resist keeping two matching bracelets from the robbery.

KAREN JONES

Karen may not be interested in passing as one of those hoity toity girls, but she’s absolutely gonna help dress you up as one. She’s laughing the whole time, throwing out suggestions and distracting the hell out of Tilly and Mary-Beth as they work. Karen was the one who found the dress, and you’re surprised at how well it flatters you and how the color suits you so well. “Didn’t I say I know how to pick ‘em? Now tighten up those laces! Society ladies don’t have fun!” Karen is quite pushy regardless if you want to do the job or not - if you don’t, she’ll all but drag you to the carriage the boys brought and force you in. It’s a hell of a chance to get a lot of money, and she doesn’t want you missing it. If you love it, that’s all the better! She teases you plenty either way while you’re trying to dress, and gives you a big kiss before you have to set out, not caring who sees. You were long gone by the time she turned on the boys and all but threatened them to bring you back safely.

The party was lonely without Karen, you wished she had been part of the plan so you both could talk together instead of mingling with these insufferable people. Sure, she may have been a little too loud and unladylike... but it would’ve been far more fun. You escaped on cue, making a point to steal a gorgeous stallion as you left the manor behind, listening to gunshots ring out through the night. The boys (and Sadie) were doing their part, so it was time to go home. You had not expected Karen to come riding on your horse with a gun. “Damn it, you were takin’ too long! I got worried...”

She tried to hide how worried she actually was on the way back. She helped you out of the infernal buttons, lacing and corset, and gladly snuggled your aching body. By the time the boys returned to camp, you both had fallen asleep in your tent.

FLACO HERNANDEZ

You’d mentioned the plan in passing to Flaco, and he was so worried for your safety he came all the way down from that forsaken mountain to make sure it went off well. He didn’t hide that he disliked you working with “that little gang” when you could just stay with him, but that was for another time. While everyone ran around preparing for the con, he watched with great amusement as you were primped and stuffed into a corset and ballgown, whistling at you and making plenty of jokes. You weren’t going to live this down, ever. Once your outfit and hair was mostly finished, Flaco patted his lap and you sat obediently until it was time to go. Even if you hated the dress, Flaco thinks you look beautiful and will tell you so, kissing your cheek and muttering all sorts of sweet things to distract your nerves. He really doesn’t care about showing you off, if anything, he’s amused by your friends trying to look away. 

It was hard not to think of him as the party progressed. You played the role well enough, but soon you were itching to get back to camp. Who knew how long he would stay around before going back to that cold place? The expected gunfight broke you out of your thoughts, and as you made your escape ... you suddenly felt a pair of familiar, fuzzy arms wrapping around you. “I’ve got you now, princesa. Why don’t you come back with Flaco?”

He was able to get you back, but not to your gang’s camp. Flaco had set up his own spot, making a point to bring your horse and your things... the only way the gang knew you were alright is he left word with Miss Grimshaw (after she gave him a thorough ‘questioning’ about his relationship with you).  You better believe he’d help you out of that fancy ensemble, but if you really loved it he’d urge you to dance and spin around for him. It’s a rare day when he sees you wearing something other than four layers, after all. 

[battyjester]

Bill x f!reader + dawn

A gift at Dawn

Bill/Fem!reader!

Words:782

Warnings: Kissing and Javier being a Lil shit

You slowly open your eyes, the hazy fog of sleep gently fading away as you sat up in your tent,

you had placed your tent near the shoreline of Flat Iron Lake, the sea breeze keeping you cool during these warmer months.

the sun was just starting to peek over the horizon, casting dancing light upon the waves.

Very few people would be awake at this hour, save those just coming off the night watch and maybe Pearson getting breakfast ready for everyone.

Figuring that you had plenty of time before you had to actually start your day, you decided that a quick walk along the beach would be perfect.

You let out a long yawn as you left your tent dressed in only your nightgown, not bothering with shoes either and if someone had a problem they were more than welcome to fuck off.

Clemens point was a beautiful place to camp, it was a shame that you all had to move here under such unfortunate circumstances, well, now that you thought about it the past couple of months have been full of the same misfortune.

Shaking those upsetting thoughts from your head you tried to focus on taking some deep breaths as you walked when your focus was pulled away to another figure on the beach.

The Figure was standing by the shore, gaze cold as they looked towards the rising sun. Their larger frame and familiar slouch hat making their identity clear.

"Good morning Mr Williamson," You said softly as you approached his side, standing a respectful distance away,

Bill Jumped when he realized he wasn't alone, a light blush covering his cheeks as his eyes met yours.

"M-Morning Miss," he said with a shy wave.

The air between you filled with silence again as Bill went back to watching the sunrise, you quickly realizing you'd have to carry most of the conversation yourself.

You didn't mind it as much as you should, you'd been waiting for an opportunity to talk with Bill alone, away from the prying eyes of the other camp members.

"I've never seen you awake before dawn before!"

"Yeah well, ain't had a reason to be"

You watched as Bill's boots began to idly dig into the sand and his hands reached deep into his pockets, he seemed nervous.

"But today there's a reason?" you asked as you shuffled closer,

Bill lifted his gaze to you, holding it for longer this time, the blush on his face glowing brighter.

"Ye-Yeah, there is" Bill stepped towards you, barely a few inches between you know.

He pulled out his hands from his pockets and gestured you to lay your own out flat.

"I uh, I noticed that you liked getting up Early and uh, I wanted to give you this before the rest of them woke up" Bill wore a small smile as he jerked his head towards camp.

When you looked down into your hands you saw the most beautiful earrings.

Two large sapphires delicately wrapped in silver with two stunning diamonds hanging from them, you felt affection swell in your chest and you threw yourself into Bills arms, hugging him with all your strength.

Bill stood still in shock for a few moments before he melted in the hug, his beard tickling your neck as he did.

You two stood there, embraced, neither wanting to part, it was like two puzzle pieces had finally connected.

"What brought this on?" You asked as you snuggled further into him.

Bill mumbled something into your shoulder that you couldn't quite hear, so you pulled your head away.

"What was that?" you whispered to him,

You huffed out a laugh as you heard Bill grumble annoyed as he pulled out of the embrace,

"Yous have always been nice to me so I wanted to getcha something"

You giggled as Bill realized that wasn't a good enough explanation,

"I think that, uh, well, you're really pretty so, so I wanted t-"

You stopped Bill by gently placing your lips on his, you felt the tension leave his body as he slipped his arms back around your waist his body and lips melding perfectly with yours.

The rest of the world seemed to fade away, your entire focus only on each other and the heat you shared.

Until someone cleared their throat nearby.

You and Bill jumped away from each other like you were two young kids caught behind the barn, It was Javier,

The revolutionary smirked over his tin cup that was steaming with coffee, his eyes shifting from you to Bill before speaking.

"Ah, so this is why you wanted the wake-up call at Dawn eh Compadre?"

[splat-dragon]

Hi again!!! Could I request another Micah fic- but with EXTREME body horror? Maybe something with his face, where’s he’s kept alive and tortured? If you could do some branding and amputation (any amount of limbs- get crazy heehee) along with the other body horror and mutilation- that would be incredible!!! Tysm!!! 💖💕💖💕💖

why won't somebody come and save me from this, make it end?

AO3 LINK

@thedoodlenoodle-wa

“You know, Mr. Bell, my opinion on traitors.”

 and if the devil wore a man’s skin, the devil stood before him. Micah had never feared Van Der Linde - rather the opposite, in fact. Had thought him a soft fool, long fallen from his days as Dutch Van Der Linde, Outlaw King, but as he took in the feral smile and the hard glint of his beetle’s shell eyes, he knew that this was the face countless lawmen had seen just before their deaths.

 “Dutch,” he tried a final time, “I ain’t no traitor,”

 but the man only inclined his head in acquiescence, “I know, Mr. Bell. You’re a survivor.”  

 Micah’s eyes widened, looking from gang member to gang member, but none of them had so much as a hint of pity, of sympathy in their eyes. Even the O’Driscoll’s eyes were dark with, if not hate, severe dislike - and Bell’s chest burned with rage, the man was a snake himself!

 Van Der Linde clapped once, and their heads snapped to him as dogs to their master, “Mr. Morgan, Mr. Smith, Mr. Williamson, Mr. Matthews, if you would make sure our friend can’t make a run for it?”

 Our friend.

  Our friend.

 He knew what ‘our friend’ meant, and it was nothing good. Ice dripped down his spine and, at the nasty grin on Morgan’s face, at the dawning realization on Smith’s and Williamson’s faces when they looked from Morgan to Matthews, he felt his heart drop into the floor.

 “The rest of you, please go back to work! It’s crowded down here, and they’ll need space to work.” There were calls of discontent, and rather loud grumblings, but everyone cleared out, Van Der Linde waiting until they were all gone before clapping Matthews on the shoulder and following suit.

“Come on,” he tried for calm, for collected, didn’t think he pulled it off quite as well as he meant to, “you don’t really think I’d rat on you, do you?” but no one said anything, ignored him as Williamson lit the fire, throwing firewood in, while Smith relaxed against the wall with Matthews, the latter whispering something to Morgan before doing so, the younger man clambering up the stairs, “Where’s he going?”

 No one replied - he might as well have been furniture for how much attention was paid to him.

Morgan came clattering down, the flames in the fireplace roaring so hot they were sweating, something gleaming bright in his hand, passed off to Williamson and shoved into the flames so quickly he couldn’t get a good look at it, “What is that?” and his voice was much higher than he’d intended it to be.

 Again, he was ignored, Matthews instead addressing the three, “Make sure he’s well tied down ‘cept his right leg, I want to make sure you don’t get hit.”

 He fought, thrashed against his bindings, but he was already well tied and they carefully redid the ropes until they dug into his skin, he could feel his hair being torn out with each twitch and growled angrily, lashing out with his free leg. A whack to the back of his head stunned him,and he slumped, barely aware of his pants being torn off, cut where they were stopped by his bindings, and thrown off into the corner.

Matthews began to tap just below his knee, his voice distorted as he tried to gather his senses about him, drawing a line just under his kneecap, and Williamson nodded solemnly, though his face was anything but.

 Morgan dumped alcohol on his leg and he jolted, “What the hell?” and if grins could kill half of New Hanover would’ve dropped over dead.

 “Mr. Morgan, Mr. Smith, please keep him still.”

 “Yes Hosea!” they knelt, dragging his leg out and wrapping their arms around his lower leg, holding it so still that, though he tried to kick, he couldn’t even manage to twitch his foot, barely even managed to wriggle his toes. 

 “What the hell?!” he barked, but again was ignored, a scraping noise catching his attention and he turned to see Williamson drawing something white-hot from the fire, “What is that?” then as he neared he realized, oh god that’s a bone-saw what are they doing?

 “Careful, Bill,”

 “I know I know,” he grumbled, aligning the bone-saw just below his knee and Micah howled, jolting back or, at least, tried to, was well bound and Morgan and Smith had a good grip on his leg, already burning though he wasn’t yet touched and then—

  Tearing.

  Ripping.

 He couldn’t even scream.

  Sawing.

 His mouth gaped soundlessly, and he tried to double over, tried to lash out, but Smith and Morgan tightened their grips, held his leg straight out, and Williamson continued to saw steadfastly, sawing through skin and fat and muscle, cussing and carefully adjusting his cut when he scraped bone, turning up their noses at the scent of burning flesh.

  StopstopstopstopstopitHURTS

 The saw severed the last of the clinging skin and his lower leg dropped, would have hit the floor if it weren’t for Smith and Morgan’s hands gripping near his ankle, grimacing as they held the severed limb. “Take it upstairs Arthur,” and Smith was happy to let Morgan take the limb upstairs, stepping back to stand near the fire, as far from Micah as possible. “Is he bleeding, Bill?”

 Bill turned back from where he’d been shoving the bone-saw into the fire, giving Micah’s stump a cursory glance, “Naw, it burned it shut nicely.”

 Micah whimpered pitifully, mouth opening and closing - whywhywhy they’d crippled him they’d ruined him they’d destroyed him he was ruined

 His ears rang, their words swam through his head like so much water, and then they were going upstairs and why were they going upstairs why were they leaving him alone nonono don’t leave me alone!

An hour passed.

 Two.

 At least by his estimate, but he hadn’t a watch or a clock or a window or, even, a sundial. 

 Then three.

 And still, he was left alone.

 The silence rattled in his bones, each thud of his heart as loud as the crack of a gunshot. His leg hurt, God, it hurt, but it wasn't a leg anymore was it it was a stump

 If he opened his mouth he was going to scream, and scream, and scream.

He needed to run.

 They'd left him to starve, surely. To suffer to death.

 But he was not going to just sit there and starve. He began to twist his wrists, to work at the rope, bit his tongue against the pain as the rope shredded his skin, blood dripping down his arms until, finally! the knot on one came free and he tore at the other, growling as he flayed the skin of his fingers, surging and hurrying to free his ankle.

 Looked at his stump, felt the world wobble around him, tore his eyes away - he could freak out later, or never, preferably never - and staggered to his feet-foot, lurching and grabbing the wall as a crutch.

 Micah took a deep breath, leaned on the wall, and took a step.

 Hop.

 Step.

 Hop.

 Step.

 When he got out, he was going to kill them. Stand tall and proud and grin as he watched them hang.

 Hop.

 Step.

 Hop.

 Put a bullet through Williamson himself, Milton wouldn't mind much.

 Step.

 Hop.

 So long as they ended up dead, Milton would be happy.

At the stairs, he hesitated. Snarled, and lowered himself, a scream bitten off as he held his stump off the ground and began to crawl up, eyes on the cellar door.

 So close.

 It hurt.

 So close.

 It hurt.

He crouched as best he could when he couldn’t go any higher without hitting his head on the cellar door, straining his hearing and praying there was no one waiting. If they found him… if they found him trying to escape, who knew what they would do?

 Micah’d underestimated them once, and he didn’t intend to do so again.

There was silence and so he pushed it up, just slightly, and peered out. Only trees, and brush, and nothing else that he could make out, no voices or even horses, so he dared to open it and crawl out, biting his tongue until it bled when he had to put weight on his stump as he stood as best he could, grabbing a nearby tree and—

 —then he was off. Hobbling, grabbing anything he could use as a crutch. Tree by tree

 Hop

 Step

 Hop

 Step

 Tree

 Tree

 Tree

 And then he fell, and let himself lie, feeling awful sorry for himself. Agony throbbed through his leg, and it took all he had not to whine and whimper and cry out, and then he forced himself to stand and keep going, the further away he was when they found him gone the better and—

 “There he is!”

 His eyes went wide, 'Nonono!' and he began to hop - hopstephopstep - as fast as he could, but then Morgan was on him and the barrel of a gun was slamming into his head and pain!

and he was waking up back in the cellar, bound so tight he could hardly breathe.

  ‘No! Nononono!’

 He wasn’t alone for long. The cellar door creaked open, and his heart began to race, to leap and to bound so quickly he feared it might stop altogether, and then, impossibly, it raced faster when he saw Matthews and Smith and Williamson and Morgan coming down the stairs, faces serious as a heart attack.

  ‘No, no, no!’

 “That was real dumb Micah,” Morgan smirked, a slow, cruel thing that crawled across his face and bared his teeth, and Matthews patted his arm,

 “Don’t be mean, Arthur,” before directing Williamson to start the fire and oh god what were they going to do?

 Micah yelled, muffled by his gag, and slammed his foot into the ground, bound only by ropes around his arms, and Morgan looked to Matthews, raised an eyebrow, and the old man nodded, and then they were descending on him and he couldn’t even scream as they broke his leg, grabbing it and bringing his thigh down so hard over Morgan’s that the bone broke in half like a twig, Smith slamming his fist into his face, Morgan’s fists into his stomach and he felt something break, his nose shattered, then another rib, fuck he couldn’t breathe—

 “Enough boys, we want him alive.”

 They fell off, knuckles split and bloodied, eyes never leaving him as they stepped back to stand on either side of Matthews. Micah slumped over, gasping as best he could around the gag, testing metal, struggling not to drown in the blood from his broken nose, his head throbbing both from Smith’s punch and from the blow of Morgan’s gun, his ribs screaming, waves crashing in his ears as they talked, words nonsensical to him, moving around and doing… well, he wasn’t sure what.

 And then pain.

 Morgan and Smith were grabbing his snapped leg and pulling it straight out and he shrieked, writhing, tears dripping down his face and god he didn’t cry, he never cried, bile was rising in his throat and he struggled to swallow it down if he vomited he was going to choke to death, but would that really be so bad?

 Williamson approached, then, and though his vision was hazy he could make out the glowing of something in his hands and something snapped, nonononono oh god not again, he screamed and thrashed but they held his leg perfectly still, he couldn’t hear he couldn’t see oh god not again but there was nothing he could do as Williamson brought the blade down and began to saw just below his knee, mouth moving in a way that looked almost like he was whistling, and painpainpain he went limp, swallowing convulsively to keep from vomiting and choking and dying but almost wanted to because makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop but he refused to give them the satisfaction and then they were pulling his lower leg away and carrying it upstairs, leaving him to slump down in the chair and stare at the cauterized stumps that remained of his legs.

  ‘Oh my god.’

 He was never going to run again.

 He was never going to ride a horse again.

 He was never going to fucking walk again.

 They’d ruined him.

 They’d made him useless.

  ‘Uselessuselessuseless.’

PAIN.

 He arched with a scream, jerked and tried to reach up, to grab the brand that was crawling across his upper shoulders in some sort of pattern and oh god it hurts make it STOP but the bindings stopped them abruptly, tore at his skin, shredded it until blood splattered to the ground and he sobbed, slumping over with a pitiful moan ‘letmedieletmedieletmedie’ and Williamson finished branding in 

  DER LINDE

 looking to Matthews for approval, the man nodding and turning, saying something to the three Micah didn’t catch, his heart thudding too loud in his ears ‘killmekillmeKILLME’ and they vanished up the stairs and then he was blacking out—

How long he was out, he didn’t know. Long enough that the pain had dulled some, and that his wrists stopped bleeding.

 He kept his eyes closed, listened out. There was no breathing other than his, no muttering voices or even the crackle of the fireplace. So he dared to open them, found himself alone again, the fire down to ash, the cellar beginning to grow cold and he found himself shivering, it must have been the middle of the night he was sure, he was going to lose his fingers and his toes to the cold but oh god he’d already lost his toes hadn’t he? His toes and his feet and his lower legs oh god oh god oh god don’t focus on that now Micah he needed to get out.

 So, again, he began to saw at the ropes, vision going white as the rope dug into his flesh, as he worked to undo it, to loosen the rope until it would come undone. How long it took, he couldn’t say, long enough that it began to grow warmer, that he began to grow dizzy from the blood that bubbled from around the rope, that poured to the ground and pooled around his feet, but finally one of the ropes came loose enough that, with a jerk up, he was able to send it tumbling to the ground, reaching over and clawing at the other with numb, cold fingers until it came undone and joined the other, lurching forward and collapsing to the floor with a muffled scream of agony.

 Oh god, his ribs.

 Oh god, his face.

 Oh god, his stumps.

 Make it stop.

 Micah blacked out.

He didn’t know how long he was out, but he woke up shivering, shaking and shuddering, his face tacky with tears. The pain had dulled to a weak throbbing, and ‘Fuck make it stop please god’ how long had he been unconscious what if they were coming? Fuck if they found him free of his bindings he didn’t want to know what they’d do, he didn’t have any more legs for them to cut off oh god his legs he retched and turned his head and emptied his stomach on the ground, nothing more than bile how long had it been since he’d eaten?

 God, he needed to move. So he began to drag himself forward, digging his fingers into the dirt, groaning through clenched teeth as the shredded skin on the end of his fingers was torn back open on the rough ground, each pull taking more of his strength than he thought he had, he had to reach down and seek it, his shoulders screamed and he groaned pitifully as the dirt tore at his bared stomach, as more and more of the skin on his fingertips was shredded and ripped away.

 And then he was at the bottom of the stairs, and he thought dying might be worth it. Because hauling himself up the stairs was going to be agony, was going to take more energy, more strength, than he thought he had, but he’d already gotten this far and he was a survivor, dammit! so he reached up and grabbed the highest step he could reach, biting his tongue against a scream as the uneven steps gouged his stomach, collapsing when he could go no further and curling on himself, having cut his stumps, slamming a fist against the steps before making himself continue.

 Up, and up, and up. It could have been hours, or it could have been minutes, though it felt like the former. He left streaks of blood behind him, didn’t dare to look though he knew it must look like a murder scene, a carcass being dragged, could feel himself growing horribly woozy.

 Micah slumped when his head brushed against the door of the cellar, gasping and taking a moment to catch his breath and—

 —naturally, the cellar door flew up and open, and he had a moment to see a look of almost comical surprise on Morgan, Smith, and Matthews’ faces, before Morgan’s foot swung back and flicked forward, and his face exploded with pain (there went his nose again) and his head snapped back, his torso lifted off the ground, then his hips and stumps followed, and he was tumbling down the stairs with a howl of pain, vision going white as he struck the last stair skull first, laying still as he struggled to gather his wits about him, able only to moan weakly as Smith and Morgan gripped his arms and dragged him to the chair, throwing him into it and binding his torso below his armpits and at his hips, then stretching his arms out on the armrests and binding his wrists tightly.

He couldn’t make out what they were saying - his mind was still buzzing, the world spinning around him. He couldn’t think, couldn’t hear, couldn’t see. Could only just feel as Morgan swung his foot and slammed it into one of his stumps, couldn’t even react other than to blink dully - a concussion, surely?

 His shooting arm was pulled out straight, and Morgan shook his head, “Shouldn’t’a done that Micah,” as Williamson began to saw through his arm just passed his elbow, Micah trying to focus on anything else (I’llneverbeabletoshootagainI’muselessI’muselessI’museless) and realizing that Matthews was nowhere to be seen as his forearm and hand hit the ground, taken upstairs by Morgan who, after the pair had cleaned up and wrapped the cauterized wound, was followed by Williamson and Smith.

He waited as long as he dared - other members of the gang visited him, mauled him. Took out their frustrations on him, fed him only as much as he needed. By Morgan’s fourth visit he was determined to escape and, so, he counted out a thousand seven times before working himself free.

 He dragged himself two paces, sun shone into the cellar, and he went limp as Smith sighed, tromping down the stairs and digging his fingers into his hair, dragging him by it into the chair, deaf to his hollering and shouting of pain - his stumps and other wounds had long gone numb - flinging him into it and binding him loosely before vanishing up the stairs.

 It didn’t surprise Micah when they stretched out his final arm, bound him tightly, and sawed it off.

Slowly, they stopped coming.

 MacGuire was the first. Grew bored with prodding at his wounds, tugging to worsen them and prevent their healing, of cracking jokes about how his teeth were 'worse than mine now, huh?’

 Then Escuella, the man losing the perverse pleasure he seemed to take in dragging his knife along his skin, drawing the faintest of lines into him before, seemingly without prompting, digging it into him until he screamed, then pulling it out and doodling again. He’d grown bored with it, towards the end, losing the vigor with which he’d done it before no longer showing up at all.

 The ladies had lasted the longest. Would come down and take out their frustrations, beat on him with a club or their fists and shout and holler and scream as though he were a tree, nonsense he had no interest in but was forced to bear, forced to listen about how ‘Bill is such a pig!’ whack! how ‘John needs to act like a goddamn father!’ crunch! about how ‘You men can do some of your own damn laundry!’ (Jackson had broken his nose, then)

 And then no one had showed up to feed him one feeding.

 Then two.

 Then three, and he’d realized he was fucked.

 He’d nearly broken his neck trying to twist so he could get to the rope around his neck, had shredded his gums 'til he choked on the blood trying to chew through his gag, but finally all he could do was slump against it, shouting and pleading against the rag in his mouth, but no one ever came.

“Sir,” Milton woke up, some weeks later, to a young Pinkerton agent knocking on his door, so pale he nearly offered him a chair for fear of him collapsing, “I think you need to see this.”

 He led him out the door, swaying on his feet as he kept a large distance from a massive box which, even from where Milton stood, he could make out his name scrawled on it. The man drew his gun, approaching warily, and jumped back after opening in some parts alarm and wariness—

 a tanned hide of a sort he’d never seen before sat inside, folded on itself as it hadn’t enough room to be fully stretched out, RAT branded meticulously atop the torso. A collection of limbs - half-limbs, a foot there, a half a leg there, half an arm here, a handless arm there - was piled beneath it and, to his horror, a tanned head was stitched to the hide, face twisted in agony, something rolled and sticking out of the mouth, a familiar white hat sat atop straw-like blond hair.

 He neared, fighting down bile, aiming his gun at the ratsnake that had been coiled around his hat before realizing it long dead, carefully tugging the papers - no, photographs? - out of the man’s mouth and nearly taking the head with it, straining the stitching—

  Him, handing over a clip of money to Bell

  Van Der Linde’s bounty poster, next to Bell’s coat

  His wife, brushing her horse

  Edgar’s family, sitting at the riverside

 Milton roared, grabbing the hide’s head and chucking it as far as it would go, the hide unfolding and flying along like some macabre kite, half-rotted limbs scattering every which way.

[fangirl-ramblings]

hey friend, could i get a drabble of "well, it’s the thought that counts" with bill?

Why of course my new friend.😊

📷 Photo Credit: @the-neigh-sayer

Pairing: Bill Williamson x reader

Summary: Bill gives you a gift, but where did it come from?

Word count: 816

Notes: Fluff

I had to go and make Bill soft again – but don’t worry he’s still the loveable dumbass we all know & love. 

I’m not entirely sure this plot makes sense – but I had fun doing it anyways.

This was written with a female reader in mind, but I’ve (hopefully) tried to make it gender neutral.

It’s The Thought That Counts

A shadow was cast over the pages of your book as Bill stood in front of you. Clearing his throat to get your attention, you rushed to finish reading the page you were on before looking up to meet his gaze.

“Mr. Williamson. What can I do for you?” you smiled sweetly, hiding your annoyance that he had intruded on your peace and quiet. 

“I just saw this…and…er…” he paused, rubbing his arm while his face turned crimson, “I just thought you’d like it” he spat out, quickly placing something on the top of your open page. You looked down to see a stunning silver necklace, adorned with a ruby pendant.

“Oh my gosh, Bill, it’s stunning” Looking up to thank him, you found yourself disappointed that he had already moved away from you, heading to the other side of camp as fast as his legs would take him. Nevertheless you undone the clasp and proudly placed the gift around your neck, tucking the pendant down your shirt as not to draw too much attention to it.

“Any chance you could help me with the laundry?” Tilly asked as she walked back over to your shared tent, “Karen was meant to help, but decided to go into town for drinks instead”

“Drinks? It’s only mid afternoon. But then again why am I surprised?” you commented as you moved over to the washing tub. Starting off by picking up a dirty item of clothing you leaned over the bowl of water and got to work, making idle chatter with your friend. As you vigorously scrubbed one of the men’s muddy shirts you heard something splash into the dirty water.

“What was that?” Tilly asked fishing the offending item out. Clutching your chest, only to realise it was no longer there, you recognised your gift from Bill was now sitting in the palm of the hand of your friend.

“Ain’t it pretty?” you gushed “It seems I have an admirer.” You reached out to take it back from her, but she quickly pulled her hand away.

“Who?” she teased with a hint of bother in her voice.

“Now that would be telling wouldn’t it? Now come on & hand it back over.”

“It’s just that I stole a necklace, that looked exactly like this one right here, not two days ago from some stuck up woman in Saint Denis,” she looked over the item, “but I put it straight in the donations box.”

You both looked at each other and quickly read the other’s mind. In a flash, you both stood up from your chores and chasing her you ran towards Dutch’s tent. Tilly opened the ledger and showed where she had filled in the details of her haul, while you opened the tin to find money & various items inside  – but no silver necklace.

“Looks like whoever’s sweet on you is also a thief”

“You can talk, you just admitted that you stole it in the first place” you scowled yanking the necklace from her hands.

“That’s different, that old bat deserved it” Tilly protested snatching it back “So come on, who gave it to you?”

After a moment of silence you reluctantly whispered his name. “It was Bill, but maybe he had a good reason?” you pleaded as she marched over to the campfire where he was sitting alongside Javier & John, enjoying a beer.

“Bill Williamson, you pathetic man” The other two men turned to face Tilly, wondering why she was so riled up.

“What? I-I ain’t done nothing” he stuttered as she held the piece of jewellery in front of him.

“You didn’t steal this from the box?”

“No…I…” he clammed up, unable to defend himself.

“Everybody knows you don’t steal from family” she yelled, throwing the necklace straight at him before marching back her pile of laundry.

“Well…I….didn’t steal it,” he turned to look at the disappointment in your eyes “I’d paid for it...I swapped it for money – honest I did”

“Williamson you’re such a dumbass,” John snickered “What did you even want with it anyway?”

“I mean did you think the red jewel would bring out the colour of your eyes? Because you’re sorely mistaken mi amigo,” Javier ribbed him “An emerald is better suited for your complexion”

“Shut up, just shut up the pair of you” he growled rising from his seat, storming past you as he headed towards his tent. After tutting in disgust at his so-called friends, you walked over to the tent & sat next to him on his bedroll.

“Well I can’t say that was one of your better thought out ideas” you told him taking hold of his hand “But, I suppose, it’s the thought that counts isn’t it? And it was a very lovely thought indeed” You patted his hand and softly kissed his cheek before leaving to rejoin Tilly and her chores.

[adrienbrodyfansite]

“A LOVE LETTER TO JOURNALISTS”

There has been a lot of hype surrounding Wes Anderson’s upcoming film, The French Dispatch. The quirky six-time Oscar nominee and artistic genius has made nine successful films in the past, and now his 10th (and hopefully not last) is set to arrive in 2020.

Known to wow audiences with stunning visuals, satisfying symmetry, heartwarming musical soundtracks and iconic mis en scénes, Anderson’s attention to detail is bound to make the flick a success. Here’s everything we know about it so far.

Adrien Brody, and from left, Wes Anderson and Owen Wilson are seen at FOX’s 72nd annual Golden Globe Awards Party at the Beverly Hilton Hotel on Sunday, Jan. 11, 2015, in Beverly Hills, Calif. (Photo by Todd Williamson/Invision for Fox Searchlight/AP Images)

Setting

According to reports, The French Dispatch is set in Paris and was filmed in Angouleme (South West France). This actually comes as quite a surprise as the 49-year-old’s projects are hardly ever set in the place he calls home. (Apart from his short film Hotel Chevalier, starring Natalie Portman and Jason Schwartzman as a prologue to The Darjeeling Limited).

A French publication explained that Anderson “fell in love with the old cobbled streets of [Angoulême’s] city centre, and also the ramparts.” Citing a film industry source, they said that Anderson wanted a French city with “unevenness, stairs and preserved architecture.”

Plot

Although the plot is still quite enigmatic, we know that The French Dispatch is “a love letter to journalists set at an outpost of an American newspaper in 20th century Paris [that] centers on three storylines.” IMDB is calling it a comedy, drama and romance and the post-World War II film was rumoured to be a musical, but Wes Anderson denied it before filming began.

Jeffrey Wright mentioned in a podcast interview that he’s excited to be part of Wes Anderson’s new film and however not being able to talk about it yet, he described it as “ironic.”

Cast

Speaking of Jeffrey Wright, this leads us to the cast – one of which is arguably Wes Anderson’s best, full of Hollywood stars old and new.

The film’s ensemble consists of the regulars, Bill Murray, Owen Wilson, Adrien Brody, Jason Schwartzman, Frances McDormand, Tilda Swinton and Bob Balaban. Newcomers Timothee Chalamet (Call me by Your Name), Jeffrey Wright, Saoirse Ronan (Mary Queen of Scotts), Léa Seydoux (Blue is the Warmest Colour) Kate Winslet, Benicio Del Toro, Louis Smith, Alex Lawther (The End of the F***ing World) and Henry Winkler also join the cast.

In a recent interview, Ronan said “Wes Anderson throws very lovely dinners at the end of every shoot each day.” A dinner will all those incredible people? Definitely a film buff’s wet dream.

Production

Anderson produced The French Dispatch alongside Scott Rudin, Jeremy Dawson and billionaire financier Steven Rales through Rales’ Indian Paintbrush.

The company has backed the past five critically acclaimed Anderson films, The Darjeeling Limited, Fantastic Mr. Fox, Moonrise Kingdom, The Grand Budapest Hotel and Isle of Dogs.

It is likely that the distributor will be the usual, Fox Searchlight, while the cinematographer on board is Robert Yeoman, who has collaborated with Anderson in the past and has many nominations including for Academy Award for Best Cinematography.

Release Date

Photography began in November 2018 and filming just came to a close in March 2019, so we can expect the movie to be released sometime in 2020.

Source:

IMDb

GQ

Everything You Need To Know About Wes Anderson’s New Flick The French Dispatch. "A LOVE LETTER TO JOURNALISTS" There has been a lot of hype surrounding Wes Anderson’s upcoming film, The French Dispatch.

[miguel-owhora]

thinking about bill williamson and how pretty he'd look all red and flushed, pretty pink color spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, swimming down to the rest of his body like the ripples of a lake. how stunning he'd look underneath you, plush body out on display with not an article of clothing to hide such beauty away from you.

fat spills from his belly and from his thighs, stretch marks all over like the unique and stunning stripes of a large tiger, only rivaled by the season old scars and the hair that litters his body; so thick and plush, it reminds you of a bear. because that's what bill is, isn't he? a large, burly, strong bear in need of some good loving.

kissing him so nicely he can't help but squirm underneath you, each sound that slips from his mouth - whether it be a groan or a breathless moan - has him growing even more flustered, and though embarrassed, can't find it in himself to stop nor push you away. though the thought does cross his mind when your hands, calloused and scarred over, gently open his thighs, he doesn't shy away.

well, doesn't try to stop you. he does, however, look away, biting his bottom lip and sending you a flustered smile with hazy eyes when the spreading of his thighs reveals his pussy.

just like the rest of his body, his cunt is flushed, fat, and hairy. his fat lips are pinned by his fat thighs, the hair on his inner thicker, thickening and darkening as it spreads to his cunt, like the barrier of a pretty garden. his cunt glistens with slick, cock swollen and throbbing.

both his cock and bill himself twitch when you circle his cock with your thumb, spreading his lips open and watching, mesmerized, as he slowly grools. he looks so pretty, flushed and wet and fat and plush, all for you, staring at you with round eyes, unbelievably flustered and needy.

[imladris-soldier]

Lashes (pt 15)

Bill Williamson is a racist asshole. Everyone knows it. They just punch him and go on about their day. When a Lakota woman joins the gang, everyone expects things to go on as normal, slurs and all, and for a time, it does. But her curiosity gets the better of her, and she finds that hatred is something learned - which means it can be unlearned, if given time, care, and patience. And she has plenty of those… the first two, anyway.

Bill Williamson x OC

Days passed in the swamp as Dutch investigated potential leads for money in the nearby, abhorred city of Saint Denis. Apparently, Angelo Bronte had turned out to be in some way a friend to the gang instead of an enemy. Getting Jack back hadn't been nearly as difficult as they had anticipated. Things were looking up. Again. Why then did it feel so... off?

Things only got stranger one afternoon when Bill and Hosea approached Star with ever so slightly nervous expressions. She looked up from where she was sharpening her knife, taking in both of their looks before sitting back and crossing her arms over her chest. “What?”

“We've got a favor to ask,” Hosea began, voice chipper but unsure.

“Ok.”

“So, Dutch has accepted some invitations to a party in the city. At the Mayor's house, apparently. Mr. Bronte invited us.”

“Uh huh.”

“Dutch wants to bring along a woman who can get into circles that us men can't. To help us find some leads, see. We was wondering if you might join us.”

“Who's us?”

“Well, me and Bill here. And Dutch and Arthur.”

Star sat there, observing the way her lover wrung his hands slightly and didn't make eye contact. “Why not ask the others? Why me? I'm just going to stick out like a sore thumb. A Lakota in a fancy dress? That's just asking for trouble.”

“I told you she wouldn't want to do it,” Bill admonished.

Hosea turned to him and threw up his hands. “Well maybe if you told her the real reason instead of recruiting me to make things up she'd change her mind!” With that, he walked away, leaving Bill to clean up the fallout of what he'd said.

Star's eyebrow arched, and she simply waited for the truth to spill out. She didn't have to wait long.

“Dutch asked me to go along on this mission,” Bill explained. “Now, I-I-I dunno why. You know me. Ain't exactly the sort for polite society. Don't know a dining fork from a pitchfork. But I... I really wanna impress him, ya know? Show him I can be trusted with these sorts'a things. 'Course, I'd feel better if... well if you was there with me, and Dutch wanted us to bring a woman, so... but I knew you wouldn't want to. Figured you'd find a reason you shouldn't go. So I asked Hosea to ask you. Thought maybe comin' from him it would mean somethin'.”

Star's expression softened considerably as the explanation went on. It was all very Bill, and it broke her heart a little to know how insecure he was about it all – even coming to her and asking for help. “Why didn't you just tell me that?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, staring at his shoes. “Didn't want you to think I was bein' stupid. I dunno.” He shrugged, defeated.

The woman sighed, putting her knife back in her boot before standing and joining him. “Bill, darling, every reason you gave for wanting me along is valid. And I understand why you want to go. I'm just sorry that you felt you had to hide it from me.”

He shook his head. “It ain't nothin' you done. I... I just ain't used to askin' for help. Besides... I wanna be the one protectin' you. Not the other way around.”

Star smiled, taking his hand. “I'm sure there will come a time for that. In the meantime, let me help you. Tell Dutch I'll go. It might be a fiasco, but I'll go.”

“You will?”

“For you? Sure.” She held up a hand. “But, you don't have to tell Dutch that.”

Bill smiled, hooking an arm around her shoulders to pull her in for a kiss to the top of her head. “Thanks. I'll let him know.”

“Guess I better find a dress.”

He chuckled into her hair. “That'll be a sight.”

“Oh yeah? And what about you in a suit?”

His face went slack and slightly white. “Well I... I didn't think'a that.”

Star laughed softly. “Guess you better start thinking about it. See what the others plan to do. Maybe there's a shopping trip in the works.”

“Right. I'll look into it. See you later?”

“Of course.”

They part ways and went about the business of the camp. Dutch found Star later in the day and confirmed with her what Bill had told him. He seemed surprised that she was willing to go, naming some of the same concerns she had mentioned, but it was easy enough to lie to him, though perhaps they were simply misdirections. “I want to see this city at least once before we leave. It's probably the only chance I'm going to get to attend something like this. Just want to help out the gang.”

A shopping trip was, in fact, planned for the evening of the event, and the party-goers rode off together to attend to it. Star, for her part, was a bundle of nerves. She didn't want to see the faces of the city folk when she walked into the tailor's looking for a fancy dress. Too often she'd watched noses curl up in barely hidden disgust just because she existed, and that had been in towns like Valentine with no delusions of being high-brow. But, this was for Bill's sake, not her own, and that made it easier.

When Saint Denis appeared on the horizon, Dutch rode even with Star and asked, “Well? What do you think of this peak of civilization?”

The cluster of ugly buildings belched out black clouds of smoke. The waters around it were filled with boats, coming and going. The smell that it added to the already pungent marshland scent was... overwhelming.

“This is a city? It seems more like an architectural pustule.”

Dutch chuckled deeply. “My thoughts exactly. There's still time to turn back.”

“That would not be very brave of me.”

“Between you and me, I might not be feelin' so brave myself.”

They shared a smile, then fell quiet for the rest of the ride.

Hosea led the way to the tailor. Star was tempted to look around at all the people and the buildings, but there were so many people and buildings that riding distracted in any way might prove perilous. Instead, she kept her eyes on Hosea and tried to follow his movements precisely. Rhiannon tossed her head nervously, especially when a clanging vehicle of some sort went by on tracks in the road.

Bill positioned himself and Brown Jack to be between Star, Rhiannon, and the tracks to shield them from any other passing trolleys, casting a concerned glance their direction, but saying nothing. Star felt better having him there.

When the group finally arrived at their destination, Star dismounted and moved quickly to Bill's side. She could already feel the looks – the gazes that screamed you don't belong here. Still, one thing that she hadn't anticipated was the variations of color the city would hold. Though she had yet to see anyone that looked like her, there were many who looked like Lenny and Tilly and Javier. Knowing that was a small comfort.

Dutch led the way into the store, announcing their presence with his charming, booming voice, and in moments, they were all being ushered away to be fitted for something appropriate. Star was loathe to be parted from the men, but decency demanded it, so she followed behind the assistant girl obediently. The girl was kind enough, asking what event they were going to, then proceeding to swoon about it. As she showed Star into a small room, she smiled and said the tailor would be with her shortly.

Star sat on a chair in the middle of the room, trying not to allow her anxieties to get the better of her. These were the sorts of things women did all the time. The tailor would not think it odd, so neither should she.

It took perhaps ten minutes for the tailor to join her, and the man was immediately pleasant. He asked what sort of styles she liked, and when she stared at him in stunned silence, he just laughed and said they would try them all. So they did.

It took time, but eventually the tailor made Star believe that she looked nice in a deep green evening gown. The chest was cut in a square shape, exposing a great deal of her skin, but the frilly shoulders kept the dress secure. The fabric pinched close at the waist before flaring out in the skirt that dragged the ground slightly. There were sewn embellishments on the skirt in a flowing pattern, adding a bit of elegance to an otherwise fairly simple dress.

“There now,” the tailor murmured as she emerged from behind the dressing wall. “Don't we look lovely?”

Star looked at herself in the mirror, unable to reconcile her understanding of herself with the image before her. While it wasn't a look she intended to maintain, she was not unhappy with it. “Thank you, sir,” she said quietly, swirling the skirt around her legs a bit. “I believe this will suit me fine.”

She took a moment to braid her hair, then followed the tailor back out to the main room. The men had already finished, and they stood in a small group looking far more dapper than she'd ever thought to see them. Something about the absurdity of it all caused a giddiness to bubble in her chest, and she laughed to herself.

The laugh drew the attention of the men, and they all gaped, but none quite so much as Bill. Star shuffled forward, still unaccustomed to the length of the gown and the shoes that went with it. “Well?” she asked.

Dutch took her gloved hand and brought it to his lips in a sweeping gesture. “I have never seen somethin' so lovely in all my life,” he answered.

Hosea laughed and shooed him away. “You'll make the girl blush, Dutch.”

“Oh, but I am tryin',” he chuckled.

“Ya look real pretty, Star,” Arthur said with a kind smile. “Like a real lady.”

“Oh, I wouldn't go that far,” Star laughed softly. “But something sort of close, maybe.”

After paying for the wares, Dutch, Arthur, and Hosea made their way outside to wait for the coach that Dutch had 'hired' – conveniently driven by Lenny. The details of that particular heist had not been explained to Star, but she found it highly amusing regardless.

Bill stayed where he was, staring. It was his attentions that made Star blush, brown eyes falling to her feet. “So?” she asked.

“You... yer gorgeous,” he breathed.

Her eyes came back to him, sparkling from the compliment. He'd slicked his hair back, and the suit he'd donned fit him just right. One could look at the pair and believe for a second that they'd been rich their whole lives.

“You look so good!” she cried, smiling. “Who'd have thought that a little hair pomade and some fancy fabric would turn you into a gentleman?”

He rolled his eyes, but she saw the smile dancing around on his lips as he turned toward the door. “Come on, you.”

They joined the others outside, and it wasn't long before Lenny pulled up on a carriage, dressed to the hilt as well. He winked at them and called, “Did you order a coach, sirs?”

“We surely did!” Dutch replied, opening the door for his friends. “We are going to a party at the mayor's house.”

“I took the liberty of stocking your cabin with some celebratory alcohol. I hope you don't mind.”

Dutch laughed. “My boy, you are ever so resourceful.”

They all climbed in, and Star sat herself between Bill and Hosea, accepting the glass of champagne that Dutch held out to her. The boys were quicker about their consumption and soon got to laughing uncontrollably about some story or another. Star was mostly laughing at them under the guise of laughing with them, but the mood in the coach was just so undeniably jovial.

“I ain't never been to a ball,” Arthur laughed.

“Truth be told, neither have I,” Dutch replied.

Hosea waved them off. “I've been to quite a few in my time.” He winked. “Fine pickings.”

“Oh, no, no, no, no. No pickpocketing! We are here to make real contacts.”

“What kind of contacts?” Arthur asked.

“Well, I dunno. We'll find what we can. All I know for sure is we are goin' to a party at the mayor's house, and the guest of honor is the worst crook in town! I am sure that we will find something.”

This led to another round of guffaws that Star waited out before speaking up. “Boys, we need to decide what my story is.” Confused eyes fell on her, and she went on, “This isn't a party with the gang. This is high society, and I... I don't fit the mold.”

“And you think we do?” Arthur replied.

She smiled and shook her head. “That's not what I mean. Arthur, I'm Lakota. You boys are not. You might be a little rough around the edges, but me? They're going to look at me and see nothing but a savage in a dress.”

And just like that, she landed on an idea.

“Which is... exactly what we're going to let them see.”

Dutch, canted his head slightly. “I don't follow.”

“During many of the military actions against my people, women were taken against their will to be the wives of soldiers. Or, more accurately, slaves. A tamed jewel on their arm as a mark of their victories. I'm sure Saint Denis has its share of such men. Bill was army. Let me play his spoil of war. It will be cause for less questions, and we could use a few less questions while we're scoping the place for robbery leads.”

“She makes a good point,” Hosea agreed.

Dutch nodded thoughtfully. “You sure you can handle bein' a slave for a night?”

The question was a tease, but there was an underlying truth to it. “For a night, sure.”

“Fine. Then that's what we'll do. You keep at Bill's side and see what you can find out. If you're nothin' more than a jewel, well... what harm could you be?” A slightly sinister smile spread over his face. “Ears and eyes open, madam.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied with a nod.

The carriage pulled up in front of the mayor's house, and they all loaded out. Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur went out the side facing the house while Bill and Star went out the opposite door. Once the pair were standing with the coach between them and everything else, Bill caught her elbow and pulled her close to murmur, “I... I don't wanna treat you like a slave.”

“It's just an act,” she replied, pulling up her elbow-length gloves. “Unless you plan on answering to every horse's ass in there who wants to know why you're an Indian lover.”

“Well...”

“You're not, alright? As long as we are here, I am nothing more than an object. You won me. You killed my family and took me from my home to show off to the world. And you have to treat me that way.”

The man seemed confused and slightly hurt by it all, but he just nodded, offering the crook of his elbow for her to put her arm through. She did so, took a deep breath, and then allowed her shoulders to sag ever so slightly. Her eyes fell to the ground, and she tried to convince herself that the man at her side had broken her will. It was not easy.

They walked around the carriage to join the others. The doorman confiscated their weapons, accepted their invitations, then led them through the house. Dutch and Arthur were ushered up the stairs to meet with Bronte while Hosea, Bill, and Star were led out to the back porch to await their friends.

Though she avoided eye contact with everyone, Star allowed her gaze to sweep over the house and the party. Everything was glittering and dancing in the soft warmth of evening. Had the company been different, it might have been a pleasant party. Though, what did she know of such things?

Men and women mingled in small groups on the lawn, talking of stock prices and industry. It was like a foreign tongue, and Star was not sure what to make of it. Where there was industry, there was money, but how did one steal stock?

Before too long, Dutch and Arthur reappeared. There was a tension radiating from Dutch that couldn't be placed, but it made Star slightly uneasy. Whatever had been said with Bronte had riled him.

“Ok,” he murmured. “Arthur, go find the mayor, if you can. Stay outta trouble, and steal nothin' unless it's information.”

“Got it.”

Arthur jogged down the stairs and joined the party as Dutch turned to the rest. “Hosea, you go find us some place to rob.”

“On it.”

“Bill, Bronte pointed out some military men off that'a way. Go see if you can warm up to 'em. Make us some new friends if you can.”

“I... right. Ok.”

“Star...” He paused and gave her a tiny smile. “Keep your mouth shut and your head down. See what you can overhear.”

She nodded, avoiding his gaze and stepping closer to Bill. Dutch chuckled. “Atta girl. I'm gonna find out if Cornwall and what's-his-name, Milton, know we're here.”

They split up. Bill meandered in the direction Dutch had indicated, though his steps were hesitant. Star mentally begged him to find some confidence, even if it was contrived. “Just pretend you're the biggest honcho in the army,” she whispered. “Use enough truth that it sounds believable, but embellish a little bit.”

“I don't know what that means,” he hissed back.

It was too late to worry about it as they had come up on the officers and their wives. Bill cleared his throat awkwardly and greeted, “Good evenin', gentlemen! Ladies.”

They turned, appraising the pair down their noses. “And who might you be?” one of the men asked.

“Well, I'm... Sergeant Bill Martin. 7th Cavalry, D Troop.”

“Ah!” the man cried, smiling. “A Garryowen! Come, join us!” Bill and Star joined the circle as the man went on, “Knew a few fellas in the 7th. All of 'em were fine, upstandin' men. How long you serve, Sergeant?”

“Near about seven years. Yourself?”

“Oh, I'm a career man. Never have left!” He laughed.

The conversation wandered off into military logistics and talk of commanders and other things that Star knew nothing about. Bill seemed to keep up with it, so she chose to listen to the conversations happening around them instead. At least until her presence was brought into the spotlight.

“I don't believe you've introduced your companion, sir,” one of the wives practically sneered.

“Oh, her? This is... well I don't quite remember what her name was before I found her. She-she answers to Abigail now. Proper, Christian name.

“Nice to meet you, Abigail,” the woman replied.

Star bowed her head slightly and mumbled a greeting, only to be nudged hard by Bill who pressed, “Speak so everyone can hear ya.”

“Nice to meet you, ma'am,” Star repeated, louder.

That seemed to satisfy the crowd, and she was allowed to slip into obscurity once more, though they went on talking about her as if she wasn't there.

“Where'd you find that one, Sergeant?” one of the men asked. “I'd heard of men taking prairie trophies, but I'd not yet seen one in the flesh.”

Bill glanced at her, then answered, “Caught her fleein' from Wounded Knee.”

Star's insides twisted up, but she couldn't fault him. Enough truth to make it believable.

“Ran her down, trussed her up, took her home. I like to-to-to bring her out for parties like this. Reminds us all what we're fightin' for out there. Taming the wilds, as it were.”

“Well, I sure never thought to see one in an evening gown.”

“Right,” Bill laughed. “You, go get me a drink.”

He shoved Star off slightly, and she hurried to do as told, silently thanking him for finding an excuse to free her from the verbal assault. Though it was mostly as she had expected, it still stung and riled her all the same. Bill had fallen into his role well which only made it worse. She didn't believe he meant of word of it, but it was just a little too close to the man he had been when they met. For a second she could almost imagine that he'd never changed at all, and it was a terrifying thing to think of.

She stood at the drink table, pouring a glass of punch and taking a moment for herself. Much to her surprise, she was joined by a man she recognized – one she had never thought to see again.

“Eagle Flies?” she asked, leaning to catch his gaze.

He looked like he was going to be hostile for a moment, but when he registered her identity, shock replaced every other emotion. “Wicapiwakan? What...? How have you come to be here?”

“It's a... very long story. And you?”

“My father is here petitioning the mayor on behalf of our tribe. They seek to move us again.”

“Again? Have the Wapiti not suffered enough?”

“A sentiment we share, though I do not see what talking will gain us. This will lead to war.”

Though that revelation troubled her, it made her smile slightly as well. “That sounds like the man who massacred a camp full of army men for the deaths of a few Lakota. Without which I would not be here.”

“Yes. What became of you after we freed you that night?”

“I fell in with a gang of outlaws and have been living with them. It's been a trying road, though not without its benefits.”

He smirked, his eyes slipping up and down her figure. “I take it these outlaws bought you your fine dress?”

She rolled her eyes. “We are here on business and had to look the part.”

“No matter what you and I wear... we will never look the part, my friend.”

It was true. Horrid, but true. And evidence of that truth was marching through the crowd in their direction.

Star saw Bill coming only a few seconds before he arrived. She quickly looked over at her friend and hissed, “Whatever is about to happen, I must ask that you play along.”

“I don't understand.”

“Please. Just do as I say.”

Bill lumbered up, his entire body language suggesting rage, but his voice suggesting panic. “They saw ya over here talkin' to this fella and they sent me to deal with ya. What do I do?”

Eagle Flies stared in confusion while Star's eyes went over Bill's shoulder to the group he'd left. They were all waiting expectantly for her to be put back into her place. “Well, we've already been speaking too long. They'll assume I'm talking back.”

“What is this game you're playing?” Eagle Flies murmured, casting a suspicious glance at Bill. “Do you need help?”

“No, my friend. We are pretending to be something we are not in the hopes of gaining information. Please believe that, as what is about to happen is not going to be pleasant. Bill, hit me.”

“Wh... what?” Bill stammered. “Why?”

“You've well established yourself as a violent man to them, and they're expecting a show. I've already spent too long defying you. Hit me.”

“No. I'm not gonna...”

“I swear to god, Bill, if you do not hit me everything is going to fall apart. Do you want Dutch to be disappointed again?”

“N-no. But I can't...”

“You can. Eagle Flies, where are you and your father staying? I will seek you out again.”

“We have a meeting with a city counselor in two days on High Street. Meet us there. Perhaps you can talk some sense into my father.”

“I will. Now, Bill, god damn it.”

It seemed to take every single ounce of will in Bill's body to do it, but he backhanded Star clean across the face. It was a good hit. The sound of skin against skin caused the surrounding crowd to gasp and murmur, but when they saw the situation, most were content to ignore it. Eagle Flies recoiled, staring in shock and confusion, but then he slipped away into the crowd.

Bill grabbed Star's elbow and dragged her back to the military men and their wives. “Forgive me, gentlemen,” he said when they arrived. “Seems she still thinks she can talk to me like she ain't the dirt on my boots.”

“No apologies necessary, Sergeant. You've done the right thing.”

They talked a little while longer, and Star stood, staring at her feet as blood trickled down her chin from her busted lip. The act was beginning to be too much, and she hadn't even found anything of use for Dutch. Though, running into Eagle Flies presented another concern entirely. It had been a long time since she had worried about anything outside of the gang, but now...

When the fireworks started, the crowd immediately became enamored, turning to face the sparkling expanse of sky. In that moment of distraction, Bill took Star's elbow and pulled her away, through some bushes to a secluded section of garden.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I can't do it no more,” he answered. “I ain't gonna stand there and listen to them talk about ya like that.” He reached up to brush away the tendril of blood from her mouth. “I... I fuckin' hit ya. Yer bleedin'. And for what?”

“To be fair, I didn't give you much choice.”

“I ain't doin' it. We're gonna go back to the house and wait for the others. I don't care what Dutch says.”

It was almost as if he'd hit her again. “You don't?”

“No. Arthur and Hosea'll find somethin'. Ain't no reason for you to suffer like this for a score. Or me, for that matter.”

She looked up, amused. “You?”

“What, you think I like hittin' you? You think I like pretending that you ain't the most valuable thing I ever had? Well, I don't. All these... these high society, high'n'mighty pigeon shits can fuck off and die.”

Star grabbed his suit jacket and pulled him in for a kiss, despite the pain it caused her lip. “Remind me never to doubt your acting abilities again.”

He snorted. “Yeah. Sign me up for the next stage production of Bullshit and the Company it Keeps.”

She broke into laughter. “Come on, then. Let's go.”

The pair made their way back to the house using as hidden a path as they could manage. Dutch was standing on the back porch, so instead of finding anywhere to linger, they joined him. “Find anything?” he asked.

“No,” Star replied, eyes sweeping the party once more. “Lots of idle gossip. Some interesting racism. That's about it.”

Dutch eyes fell on her lip and then passed between the two of them. “What happened?”

“Just playing our parts.”

Arthur emerged from the house behind them, patting his chest pocket which made Dutch chuckle. Hosea came jogging up the stairs with a grin. “Gentlemen and lady, I believe we are done here,” he said.

“You got somethin'?”

“Oh, just a bit of somethin'.”

It made Star feel better knowing that it had not all been in vain. Even Bill seemed to have relaxed slightly.

“Good work. All of ya,” Dutch said as he led the way out. “What'd you find out, Hosea?”

“Well, there's plenty of money moves through here, of course, and I think I found out how we can grab some of it. A big bank. A real one. But not yet.”

“A city bank?”

“Maybe. And a stuffed one. If we're gonna leave, that could be the one thing we need.”

“There's also that trolley car station that Signor Bronte told us about, and I heard somethin' about a high stakes poker game.”

They emerged out the front door and made their way to collect their weapons. As they did so, Lenny pulled up with the carriage. “Alright, let's go home,” Dutch sighed, climbing in.

They all piled in, significantly more weary and quiet than when they had arrived. When she was finally sitting down, Star heaved a relieved sigh and leaned over against Bill. He put an arm around her, holding her close to him. To her surprise, he was the first to speak once they were underway.

“I ain't ever felt so awkward in all my life,” he said. “All those folk so pleased with themselves. Everybody thinkin' they're better'n everybody else. If you ask me, it's more like torture!”

Dutch nodded. “Well, that's sort of the point, isn't it: let the people torture themselves.”

“Here's them papers I took,” Arthur said, pulling them from his jacket pocket and handing them to Dutch.

“Anybody see you take this?”

“I don't think so.”

“Hm. I might have an idea. Let me think on it.”

The rest of the ride back to Shady Belle was silent.

[sserpicko]

Announcing Winners WGA Awards 2019: ‘Can You Ever Forgive Me?,’ ‘Eighth Grade’

In a pair of upsets, “Can You Ever Forgive Me?” has won the Writers Guild of America’s adapted screenplay award for Nicole Holofcener and Jeff Whitty and Bo Burnham has won the original screenplay award for “Eighth Grade.”

The major television trophies went to “The Americans,” “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel,” “Homeland” and “Barry” for the 71st Writers Guild Awards, held at dual ceremonies at the Beverly Hilton in Beverly Hills, Calif., and the Edison Ballroom in New York City. It was the last major awards show before the Feb. 24 Academy Awards.

“Can You Ever Forgive Me?,” based on the memoir of the late Lee Israel, topped the screenplays for “Black Panther,” “If Beale Street Could Talk” “A Star Is Born”; and “BlacKkKlansman.” Though the script for the comedy-drama — the story of how Israel discovered her talent for forgery — has received an Oscar nomination, “Beale Street” and “BlacKkKlansman” were regarded as the front-runners. It appears that the tale of the travails and redemption of a professional writer clearly resonated with Hollywood writers.

“I want to thank Lee,” Holofcener said in her acceptance. “She’d probably be sitting in the room judging all of us. She though she was the smartest person in the room and she probably was.”

A stunned Burnham credited star Elsie Fisher for his winning the WGA award. Burnham won over Alfonso Cuaron’s “Roma”; Adam McKay’s “Vice”; Bryan Woods, Scott Beck, and John Krasinski’s “A Quiet Place”; and Peter Farrelly, Nick Vallelonga, and Brian Currie’s “Green Book.” “Roma,” “Vice” and “Green Book” are all nominated for Academy Awards along with “The Favourite” and “First Reformed” while “Eight Grade” did not receive an Oscar nod.

“Eighth Grade,” which stars Fisher as an awkward teen dealing with the final week of eighth grade, also won the first-time Directors Guild of America Award for Burnham on Feb. 2. The film is also up for four Spirit Awards on Feb. 23.

“To the other nominees in the category — Have fun at the Oscars, losers!” Burnham joked in his acceptance. “No, I prepared nothing. This all belongs to Elsie Fisher who performed the script. No one would care about the script if she hadn’t done it.”

“Eighth Grade” is the first film to win the WGA Original Screenplay award without being nominated for an Academy since Michael Moore’s “Bowling for Columbine” in 2003.

“The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel” won the comedy series award for Kate Fodor, Noah Gardenswartz, Jen Kirkman, Sheila Lawrence, Daniel Palladino and Amy Sherman Palladino. Starring Rachel Brosnahan, “Mrs. Maisel” won the Emmy for best comedy series last year.

The final season of “The Americans” took the drama series award for Peter Ackerman, Hilary Bettis, Joshua Brand, Joel Fields, Sarah Nolen, Stephen Schiff, Justin Weinberger, Joe Weisberg and Tracey Scott Wilson.

Bill Hader and Alec Berg won the episodic comedy award for the opening segment of HBO’s “Barry,” “Chapter One: Make Your Mark” (“Barry”). They also won the new series award.

Stephanie Gillis won the animated award for the “Bart’s Not Dead” episode of “The Simpsons” — which was just renewed for its 31st and 32nd seasons by Fox — and showrunner Alex Gansa took the episodic drama award for the “Paean To The People” segment of “Homeland.” “Bathtubs Over Broadway” took the documentary award and “God of War” won the videogame trophy.

Hulu’s “Castle Rock” won the long-form original award and “The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story” took the adapted long-form trophy. “Last Week Tonight with John Oliver” won the comedy-variety series cagtegory.

Chelsea Peretti hosted the West Coast ceremonies while Roy Wood Jr. was the emcee in New York. “All the glitz and glamor of the Oscars without the pressure of public interest,” Peretti said in her intro.

Jordan Peele’s horror-comedy “Get Out” won the WGA Award for original screenplay and James Ivory’s coming-of-age drama “Call Me by Your Name” won for adapted screenplay last year. Both went on to win the Oscar.

The WGA awards are mixed indicator of Oscar sentiment. Six of the last 10 WGA winners have gone on to win Academy awards over the past five years. The awards are decided in voting by the 17,000 members of the WGA.

The West Coast ceremonies included plenty of political commentary. Adam McKay, on receiving the WGA’s Paul Selvin Award for “Vice,” asked for a “beat of silence” for the million people who died during the invasion of Iraq.

Jenji Kohan, recipient of the Paddy Chayefsky Award, was unable to attend due to having to shoot the final episode of “Orange Is the New Black.” She said in a taped message: “I’ve been incredibly lucky to work with enormously funny and kind people. I love the people I work with. Life is too short to work with a******s, by the way. That’s my Public Service Announcement.”

Here are the nominees with the winners in boldface:

ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY

“Eighth Grade,” Written by Bo Burnham; A24  (WINNER)

“Green Book,” Written by Nick Vallelonga & Brian Currie & Peter Farrelly; Universal Pictures

“A Quiet Place,” Screenplay by Bryan Woods & Scott Beck and John Krasinski, Story by Bryan Woods & Scott Beck; Paramount Pictures

“Roma,” Written by Alfonso Cuarón; Netflix

“Vice,” Written by Adam McKay; Annapurna Pictures

ADAPTED SCREENPLAY

“BlacKkKlansman,” Written by Charlie Wachtel & David Rabinowitz and Kevin Willmott & Spike Lee, Based on the book by Ron Stallworth; Focus Features

“Black Panther,” Written by Ryan Coogler & Joe Robert Cole, Based on the Marvel Comics by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby; Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures

“Can You Ever Forgive Me?,” Screenplay by Nicole Holofcener and Jeff Whitty, Based on the book by Lee Israel; Fox Searchlight  (WINNER)

“If Beale Street Could Talk,” Screenplay by Barry Jenkins, Based on the novel by James Baldwin; Annapurna Pictures

“A Star is Born,” Screenplay by Eric Roth and Bradley Cooper & Will Fetters, Based on the 1954 screenplay by Moss Hart and the 1976 screenplay by John Gregory Dunne & Joan Didion and Frank Pierson, Based on a story by William Wellman and Robert Carson; Warner Bros.

DOCUMENTARY SCREENPLAY

“Bathtubs Over Broadway,” Written by Ozzy Inguanzo & Dava Whisenant; Focus Features  (WINNER)

“Fahrenheit 11/9,” Written by Michael Moore; Briarcliff Entertainment

“Generation Wealth,” Written by Lauren Greenfield; Amazon Studios

“In Search of Greatness,” Written by Gabe Polsky; Art of Sport

VIDEO GAME WRITING

“Assassin’s Creed Odyssey,” Associate Narrative Directors Matthew Zagurak, Joel Janisse, James Richard Mittag; Narrative Director Melissa MacCoubrey; Story by Jonathan Dumont, Melissa MacCoubrey, Hugo Giard; Scriptwriters Madeleine Hart, Betty Robertson, Jesse Scoble, Diana Sherman, Kelly Bender, Jojo Chia, Ian Fun, Zachary M. Parris, Ken Williamson, Daniel Bingham, Jordan Lemos, Simon Mackenzie, Katelyn MacMullin, Susan Patrick, Alissa Ralph, Stephen Rhodes; Team Lead Writer Sam Gill; AI Writers Jonathan Flieger, Kimberly Ann Sparks; Ubisoft Quebec

“Batman: The Enemy Within,” Episode 5-Same Stitch, Lead Writer James Windeler; Written by Meghan Thornton, Ross Beeley, Lauren Mee; Story by Meghan Thornton, Michael Kirkbride; Telltale Games

“God of War,” Written by Matt Sophos, Richard Zangrande Gaubert, Cory Barlog; Story and Narrative Design Lead Matt Sophos; Story and Narrative Design Richard Zangrande Gaubert; Narrative Design Orion Walker, Adam Dolin; Sony Interactive Entertainment  (WINNER)

“Marvel’s Spider-Man,” Story Lead Jon Paquette; Writers Benjamin Arfmann, Kelsey Beachum; Co-Written by Christos Gage; Additional Story Contributions by Dan Slott; Insomniac Games & Sony Interactive Entertainment

“Pillars of Eternity II: Deadfire,” Narrative Designers Alex Scokel, Eric Fenstermaker, Kate Dollarhyde, Megan Starks, Olivia Veras, Paul Kirsch; Additional Writing Tony Evans, John Schmautz, Casey Hollingshead, Nitai Poddar; Narrative Design Leads Carrie Patel, Josh Sawyer; Obsidian Entertainment

DRAMA SERIES “The Americans,” Written by Peter Ackerman, Hilary Bettis, Joshua Brand, Joel Fields, Sarah Nolen, Stephen Schiff, Justin Weinberger, Joe Weisberg, Tracey Scott Wilson; FX Networks  (WINNER)

“Better Call Saul,” Written by Ann Cherkis, Vince Gilligan, Peter Gould, Gennifer Hutchison, Heather Marion, Bob Odenkirk, Thomas Schnauz, Gordon Smith, Alison Tatlock; AMC

“The Crown,” Written by Tom Edge, Amy Jenkins, Peter Morgan; Netflix

“The Handmaid’s Tale,” Written by Yahlin Chang, Nina Fiore, Dorothy Fortenberry, John Herrera, Lynn Renee Maxcy, Bruce Miller, Kira Snyder, Eric Tuchman; Hulu

“Succession,” Written by Jesse Armstrong, Simon Blackwell, Jon Brown, Jonathan Glatzer, Anna Jordan, Lucy Prebble, Georgia Pritchett, Tony Roche, Susan Soon He Stanton, Daniel Zelman; HBO

COMEDY SERIES “Atlanta,” Written by Ibra Ake, Donald Glover, Stephen Glover, Taofik Kolade, Jamal Olori, Stefani Robinson, Paul Simms; FX Networks

“Barry,” Written by Alec Berg, Duffy Boudreau, Bill Hader, Emily Heller, Liz Sarnoff, Ben Smith, Sarah Solemani; HBO

“GLOW,” Written by Liz Flahive, Tara Herrmann, Nick Jones, Jenji Kohan, Carly Mensch, Marquita Robinson, Kim Rosenstock, Sascha Rothchild, Rachel Shukert; Netflix

“The Good Place,” Written by Megan Amram, Christopher Encell, Kate Gersten, Cord Jefferson, Andrew Law, Joe Mande, Kassia Miller, Dylan Morgan, Matt Murray, Rae Sanni, Daniel Schofield, Michael Schur, Josh Siegal, Jen Statsky, Tyler Staessle; NBC

“The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel,” Written by Kate Fodor, Noah Gardenswartz, Jen Kirkman, Sheila Lawrence, Daniel Palladino, Amy Sherman Palladino; Prime Video  (WINNER)

NEW SERIES “Barry,” Written by Alec Berg, Duffy Boudreau, Bill Hader, Emily Heller, Liz Sarnoff, Ben Smith, Sarah Solemani; HBO  (WINNER)

“The Haunting of Hill House,” Written by Meredith Averill, Charise Castro Smith, Mike Flanagan, Jeff Howard, Rebecca Leigh Klingel, Scott Kosar, Liz Phang; Netflix

“Homecoming,” Written by Micah Bloomberg, Cami Delavigne, Eli Horowitz, Shannon Houston, Eric Simonson, David Wiener; Prime Video

“Pose,” Written by Steven Canals, Brad Falchuk, Todd Kubrak, Janet Mock, Ryan Murphy, Our Lady J; FX Networks

“Succession,” Written by Jesse Armstrong, Simon Blackwell, Jon Brown, Jonathan Glatzer, Anna Jordan, Lucy Prebble, Georgia Pritchett, Tony Roche, Susan Soon He Stanton, Daniel Zelman; HBO

LONG FORM ORIGINAL “Castle Rock,” Writers: Marc Bernardin, Scott Brown, Lila Byock, Mark Lafferty, Sam Shaw, Dustin Thomason, Gina Welch, Vinnie Wilhelm; Hulu   (WINNER)

“My Dinner with Hervé,” Teleplay by Sacha Gervasi, Story by Sacha Gervasi & Sean Macaulay; HBO

“Paterno,” Written by Debora Cahn and John C. Richards; HBO

LONG FORM ADAPTED “The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story,” Writers: Maggie Cohn, Tom Rob Smith, Based on the book Vulgar Favors by Maureen Orth; FX Networks  (WINNER)

“The Looming Tower,” Writers: Bash Doran, Dan Futterman, Alex Gibney, Shannon Houston, Adam Rapp, Ali Selim, Lawrence Wright, Based on the book The Looming Tower by Lawrence Wright; Hulu

“Maniac,” Writers: Nick Cuse, Cary Joji Fukunaga, Amelia Gray, Danielle Henderson, Mauricio Katz, Patrick Somerville, Caroline Williams, Based on the Norwegian television series Maniac by Espen PA Lervaag, Håakon Bast Mossige, Kjetil Indregard and Ole Marius Araldsen; Netflix

“Sharp Objects,” Writers: Ariella Blejer, Scott Brown, Vince Calandra, Gillian Flynn, Dawn Kamoche, Alex Metcalf, Marti Noxon, Based upon the book written by Gillian Flynn; HBO

SHORT FORM NEW MEDIA ORIGINAL “After Forever,” Written by Michael Slade & Kevin Spirtas; Vimeo.com

“Class of Lies,” Written by Tessa Leigh Williams; Snapchat    (WINNER)

“Love Daily,” Written by: Lauren Ciaravalli, Andrew Eisen, Aaron Eisenberg, Will Eisenberg, Alexis Jacknow, Nathaniel Katzman, Yulin Kuang, Nathan Larkin-Connolly, Alexis Roblan, Bennet D. Silverman, Ryan Wood; Go90.com

“West 40s,” Written by Mark Sam Rosenthal & Brian Sloan; West40s.com

SHORT FORM NEW MEDIA ADAPTED “The Walking Dead: Red Machete,” Written by Nick Bernardone; AMC.com

ANIMATION “Bart’s Not Dead” (The Simpsons), Written by Stephanie Gillis; Fox  (WINNER)

“Boywatch” (Bob’s Burgers), Written by Rich Rinaldi; Fox

“Just One of the Boyz 4 Now for Now” (Bob’s Burgers), Written by Lizzie Molyneux & Wendy Molyneux; Fox

“Krusty the Clown” (The Simpsons), Written by Ryan Koh; Fox

“Mo Mommy Mo Problems” (Bob’s Burgers), Written by Steven Davis; Fox

“Send in Stewie, Please” (Family Guy), Written by Gary Janetti; Fox

EPISODIC DRAMA “Camelot” (“Narcos: Mexico”), Written by Eric Newman & Clayton Trussell; Netflix

“The Car” (“This Is Us”), Written by Isaac Aptaker & Elizabeth Berger; NBC

“Episode 407” (“The Affair”), Teleplay by Lydia Diamond and Sarah Sutherland, Story by Jaquen Tee Castellanos and Sarah Sutherland; Showtime

“First Blood” (“The Handmaid’s Tale”), Written by Eric Tuchman; Hulu

“Paean To The People” (“Homeland”), Written by Alex Gansa; Showtime  (WINNER)

“The Precious Blood of Jesus” (“Ozark”), Written by David Manson; Netflix

EPISODIC COMEDY “Another Place” (“Forever”), Teleplay by Alan Yang and Matt Hubbard, Story by Aniz Adam Ansari; Prime Video

“Chapter One: Make Your Mark” (“Barry”), Written by Alec Berg & Bill Hader; HBO   (WINNER)

“Halibut!” (“Santa Clarita Diet”), Written by Victor Fresco; Netflix

“Kimmy and the Beest!” (“Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt”), Written by Robert Carlock; Netflix

“Pilot” (“The Kids Are Alright”), Written by Tim Doyle; ABC

“Who Knows Better Than I” (“Orange Is the New Black”), Written by Jenji Kohan; Netflix

COMEDY/VARIETY TALK SERIES “Full Frontal With Samantha Bee,” Writers: Kristen Bartlett, Samantha Bee, Ashley Nicole Black, Pat Cassels, Mike Drucker, Eric Drysdale, Mathan Erhardt, Joe Grossman, Miles Kahn, Nicole Silverberg, Melinda Taub; TBS

“Last Week Tonight with John Oliver;” Writers: Tim Carvell, Raquel D’Apice, Josh Gondelman, Dan Gurewitch, Jeff Maurer, Daniel O’Brien, John Oliver, Brian Parise, Owen Parsons, Ben Silva, Will Tracy, Jill Twiss, Seena Vali, Juli Weiner; HBO   (WINNER)

“Late Night with Seth Meyers;” Supervising Writers: Sal Gentile, Seth Reiss; Writers: Jermaine Affonso, Alex Baze, Bryan Donaldson, Matt Goldich, Dina Gusovsky, Jenny Hagel, Allison Hord, Mike Karnell, John Lutz, Seth Meyers, Ian Morgan, Amber Ruffin, Mike Shoemaker; NBC Universal

“The Late Show with Stephen Colbert,” Head Writers: Jay Katsir, Opus Moreschi; Writers: Emmy Blotnick, Michael Brumm, Aaron Cohen, Stephen T. Colbert, Cullen Crawford, Paul Dinello, Ariel Dumas, Glenn Eichler, Django Gold, Gabe Gronli, Greg Iwinski, Barry Julien, Daniel Kibblesmith, Matt Lappin, Michael Pielocik, Kate Sidley, Jen Spyra, Brian Stack, John Thibodeaux; CBS

COMEDY/VARIETY SKETCH SERIES “At Home with Amy Sedaris,” Writers: Cindy Caponera, Paul Dinello, Jodi Lennon, Meredith Scardino, Amy Sedaris; truTV

“I Love You, America,” Head Writer: Dave Ferguson; Writers: Glenn Boozan, Leann Bowen, Raj Desai, Kyle Dunnigan, John Haskell, Tim Kalpakis, Opeyemi Olagbaju, Gavin Purcell, Diona Reasonover, Jocelyn Richard, Christopher J. Romano, Sarah Silverman, Beth Stelling, Dan Sterling, Nick Wiger; Hulu

“Nathan For You,” Writers: Leo Allen, Nathan Fielder, Carrie Kemper, Michael Koman, Adam Locke-Norton, Eric Notarnicola; Comedy Central  (WINNER)

“Portlandia,” Writers: Fred Armisen, Carrie Brownstein, Jonathan Krisel, Karey Dornetto, Megan Neuringer, Phoebe Robinson, Graham Wagner; IFC

“Saturday Night Live,” Head Writers: Michael Che, Colin Jost, Kent Sublette, Bryan Tucker; Supervising Writers: Fran Gillespie, Sudi Green, Streeter Seidell; Writers: James Anderson, Kristen Bartlett, Megan Callahan, Steven Castillo, Andrew Dismukes, Anna Drezen, Claire Friedman, Alison Gates, Steve Higgins, Sam Jay, Erik Kenward, Rob Klein, Nick Kocher, Michael Koman, Alan Linic, Eli Coyote Mandel, Erik Marino, Dave McCary, Brian McElhaney, Dennis McNicholas, Lorne Michaels, Nimesh Patel, Josh Patten, Katie Rich, Simon Rich, Gary Richardson, Marika Sawyer, Pete Schultz, Mitch Silpa, Will Stephen, Julio Torres, Bowen Yang; NBC Universal

COMEDY/VARIETY SPECIALS 2018 Rose Parade Hosted by Cord & Tish, Written by Will Ferrell, Jake Fogelnest, Andrew Steele; Prime Video

Drew Michael Stand-Up Special, Written by Drew Michael; HBO

The Fake News with Ted Nelms, Written by John Aboud, Andrew Blitz, Michael Colton, Ed Helms, Elliott Kalan, Joseph Randazzo, Sara Schaefer; Comedy Central  (WINNER)

The Oscars 2018, Written by Dave Boone, Carol Leifer, Jon Macks; Special Material Written by Megan Amram, Tony Barbieri, Jonathan Bines, Joelle Boucai, Gonzalo Cordova, Adam Carolla, Devin Field, Gary Greenberg, Josh Halloway, Sal Iacono, Eric Immerman, Jesse Joyce, Bess Kalb, Jimmy Kimmel, Molly McNearney, Danny Ricker, Joe Strazzullo; ABC

QUIZ AND AUDIENCE PARTICIPATION “Hollywood Game Night,” Head Writers: Ann Slichter, Grant Taylor; Writers: Michael Agbabian, Alexandra Kokesh, Dwight D. Smith; NBC

“Jeopardy!,” Written by Matthew Caruso, John Duarte, Harry Friedman, Mark Gaberman, Deborah Griffin, Michele Loud, Robert McClenaghan, Jim Rhine, Steve D. Tamerius, Billy Wisse; ABC

“Paid Off with Michael Torpey,” Head Writer: Ethan Berlin; Writers: John Chaneski, Rosemarie DiSalvo, Leigh Hampton, Katie Hartman, Amanda Melson, Larry Owens, Jennie Sutton, Michael Torpey, Jeremy Weiner; truTV

“Who Wants To Be A Millionaire,” Head Writer: Stephen A. Melcher, Jr.; Writers: Kyle Beakley, Tom Cohen, Patricia A. Cotter, Ryan Hopak, Gary Lucy, James Rowley, Ann Slichter, Dylan Snowden; Disney/ABC Syndication  (WINNER)

DAYTIME DRAMA “Days of Our Lives,” Head Writer: Ron Carlivati; Writers: Sheri Anderson, Lorraine Broderick, David Cherrill, Joanna Cohen, Lisa Connor, Carolyn Culliton, Richard Culliton, Rick Draughon,  Cydney Kelley, David Kreizman, David A. Levinson, Rebecca McCarty, Ryan Quan, Dave Ryan, Katherine Schock, Elizabeth Snyder, Tyler Topits; NBC

“General Hospital,” Head Writers: Shelly Altman, Christopher Van Etten; Writers: Barbara Bloom, Anna Theresa Cascio, Suzanne Flynn, Charlotte Gibson, Lucky Gold, Kate Hall, Elizabeth Korte, Daniel James O’Connor, Donny Sheldon, Scott Sickles; ABC  (WINNER)

CHILDREN’S EPISODIC AND SPECIALS “Carnivorous Carnival: Part One” (A Series of Unfortunate Events), Teleplay by Joe Tracz; Netflix

“The Ersatz Elevator: Part One” (A Series of Unfortunate Events), Teleplay by Daniel Handler; Netflix  (WINNER)

“For The Last Time” (Andi Mack), Written by Jonathan S. Hurwitz; Disney Channel

“Picture Day” (Alexa & Katie), Written by Ray Lancon; Netflix

“Warehouse Towel Fight” fka “Emil Strikes Back” (Prince of Peoria), Written by Marty Donovan; Netflix

DOCUMENTARY SCRIPT – CURRENT EVENTS “Black Hole Apocalypse” (Nova), Written by Rushmore DeNooyer; PBS

“Blackout in Puerto Rico” (Frontline), Written by Rick Young; PBS

“The Gang Crackdown” (Frontline), Written by Marcela Gaviria; PBS

“Trump’s Takeover” (Frontline), Written by Michael Kirk & Mike Wiser; PBS   (WINNER)

DOCUMENTARY SCRIPT – OTHER THAN CURRENT EVENTS “Bitter Rivals: Iran and Saudi Arabia – Part 1” (Frontline), Written by David Fanning & Linda Hirsch & Martin Smith; PBS

“The Circus, Part One” (American Experience), Written by Sharon Grimberg; PBS

“The Eugenics Crusade” (American Experience), Written by Michelle Ferrari; PBS  (WINNER)

“Into The Amazon” (American Experience), Written by John Maggio; PBS

NEWS SCRIPT – REGULARLY SCHEDULED, BULLETIN, OR BREAKING REPORT “Catastrophe” (60 Minutes), Written by Scott Pelley, Katie Kerbstat, Nicole Young; CBS News

“Las Vegas Massacre” (CBS Evening News with Anthony Mason), Written by Jerry Cipriano and Joe Clines; CBS News

“The Spotted Pig” (60 Minutes), Written by Anderson Cooper and Oriana Zill de Granados; CBS News

NEWS SCRIPT – ANALYSIS, FEATURE, OR COMMENTARY “100,000 Women” (60 Minutes), Written by Scott Pelley and Oriana Zill de Granados; CBS News

“On Broadway: Rodgers and Hammerstein” (CBS Sunday Morning), Written by Mo Rocca and Kay M. Lim; CBS News

“War Crime” (60 Minutes), Written by Scott Pelley, Katie Kerbstat, Nicole Young; CBS News

“Wounds of War” (60 Minutes), Written by Scott Pelley, Katie Kerbstat, Nicole Young; CBS News

DIGITAL NEWS “D.C.’s Biggest Homeless Shelter Is About to Close. Will Amazon Take Its Place?,” Written by Emma Roller; Splinter

“How To Not Die In America,” Written by Molly Osberg; Splinter

“Inside The Culture Of Sexism At Riot Games,” Written by Cecilia D’Anastasio; Kotaku.com  (WINNER)

RADIO/AUDIO DOCUMENTARY “2017 Year in Review,” Written by Gail Lee; CBS News Radio

“RFK: 50 Years After Shots Rang Out at The Ambassador Hotel,” Written by Andrew Evans; ABC News Radio   (WINNER)

RADIO/AUDIO NEWS SCRIPT—REGULARLY SCHEDULED, BULLETIN, OR BREAKING REPORT “5pm CBS News Radio Glor Newscast,” Written by James Hutton; CBS News Radio

“ABC News 6p Hourly 9-27-2018,” Written by Stephanie Pawlowski; ABC News Radio

“Remembering The Good, The Bad and the Brilliant,” Written by Gail Lee; CBS News Radio  (WINNER)

“World News This Week 9-21-2018,” Written by Joan B. Harris; ABC News Radio

RADIO/AUDIO NEWS SCRIPT – ANALYSIS, FEATURE, OR COMMENTARY “John McCain: A Life of Service,” Written by Gail Lee; CBS News Radio  (WINNER)

“A Tribute to Le Grand Orange,” Written by Thomas A. Sabella; CBS Radio News

ON-AIR PROMOTION (RADIO OR TELEVISION) “FBI 2018 Promo Reel,” Written by Ralph Buado; CBS

“Tribute to Star Trek for the 2019 Creative Arts Emmys,” Written by Sean Brogan; CBS  (WINNER)

“Westworld: Season 2 Promo (Super Bowl spot),” Written by Jonathan Nolan; HBO

Source: variety

By DAVE MCNARY

[frontiervolunteering]

5 Amazing Movie Locations

Films can be the ultimate form of escapism; you can immerse yourself in the drama of someone else’s life and experiences and visit exotic locations and sometimes even other worlds all without leaving your sofa. In this article we tell you how you can visit these locations for real! Lord of the Rings, New Zealand We couldn’t make this list without including Lord of the Rings, this film trilogy along with fellow Tolkien creation, The Hobbit is known for some of the most awe-inspiring scenery. As a lot of people know, it was filmed in New Zealand and this country has since seen a boom in tourists visiting in order to explore middle-earth for themselves. Visitors can take a trip to the gardens of Isengard, by visiting the Hutt River in Wellington. LOTR fans can also take a trip to the beautiful mount Sunday and see where the set for the city of Edoras was built. It is even possible to visit actual hobbiton in the village of Matamata, as the set from the film has been left in place as a permanent tourist attraction.#

Flickr | Phillip Capper

The Beach, Thailand The 2000 Danny Boyle adaptation of the book of the same name sees Leonardo DiCaprio and his mates having a blast in a secret beach paradise, that is of course until it all goes horribly wrong and gets pretty dark and twisted. The biggest star of this film, however, is probably the setting. The scenes set on the beach were filmed on the stunning Ko Phi Phi Leh, an island in Thailand. This is a popular location with tourists, and it’s easy to see why, the island rock formations and crystal clear waters are simply breathtaking.

Flickr | Eulinky

Skyfall, Scotland This Bond film is the third film to see Daniel Craig portray the famous spy, and true to 007 form features many glamorous filming locations from all over the globe. The film starts in Turkey, with Bond being shot and falling into a river from a viaduct, would we expect anything less? Other locations include London, Shanghai and of course, Glencoe in Scotland where the final and highly dramatic scenes were filmed. The final scenes of this film are probably the most famous and memorable, they see shoot-outs, helicopter crashes and 007 struggling for his life in a frozen lake. These scenes were shot partly in the stunning glens of Glencoe and less glamorously, partly in a studio in Surrey. The serene Glen Etive was used in shots to illustrate the calm before the storm of the final epic action scenes.

Flickr | Neil Williamson

Lost in Translation, Japan This critically acclaimed 2003 film starring Bill Murray alongside Scarlett Johansson was filmed almost entirely in Tokyo. The film features beautiful shots of the city and showcases some of its best nightlife and culture. Tokyo is an awe-inspiring city with high-rise buildings packed together creating a sea of lights. There is much to explore in this bustling metropolis, including amazing food, incredible architecture and of course, karaoke.

Flickr | Jannes Glas

Mama Mia, Greece Even if you aren’t a fan of ABBA, musicals or Meryl Streep the locations around Greece where Mama Mia was partly filmed are too beautiful to resist. The film shows the beautiful beaches and blue waters of the Greek islands, glistening in the sunlight. The film was mainly shot on the island of Skopelos, which is larger than the better-known islands of Mykonos and Santorini. The island is home to mountains, beaches and the characteristic bright white buildings of Greece. 

Flickr | almekri01

Did some of your favourites make the list? Whether you fancy yourself as a 007 secret agent or a Frodo Baggins, we hope you’ve been inspired to explore these stunning film locations for yourself!

By Gabrielle Brooks - Online Journalism Intern

Frontier runs conservation, development, teaching and adventure travel projects in over 50 countries worldwide - so join us and explore the world!

Get more from us on social media with Facebook, Twitter , Instagram and YouTube.

[junker-town]

Ranking Thursday’s NCAA tournament games from best to worst

The best Thursday of the year has arrived, sports fans. March Madness is back.

The best Thursday of the sports calendar has arrived. For 12 straight hours (usually more), we get to watch 32 of the best college basketball teams in America go at it in the most ruthless, unforgiving, and exciting postseason this country has to offer. It’s impossible to have a bad day when that’s the layout.

Day one, which will kick off just after noon on the East Coast, is absolutely stacked. Let’s rank all 16 of the first Thursday games we’re going to be following.

1. West: (5) Marquette vs. (12) Murray State (4:30 p.m./TBS)

This isn’t just about Ja Morant vs. Markus Howard, but it’s not hard to see why people want to make it seem that way. The top five pick NBA Draft pick who might be the most exciting player in college basketball outside of Zion Williamson vs. the step-back assassin who can go off for 45 on any given night. Here’s hoping it lives up to the billing.

2. Midwest: (4) Kansas vs. (13) Northeastern (4 p.m./TNT)

Kansas has seemed like a team trending towards an early exit all season long. Northeastern, a team that is finally fully healthy and takes and makes a whole bunch of three-pointers, fits the bill of a double-digit seed who can send them home. Even if the Huskies don’t pull the upset, expect this one to be tight in the final minutes.

3. Midwest: (5) Auburn vs. (12) New Mexico State (1:30 p.m./TNT)

Like Murray State/Marquette this has become a super trendy 12/5 upset pick. New Mexico State has a gaudy 30-4 record, but the Aggies also have the longest active NCAA tournament losing streak in the country at 12 straight defeats. Auburn is red-hot after a run to the SEC tournament title last weekend, but they live and die by the three, which can sometimes be a recipe for an early exit. Of course other times it can be the recipe for a blowout win.

4. East: (7) Louisville vs. (10) Minnesota (12:15 p.m./CBS)

The day begins with a quality matchup of two power conference teams that mirror each other in a handful of ways. And there’s nothing else to talk about here. Just the basketball. No off-the-court drama, no coaches with history on the other side, just Jordan Murphy vs. Jordan Nwora. Should be fun.

5. East: (3) LSU vs. (14) Yale (12:40 p.m./truTV)

There are a number of variables that make predicting a somewhat accurate forecast of how the NCAA tournament is going to play out a damn near impossible task. A talented 3-seed playing without its head coach is a new one. If LSU is a beat off without Will Wade, they could be ripe for the picking. Yale is probably a seed line too low at 14, they have an NBA talent in Miye Oni, and they have enough athletes around him to hang with even a team as talented as the Tigers.

6. Midwest: (7) Wofford vs. (10) Seton Hall (9:40 p.m./CBS)

There’s been so much talk about Ja Morant vs. Markus Howard, but Fletcher Magee vs. Myles Powell has the potential to be just as good, if not better. Both guys have the ability to get absolutely unconscious from deep, which should be enough to keep the eyes of weary basketball fans open during Thursday’s final hours.

7. East: (6) Maryland vs. (11) Belmont (3:10 p.m./truTV)

Everyone seems to love Belmont here, but the Bruins have a monumental task when it comes to finding a way to guard one of the most talented big men in the country, Maryland’s Bruno Fernando. Rick Byrd waited 33 years for his first NCAA tournament win. Now he might get two in less than three days.

8. West: (4) Florida State vs. (13) Vermont (2 p.m./TBS)

Vermont has the talent and experience to upset a lot of single-digit seeds in this field, but Florida State might not be one of them. The Seminoles have lost to just two teams since getting Phil Cofer back to 100 percent in mid-January: Duke and North Carolina. The Catamounts could certainly make some noise early in this one, but FSU’s size and athleticism seems like to tall a mountain for John Becker’s team to climb.

9. South: (6) Villanova vs. (11) Saint Mary’s (7:20 p.m./TBS)

On paper this seems fun. Both programs have been known to get up and down a little bit thanks to their talented guards, and there’s also the history of Saint Mary’s stunning second-seeded Villanova in the second round back in 2010. A closer look reveals that both teams are prone to long stretches of some pretty rough offense. The Gaels especially like to slow things down and junk up the action. The result is going to be interesting, the work it takes to get there, less so.

10. West: (7) Nevada vs. (10) Florida (6:50 p.m./TNT)

Two talented teams that both expected to find themselves much higher on the food chain come the opening Thursday of the tournament. Both have an opportunity to make amends for the past three months and finally play up to their potential, but only one can take the first step in that process.

11. West: (8) Syracuse vs. (9) Baylor (9:57 p.m./truTV)

Jim Boeheim hasn’t lost a first round game in the NCAA tournament since 2006. Extending that streak got a little tougher with Wednesday’s news that starting point guard Frank Howard has been suspended for the remainder of the season.

12. Midwest: (2) Kentucky vs. (15) Abilene Christian (7:10 p.m./CBS)

No one’s calling an upset here, but Abilene Christian loves to let it fly from the outside, and Kentucky has struggled with perimeter defense fairly consistently this season. If nothing else, that combination could make for some exciting stretches of play.

13. South: (3) Purdue vs. (14) Old Dominion (9:50 p.m./TBS)

The only way this game stays close is if Carsen Edwards’ recent shooting slump continues and Old Dominion is able to effectively slow the pace of the game to a crawl. That could make for a fun final two minutes, but the work it’ll take to get there won’t be particularly enjoyable.

14. West: (1) Gonzaga vs. (16) Fairleigh Dickinson (7:27 p.m./truTV)

The 16/1 games aren’t as alluring in this post-UMBC world, but if you have the choice between watching a closer than it should be 16/1 game and a closer than it should be 15/2 game, you’re still going to roll with the 16/1.

15. East: (2) Michigan State vs. (15) Bradley (2:45 p.m./CBS)

Michigan State isn’t the most talented or athletic 2-seed the tournament has ever seen, but they’re too solid to let an inarguably average Bradley team hang with them for any more than a half. This should be the first clunker of Thursday.

16. West: (2) Michigan vs. (15) Montana (9:20 p.m./TNT)

The West Region ends the opening night by giving us a first round rematch from last season ... that none of us asked for.

[avanneman]

Nate Silver explains it all for me. Pretty much.

Before the 2016 election—before the death of reason—elections impresario and general numbers dude Nate Silver put together and posted on his fivethirtyeight website the video shown above, “Long Before Trump, There Was Ross Perot”. What was interesting to me was not so much Perot seen as a precursor to Herr Donald as the conviction expressed by both George H. W. Bush deputy campaign manager (and now more or less former Republican) Mary Matalin and then Vice President Dan Quayle chief of staff (and now more or less former Republican) Bill Kristol that it was Perot who cost Bush the election.

Although as Nate himself explains, repeatedly, all the polls show that Perot took votes equally from Bush and Clinton, Mary and Bill both insist that that couldn’t be the case, although they base their argument not on data but rather their belief that Bush “deserved” to win and therefore should have won. It’s surprising (a little) that neither election pro Matalin nor history buff Kristol remembered what happened to Winston Churchill after he won World War II (a crushing defeat that gave Great Britain the first real, unfettered Labour Government in its history) or the Democratic Party in the USA in 1946—the first Republican Congress since 1932. If ’46 had been a presidential year, Truman almost surely would have gone down to defeat as well.

There is a natural ebb and flow to politics, to which, Republicans foolishly believed, they had become immune, thanks both to the great god Ronnie and the inherent and inescapable looneyness of the Democratic Party. And now look! An actual goddamn hippie in the White House, in direct violation of God’s Will!

Supposed sophisticates Matalin and Kristol never seemed to have asked themselves, if their supposition that Perot cost Bush the election was true, why did so many Bush voters go for Perot rather than their man Bush? What was so attractive about a jug-eared fast talker who quit the race five months before the election, alleging vague conspiracies against him, and then jumped back in two months later? Why would good Republicans vote for such a freak over a genuine war hero and triumphant commander in chief?

As I’ve frequently said, the Republican Party never accepted, and never recovered from, the shock of Bill Clinton’s election. Some, like Kristol and Matalin, seemed to think Clinton’s victory to be somehow invalid because it was “immoral”. Others were simply stunned by Bush’s massive unpopularity—his share of the popular vote (37.4%) was lower than any Republican presidential candidate since Roosevelt crushed Alf Landon in 1936 and considerably lower than Wanderin’ Walt Mondale’s 40.6%, garnered while being stomped by Reagan in 1984. Worse than Walter! That hurts!

For whatever reason, the hatred that rapidly formed against the Clintons for shattering the illusion of the once famous “mortal lock” on the presidency possessed by the Republican Party was phenomenal. The stunning growth of conspiracy theories that explained this ejection from Eden first blossomed, this transformation from Hyperion to satyr, an obsession that has come to define the Republican Party ever since, which now lives within the Fox tunnel. Kevin Williamson, semi-rational (at times) before his swiftboating/swiftbooting from his brief gig with the Atlantic for advocating that women who get abortions be hanged,1 put it this way:

A great deal of damage already has been done [to the Republican Party by Donald Trump], and there’s surely more to come. But there is a vicious cycle at work, too: Trump has an agency all his own, but the outrage merchants of Fox News and talk radio were on the lookout for their Trump before Trump came along. Trump fulfills a narrative necessity: There must always be betrayal. You cannot sell what they are selling without it. If the Democrats are in power, then they are betraying the country; if the Republicans are in power, then the “establishment” is betraying the country, “the country” here meaning the 0.8 percent of Americans who watch Tucker Carlson’s show on any given evening.2

As I’ve repeatedly charged, it was “respectable” conservatives as much as the mouth-breathing dittoheads who laid the groundwork for Trump.

I believe that Williamson, wanting more or less to be a dick, had argued that hanging was the best way to execute a human being and then, later, agreeing that abortion could at least be considered murder, suggested “provocatively” that if that were the case, then hanging would be the way to go. Instead of admitting that he was just being a dick, several times over, and that he was just “kidding” when he proposed the execution of several million women, Williamson stuck to his guns, and his nonsense. Well, there are rewards for being obnoxious to feminists, but writing for the Atlantic is not one of them. ↩︎

In an earlier post on things right wing, I posted the above quote from Kenny Boy, and then added the following: Yet even Williamson, after that crushing aside, has to take it back in an awkward parenthetical: “(That isn’t to mock Tucker Carlson; he’s a gifted man, but relatively few people watch cable news for the same reason that far fewer people read National Review than US Weekly.)” Uh, Kevin, you first implied that the 0.8 percent of Americans who watch Tucker Carlson’s show on any given evening are frothing followers of Steve Bannon and then in your next sentence you compare them to the rare spirits who delight in the frothy neo-Buckleian wit of the National Review? Why not just plaster a bumper sticker on your forehead that says “Tucker I’m Your Bitch!” ↩︎