#billy wheelan

[weaponizedmoth]

For the art requests, can I ask that you draw Pete and Billy? :3

They're my favorite characters, thank you for this.

[sunlightmurdock]

AETERNA | Two

ONE | MASTERLIST

SNYOPSIS: the show begins.

WARNINGS: smoking; the fic takes place in the 70s and so 70s era things will happen; mentions of minor character death; this fic has mature themes and is intended for adults, minors pls dni. spooky stuff. word count: 7.2k

…

On days that Billy works late at the shop, or just can’t find time to entertain your whims, you walk home from the Pines. It’s not too bad of a journey, you’re lucky that Fred and Joan didn’t pick a place too far out.

If you were to cross the creek at the bend, right outside of work, it would shave a good twenty minutes off of your journey. In the interest of keeping your Keds white and your socks dry, you take the longer route and walk down West Avenue.

Past the laundromat and Miss Jessie’s hair salon. Along the grass verge, sticking to the side of the road where there’s no footpath. People drive safer this close to town. Usually.

Early afternoon and you’re thinking about that evening.

Olive was supposed to come along with you tonight, but she blew you off to go fool around behind the old firehouse with this older guy she’s seeing. Twenty-eight, a father-to-be, and he still gets his kicks in the bushes like a teenager. Gnarly.

It’s for the best, though; your mom doesn’t like Olive too much. Joan wasn’t ever too strict with you — she let you scrape your knees and muddy your Sunday Bests, a couple minutes after curfew here and there never hurt. But to her, someone like Olive is someone treading water and bound to go under.

In Olive, you have found the big sister you had always wanted, but you wouldn’t go under with her. You’re too smart for that, your father says.

Without Olive, it’ll just be you and Georgie tonight. You just hope that he doesn’t get the willies and make you leave before it’s over. Fred would probably be pretty upset if you did wind up coming home without his only surviving son.

Wesley’s pictures are still up around the house, and his room remains untouched down the hall from yours, but he’ll have been gone five years in July. He doesn’t come up in conversation much anymore.

In another life, he would be driving tonight. You’d get shotgun and radio privileges, Georgie would get to be a real little brother and be banished to the backseat. You’d get your kicks chasing after gold-skinned West-Coasters and Wes would do what he always had and man the fort.

“You’re back!” Georgie greets you — half scaring you to death — by leaping down from the second stair and onto the runner by the door. You wobble in the direction you had come, the screen door clapping against your backside and deciding for you that you’re staying inside. “I’ve been waiting forever!”

“Yeah? Forever?” You drop your bag by the door and point a finger between the stripes on his t-shirt, right into that ticklish spot against his ribs. When he grins, he looks like your big brother had. He’s not much like Wes, though. It’s better that way.

“Man, and now I have to wait for you to get dressed!” Georgie realises, throwing his head back in complaint. “What time are we leaving?”

“Little after five,” You say and step around him as he spirals to keep with you, glancing down at the chunky brown wristwatch you use primarily to time Mr. Wheelan’s phone conversations with his mother against your smoke breaks. “Hour and a half. If that’s alright with you.”

He lingers at the bottom of the stairs while you hasten for your room. An uncertain frown works its way onto his freckled face as his stomach rumbles under the confines of his Sears’ Best t-shirt. “… Before supper?”

“Fred gave me money — we’ll get something on the way.”

From the downstairs hall, he curls his fist into a ball and celebrates under his breath. You wouldn’t be able to hear him anyway, your fingers already dropping the needle onto your still inky, sexy new Fleetwood Mac record.

After a month and a bit of trying, you had nabbed it at a store a town over. Atwood’s excuse for a record store rarely had the new stuff.

Sharp, fast-guitar strums and Lindsay Buckingham’s wicked vocals. There’s nothing better. Well, not yet. Someday soon, Lindsay Buckingham will be on the guest list to one of the lavish parties you’ll throw. By then, you won’t sing as embarrassingly as you do in your childhood bedroom.

Making your way through buttons and fastenings and stockings and Keds, you hop and dance to lyrics you haven’t quite memorized yet while shedding the candy-striped version of yourself for someone far superior.

Wiggling your hips and nodding your head as you pick through your closet, you’re searching for a safe middle ground in a sea of far from between. You’ll need something that Georgie won’t snake to Joan about, and something California at the same time. That’s where they’re from, you figure. With tans and smiles like that, it just seems like the reasonable guess.

Your skin-tight bell-bottoms are the obvious choice. Georgie can’t nark on you for jeans, but then again, these are so much more than jeans. They’re heaven sent. You’d spent your first Pines paycheck on them, and they were worth every penny.

The record plays on through tracks two, three, four and into “Go Your Own Way” while you’re still making up your mind on how to decorate your top half. Red would be your usual pick to stand out, but you’re going to be surrounded by a sea of red so that’s out. Green would make you stick out like a Christmas tree. Yellow works, you guess, in a McDonalds kind of way.

There’s no need for an alarm clock. By track six, Georgie is trying your doorknob and reminding you promptly that it’s a little after five. Fred installed that bolt lock on your door a little over a year ago. It keeps your brother out in the hallway. Your wristwatch, discarded, confirms that it’s exactly six minutes after five. That means time for make-up is over and you really need to find a shirt.

“We still have time for burgers, right?” Georgie bounds down the stairs ahead of you with reckless abandon and lacking coordination, slipping on the rug and catching himself on the stair rail.

“If you tie your laces in less than ten minutes.” Your answer is purely to tease him. You’re uncertain about the denim waistcoat you were forced to pick, but the jeans save it. Your new leather boots will make it.

As you zip them up your calves, Georgie races past you, almost banging into the front door as he wrestles it open. As he tears outside, you notice his feet halfway jammed into his sneakers, wobbling with each step. “I’ll tie ‘em in the car!”

Joan stops, wincing through her view from the dining room window as her overconfident little boy steps onto his own lace and tumbles into the door of the family station wagon.

“Nice going, Airhead!” You call out, turning your head mid-jibe to find your mother watching you. Her face flattens sternly, but she decides her priorities lie with making sure her airhead son picks himself out of the dirt okay.

The screen door rattles behind you as you jog down the steps and Georgie scrambles to his feet, brushing off his blue jeans.

“Wave bye to Mom.” You remind him, waving sweetly at the dining room window as you unlock the car and slink into the driver’s seat.

He stands straight and grins, cheeks dimpled as he waves toward the window.

The old radio system crackles to a start, and Joan watches from the dining room window as you reverse it down the driveway and pull out onto the main road.

The sky sits between purple and blue, darkening like a bruise as the station wagon follows the winding country roads that stretch out towards the O’Malley farm. It sits between mountain foothills, on the verge of Cole County, almost in Martock County — country club central.

In the late afternoon, your brother is buzzing. He can barely contain his excitement, or his singing voice despite you making him promise to stop exactly six miles back. He shoots a gleaming look up at you, grinning as he holds onto his vanilla shake like it’s a Pulitzer Prize. Fast food, his favorite flavor shake, and a trip to the realm of the unknown all in one night.

He’s going to have a lot to talk about come Miss Lindsay’s class Monday morning.

You plan to have plenty to talk about Monday morning, too. I.e. the dirt on those guys you spotted out by airport road; you saw ‘em first, and Olive is, in some regards, spoken for — so they’re all yours for now. At least one of them must be single. The guy with the mustache had a girl in his passenger seat, after all. But she didn’t seem to want to hit you for drooling all over him, so either she’s a Martian or she says he’s fair game.

“There it is, I see it!” Georgie declares, spotting the glowing Ferris wheel through a break in the trees. Your stomach twists, a giddy excitement toying at your nerve endings. You play it cool, shooting him a knowing smile, tugging the wheel to a slow left.

The O’Malley farm is the biggest in the area, threatening to be the oldest thing around too. Of its acres and acres of land, the circus has been allotted a four acre space at the forefront, just off the road.

You were here once for a Fourth of July fireworks show. You’d spilled mustard on your new white jeans. Your older brother had put you up on his shoulders and you’d forgotten how sad you were, lost in a sea of red, white and blue sparks.

Georgie lights up with the foreground, his jaw going slack as he stares out at the sea of sounds and colours ahead of him. Sure, it’s Saturday night but this place is packed. The designated span of grass is filled with Atwood’s car and truck collection; you do as Fred would want, and leave the station wagon at the end of the row. It’ll be easier to get out later.

It’s all neon around here. Purple lingers in the darkening sky, the dirt and the grass dry and the air brisk. Lights and screams overpower the song playing over the radio. The same one you’d heard out on Airport Road. Electricity fizzles in your stomach the way static feels on your fingertips when you reach for the television screen.

“Can we get cotton candy?”

Your head turns. Your gaze flickers downward. You eyeball the emptied cup, the now missing vanilla shake, and then look back at your brother’s ecstatic face. His feet kick uncontrollably in the footwell. Your lips purse, as if to consider the proposal. Guitar plays on around you, all electric like the feeling in your stomach.

“Yeah… we’ll see,” You cut the ignition and grab your purse from the passenger side footwell. With the engine, the radio dies too, and the song stops abruptly. The familiar guitar riff cuts out before you even remember where you’ve heard it before. “Let’s get our tickets first.”

Though, it might be kind of a fun joke to get him all hopped up on sugar and take him back home to kill Fred’s Saturday Night Movie Marathon. His VHS collection is unrivaled amongst the dads of Atwood.

Georgie is absolutely not, under any circumstances, allowed to get his grubby little paws on a single one of those tapes. Not because they’re dirty, or scary — but because Georgie likes to understand the mechanics of how things come apart and Fred prefers his belongings intact.

Your eyes are drawn to every corner of your peripheral, your boots tracking through dry dirt path. One hand on Georgie’s shoulder, you keep note that he’s still with you as your eyes explore. Dirt spills into grassland and you’re off the path; you just aim for the centre.

The fairground roars around you, hitting the peak of Saturday night excitement, carnival games singing and rattling around you and the carousel singing out dead ahead. Lights and games whir wildly around you, it feels like you’re still hearing that electric riff even now it’s gone.

“Can we go on the Ferris wheel?” Georgie tugs at your forearm, barely audible over the thrum of the whirring generator beside you. A shrieking scream tears your attention from him. To your far right, there’s a Rotor ride — a giant, spinning green cage that sticks you to the wall with one of Newton’s laws. If your eighth grade teacher was hotter, you’d know which one.

“If you’ll ride that one with me.” You point a gel-polished fingertip toward the spinning ride. Georgie shifts a bit, and fiddles with his hands. He’s eleven this year, getting too old to be chickening out of fairground rides.

“Alright.” He agrees without nodding, or really even moving. Your wristwatch is still on your bed at home, but with all the crowds out here, you know you must have time. Your hand presses between his shoulder blades, carrying him with you as you start towards the spinning ride.

Fifty cents later and you’re looking across at him, each of your backs pressed flat against the flimsy, green-painted metal. He reaches out for your hand and squeezes his eyes shut. You turn your head towards the lilac hue and inhale; buttered popcorn and sugar-sweet candy floss filling your senses.

“Smell that?” You ask him, squeezing your fingers around his. He peeks one eye open, his nose wrinkling. He smells it too, the sweet scent in the air. The sky’s coloured like it’s full of it, lighter than usual because of all the sugar. “No one’s ever been afraid while eating candy floss.”

And he stumbles off, feeling like he’s still spinning in circles and regretting that big vanilla shake a little bit, but grinning. The safety of being with a big sister isn’t something you ever grow out of. He looks up at you, your hand on his shoulder.

Your hair whips around you as you follow him off of the ride, still laughing at the way he’d shrieked. Your eyes crinkle at the edges and your knees angle towards each other like you’re laughing so hard you might pee, your laugh is far reaching.

The eyes on you, though amused, turn away as quickly as they’d found you. The feeling lingers anyway and you turn, looking through the crowds, searching for the attention you feel. Your instincts are good, but your eyes catch on the wrong thing. Your admirer has already turned in the other direction.

The sky has darkened sometime since you stepped onto the ride. It verges; safe, summer lilac bloom and tinged toward the color of a fresh bruise. The lights around are so bright that the O’Malley farmland looks like it’s being consumed, fading into the dark around it.

To the right side of the Big Top is a rectangular booth with a helpfully illuminated TICKETS sign hanging above, and a man inside shouting the same word on repeat with different varying offers.

His sights land on you. Something sudden, mechanical, almost. His gaze is stiff and unwavering, eyelids peeled back, irises black. Immediately, you feel watched. Not like before, not something instinctual that had made you turn to look.

It feels like even the sky up above notices, the sky skulking towards that kind of blue named after the darkest point of the night.

Wearing a black button-up shirt with a red waistcoat, he’s the only person around that you can see in a uniform. His face is a grease-paint white and there’s a red smile painted across his lips. They stretch back to reveal straight, white teeth, bared like an animal. Then, they curl at the edges and become something more natural — something closer to a smile.

“Show’s about to start! Sales close in the next five minutes, folks! Get your tickets!” He calls out like he’s looking right through you, even though you’re walking right for him now.

Steadied, no longer spinning, Georgie stares in awe, his neck craned all the way back as he watches the Ferris Wheel carriages rock and wobble. Safe with his big sister, he’s not looking. You curl your fingers into the back of his shirt, losing the sinister, greased-red smile in the crowd for a second as you reach for your purse with your other hand.

The bodies pass by and there he is again, watching you once again, but up closer he’s not so scary at all. You can see the way the paint is brushed onto his skin, and his eyes aren’t really black but more of a deep brown. His lips stretch into a goofy, friendly grin.

His rigid fingers relax against the wooden podium he’s posted behind, nail marks in the wood hidden behind his glove-covered palms.

“Hi, kids,” He’s got the goofy clown voice nailed, too. He almost makes you smile as he looks towards Georgie and plants his hands on his hips from inside the booth. “Are you excited for the show, young man?”

“Yes, sir.” Georgie answers back, suddenly bashful as he hangs off of your forearm.

“Two tickets, please.” You tell him, that awful, cold feeling ebbing away as you dip into your purse and pull five dollars from your wallet. Two dollars for kids, three for adults. Steeper than the movie theater, that’s for sure.

“Here you go! You kids enjoy the show now.” The clown slides the two pink stubs under the plastic for you, tipping his head to the side and grinning real wide once again.

“Thanks.” You turn and plant your hand on Georgie’s back again. Those folks who stick reins on their kids might be onto something. “It’s about to start. We’ll do the wheel later, okay?”

People have already started to filter in ahead and behind you. The tent is quieter, and darker than outside, the screams of excitement seem so much further away. Following the flickering string lights, you venture deeper under the shade of thick, red and white canvas.

Ahead of you is a circle marked by red borders, a round, dirt-bottomed arena for the performers. Rows and rows of bleachers surrounding the space, pushing at the walls of the tent for the audience. It looks bigger inside. They were expecting a big crowd, and they got it.

“Here.” You pat softly at his shoulder and point to the second row of bleachers. Front row might be better for someone his size, but you would just about die of embarrassment if you got called as a volunteer.

“Uh-huh. Do you want a soda?” Georgie asks, planting his butt onto the wooden bench beside you, rocking the soles of his Chucks into the wooden slat below. He’s been waiting to ask, these dimes have been burning a hole in his pocket since Fred handed them over this afternoon.

A gentleman always pays, and that’s what Georgie’ll be someday soon.

You chortle, shaking your head. “I’m alright. Do you need some money?”

People filter in around you with hushed pardons and thank-yous. You set your bag down under the bench and that’s where it remains, forgotten, for the rest of the evening..

“No. I brought mine! — I’ve gotta get you something,” He explains, the freckles on his face disappearing as the lights above you flicker on and off purposefully. He fishes a hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a handful of coins, presenting them to you urgently. “Popcorn?”

Instantly, you recognise this as the workings of your father. Wesley, too. A smile ticks at the corner of your mouth, then catches.

The last person standing takes their seat. The circus tent stirs, buzzing to life with hushed whispers of what’s to come. There’s a constant whir in the background, the sound of generators keeping this place going.

Craning your neck back, you study the support beams. The podiums so far up that you can no longer see the wires, the hooks for silks, the point at the very top of the tent where all of the lights stem from.

A reminder that summer grows nearer by the minute, the tent is already thick with the warm evening air.

Your gaze flickers back to the tall podiums and the bowed ceiling of the canvas as the stage lights flicker and then dim. A thud rings out like a stack of books dropping as a spotlight hits dead center on the red curtain that hangs. Everything settles into an abrupt quiet.

“After. It’s starting.”

Anticipation settles under the canvas, weighing heavier than the early May air. Popcorn crunching and shoes fidgeting against the wooden bleachers, a cough from somewhere to your far left.

Then, with another thud, the tent falls pitch black. Georgie squeezes your wrist. He’s still scared of the dark.

With a rush, a spotlight beams on the center of the arena, revealing at once a man in black slacks and an elaborate red tailcoat. From beneath the brim of his top hat, his mouth twists into a smile, the rest of his face hidden under the cast of a shadow.

His white, gloved hands stretch out from behind his back and lift from his sides in an almost greeting gesture. He spreads his wingspan, addressing the audience as he steps forward and looks swiftly up, his gaze piercing and blue.

It tracks that he’s the one in charge around here. Older, but young in the way his eyes glint with trouble. He looks left to right, following the curve of the audience, captivating his spectators with knife-life sharpness.

The crowd has fallen resoundingly still. Popcorn goops with the threat of cooling, congealing butter. Shoes are unwavering, suddenly stuck. Georgie’s eyes bulge, blinking back at the unblinking Ringmaster.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen.” With a chilling air of calm, his lips peel back into a toothy smile. It’s friendly by nature, but cold to the eye. His head twists slowly, bending thirty degrees to the left, his smile spreading the way water does when puddled. “To the greatest show in the world.”

Ambitious, you think. Some hot guys and some speeding fines and suddenly the rest of the world are out of the running.

You recognise the self-assured leader of it all. He’s the guy from the first van, the big one, with the girl in the passenger seat. Hell on wheels, coming over that hill. Brown hair feathers from under the hat and sits around his jaw, the only part of him that’s not immaculately kept.

The tailed coat he wears is effectively tailored, showing off the gold watch on his right hand and the glimpse of a tattoo from under the sleeve of his left arm. The jacket is especially extravagant, threaded with gold buttons and woven thread down the lapels. He’s a lot more polished-looking than the guy at the ticket booth.

There’s something similar in the way his eyes land on you though. His gaze is gone again as soon as it touches you. His smile keeps on spreading, a puddle seeping through the sand floor at his feet, reaching, tendrilous, for the bleachers.

Music starts behind him, light and bouncy like the kind of sounds a carousel plays. He peeks backwards, and returns his gaze to the audience with a knowing grin.

“Sounds like my friends are excited to meet you all,” He says quietly. Then, he smiles and waves the idea off. The music stops with a beat. “They’ll have their turn. First, I have something to share with you all.”

He’s a hell of a magician. Captivating, really, the way he manages to keep track of the packed room. He’s everywhere, and aware of everything at once. During a trick in which he made a rabbit disappear, not into a hat, but into the very back of the crowd — someone near you began to whisper their theories. You don’t know how he heard what they said, but you know that it wasn’t an accident when that rabbit peed in their lap.

Beneath the awe and wonder of his run-of-the-mill magic routine, there’s something inexplicable. Something in the way he maneuvers; the way he smiles like he’s in on a joke that you aren’t. All magicians are, you guess, but this is different.

The show flows on beyond him, performers emerging from the shadows with knowing looks on their faces. All of them hold onto that punchline through their tricks and trials, their mind-bending illusions and death-defying stunts.

It doesn’t stop with the appearance of the face you had been hoping to see. As he takes the stage, twisting a flaming staff expertly to a drumbeat so loud that it feels like it rattles your brain itself, he too is in on the joke. He throws the burning stick into the air. As it flips and spins, he takes a moment to look out across the crowd.

With the thundering drum beat, the orange glow of the flame, the sweat beading down his chest, the crowd hangs in anticipation as the object hurtles back down towards him. Searching through the sea of faces, a calm smile settles onto his face. He leans back, opens his palm, and catches the burning staff before it strikes him.

As much as his performance strikes an interest in you, you’re concerned that it might spark an interest in Georgie for a different reason.

Once he has returned into the same shadow behind the curtain that they all come from, there’s something that lingers with you. A delusional sense of hope, maybe, that because he looked at you once, he would do it again.

The evening’s entertainment draws to an end with another visit from the Ringmaster. With his unnaturally blue eyes and his stretching, tendriled smile, he bids Atwood goodnight. The last ones in are the first ones out, the Big Top becomes more shadow than human as the sea of faces filter out into the fairground.

“That was awesome!” Your little brother declares, throwing his hands up into the air in balled fists. “Could we come again?”

Oh, you’re planning on it. Golden Boy’s act alone is enough to guarantee you a return spot. Later tonight, when you’re alone and in bed, you’ll be thinking of the way his aptly golden biceps flex as he curls back to nail the tip of the blade into the center of the target from a distance.

Come Monday morning, Olive will be hearing all about how she missed the way sweat beads at his chest when he’s doing that fire show.

“Yeah, maybe,” You shrug. “If Fred’s okay with it.”

Fred’s okay with everything. Georgie grins, and then remembers the condition of him being allowed to go tonight.

“Oh, wait. I have to buy you something.” He remembers, shoving his hand deep into his pocket to confirm he still has his sweaty handful of change.

Fred will check to make sure, otherwise you’d tell him to keep his money for another day. You smile, and shrug once more, looking around.

“I’ll take a Coke.” You tell him. The stand is right in front of you. It’s not that far away and even with the crowds, you shouldn’t have any issues spotting the red and orange stripes on Georgie’s shirt. You were younger than him and venturing further by yourself. You don’t think twice before letting him rush off ahead of you.

He knows exactly where you’ll be waiting for him. Just to the left of the shadowy entrance to the Big Top, you push your fingers into the tight front pockets of your jeans, looking towards the inky-indigo evening sky.

It’s getting colder, now. You’re too old for your mother to remind you to take a jacket these days. Your boots trail in the mud, starting up an even and uniformed route to pace along for warmth. Georgie waits patiently at the back of the concessions line.

An evening breeze bristles at your exposed arms and carries the smell of burning tobacco. You turn your head sharply to the left, and crane your neck. The fields around the fairground are pitch black, like this pasture is the only thing around.

The smell has you wandering just a little further, around the wide bend of the Big Top, you squint through the shadows and light up just like the Ferris Wheel behind you.

Illuminated by the orange glow at the end of his cigarette, lurking in the shadows, he’s already looking at you by the time you spot him. Wearing the same black slacks he had worn for the show, the string lights behind you catch on the gold of his necklace. Your lips twitch as he smiles across at you.

The cigarette sticks between his lips like it just wants to be there as his lips stretch wide. His cheeks hollow a bit as he puffs at it, sweat drying on his skin and prickling the blonde hairs on his arms.

Watching you wander his way, he can’t help but smile back at you. Friendly is kind of his thing when it comes to this place. After all, you came all the way out here to see him, it’s the least he could do.

“Evenin’,” He drawls, Western in more than just the way he’s dressed, as he pushes up from where he was hiding to smoke against the Zoltar machine. He saunters towards you, the light catching his skin and making it glisten like real gold as he steps into the light.

“Evening.” You greet right back, lips catching on a grin. You straighten up like he’s somebody important and that makes him smile right back at you, the bridge of his straight nose wrinkling with enjoyment.

Taking his cigarette from his lips, it settles between his index and middle fingers, then lowers to hang around his waist. His inky-black, dress-pant adorned waist. The same as he was wearing during the show. Those things don’t fit like the kind of suits you usually see — the ones you’re familiar with end just above the belly button. His sit so slow on his waist that you can see the black band of his underwear.

He doesn’t seem to mind that you can.

He hasn’t changed yet, he always sneaks out back for a smoke before he heads out to make himself known around the fair. Tips come rolling in if he makes himself friendly. That’s not why he’s here, hiding in the shadows, with you.

“So, how’d you like the show?” He asks. His cigarette wobbles between his lips in a real Clint Eastwood kind of way. The gold crucifix on his necklace slips on the chain as he moves, revealing a dark ink etched into his skin below. A cross, tattooed onto his skin, just between his collarbones at the base of his throat. The same as is on his necklace.

You tear your eyes away from his chest and look him in the eye. Georgie would pitch a fit if you asked to bum a cigarette. Really, you only smoke with Olive, anyway. “It was cool. My brother loved it.”

“And you?” He prompts, placing the cigarette back between his lips and inhaling deeply. Like he finds oxygen in the smoke, as if he’d been holding his breath since the last hit. He quirks an eyebrow at you as he lets the breath sit on his chest.

He knows he’s good looking, clearly — you can see that in the way he juts his hips out before he walks like a cowboy does. But, you can play too. You shrug at him, suddenly coy.

“It was alright.”

A breathy chuckle slips his lips.

“Yeah?” He beams at you, all intrigue and amusement, green eyes glinting as the neon lights of the fairground rides illuminate his face. “You’ve seen better?”

Oh, you like the way he plays. You trail towards him, slipping into the shadows of the Big Top. Close enough now that you can smell him; sweat, smoke and an equally smoky cologne. It smells expensive, for a carnie.

Your shrug is a balance between ditsy and daring that particularly seems to strike a chord of interest within him. “Still holdin’ out for the best, is all.”

Smirking around the growingly short cigarette, he puffs at it once more and plucks it from his lips again. Tall, broad and muscled all over — he must have served before. A bit older than you, he’d probably be the right age for it. He carries himself calmer than the other Vets you’ve seen. He doesn’t have that look in his eyes.

He’s what they should all look like, if they’d gotten to age like normal.

“Smart girl.” He decides, rolling it between his fingertips for a second. You watch as he drops it into the dirt and stubs it out with his boot. Green eyes on you once again, a flash of neon crosses his face as the ride roars into action once more. “I’ll see you.”

He says it like he knows it to be a certainty, taking a step back. His usual after- show ritual will continue with or without you. Next comes an outfit change and a spritz of cologne, then some Front of House showboating.

“Don’t you have a name?” You prompt him, brows drawing together as he wanders backwards.

He grins. “Jake.”

Jake. He even says his own name like he likes the sound of it. Like he thinks you’ll like the sound of it. Backwards, his boots fall into line behind each other; you don’t even realise you’re following him until his footprints are the only ones in the mud anymore.

Jake’ll be seeing you. You’ll be seeing Jake. It seems set already.

“Excuse me.” You turn and look over your shoulder, a muscle in your neck catching as you do a wide-eyed double take and spin.

One hand on a red and orange striped t-shirt, is the man of mystery himself. Standing tall, especially tall, taller than he had looked driving along the road that day, is Mr. Movie Star, stone-faced. Wearing a white vest with an unbuttoned blue overshirt and rolled blue jeans, he looks even better than before.

When he hadn’t turned up in the show, you’d started to think that you had imagined him. Speeding along that country-road with his sunglasses low on the bridge of his nose and the prettiest smile you’d ever seen.

Well, here he is. He doesn’t look half as happy to see you.

Your brows furrow as your gaze falls down to where his hand sits. Georgie’s shoulders heave with a shuddering, relieved sigh, tears burning in his eyes as he stares back at you with a glass Coke bottle trembling in his hand.

“I think you lost something.” The man of your dreams tells you, stone-faced, cold.

“Shit.” You whisper, and Georgie doesn’t even consider scolding you. He looks up at the man who had helped him find you, and heads for you instantly. “You okay? What happened?”

“I turned around and I couldn’t see you.” Even though he’s older now, right on the verge of being grown, his voice trembles and you remember he’s not like you were. He’s scared of the dark and he sleeps with a stuffed tiger and night; he’s sweeter than you’ve ever been.

He goes to wrap his arms around your middle and you welcome him with a one-armed embrace.

The guy from the road is still watching you. His hair is tousled and his shoulders are stretching out that overshirt, his cheeks are warm and pink. Eyes dark, he eyeballs you from boots to earrings.

“Thanks,” You can’t help but take a look behind you. Jake is long gone already. You smile softly in polite gratitude. “Sorry, I just — took my eye off him for a second.”

His eyes linger on your face, a silent second too long. The wait almost makes you squirm on the spot, wondering if he recognises you, if he’s mad at you. Finally, he meets Georgie’s gaze and shoots him a cool shrug. “It’s all gravy.”

Georgie unravels himself from you and pushes the Coke bottle into your hand, and you hold off on pushing him away by his face to get to know his knight in shining armour.

“Have a good night, little buddy.” With another nod of acknowledgement, the handsome man makes no effort to sugarcoat the bluntness of his tone. He drops one boot backwards and moves to turn away.

Now, you haven’t been jealous of Georgie too many times in his life so far, and not many older siblings can say that. But on this occasion, you’ve barely been graced with two sentences and Georgie’s all of a sudden been awarded a nickname? — Not gravy.

“Thanks, again.” You call out in a moment of panic. It happens before you have a chance to develop something as cool as your exchange with Jake. Then again, Jake had seemed to want to speak to you. The Movie Star turns and looks at you over his shoulder, barely giving you a second of eye contact as acknowledgement as he plucks his cigarettes from his pocket.

They sure do smoke a lot for people surrounded by canvas and gas-guzzling generators.

“I really appreciate it.” You continue, cursing yourself, curling one hand into Georgie’s shirt as you follow after him. He closes his eyes, rolling them into the back of his skull as he hears you hurrying behind him. “He’s always wandering off.”

“No, I—“ Georgie struggles as your arm wraps around his scrawny shoulders, hugging him to your side and covering his mouth.

“Really, it was no sweat.” His lighter clicks open and ignites, then flips shut and disappears back into his pocket. Not so much as a look in your direction at this point.

You really should cut your losses and take Jake as your win — you can’t have them both anyway. The Movie Star’s lips almost twitch. Cut your losses and take Jake— he likes that.

“I didn’t see you in the show,” You continue anyway, something unnatural in the way you’re itching for him to so much as look in your direction. It’s been a while since you last saw action. “So, you like… work here?”

Idiot. You cringe, and even Georgie looks up at you in unimpressed wonder.

“You could call me security.” Smoke curls around him, leaving you five paces of dirt road behind. You make a face at him from behind. He’s not as friendly as the others, who have now emerged from the shadows to greet their fans. Instead, he walks ahead, skulking under the string lights like he’s silently hating them for illuminating him at all.

You cut your losses at once, stopping in his tracks, pursing your lips. Jerk.

Georgie struggles at your side and you’re reminded to let him go from the pseudo-headlock you’ve squeezed him into. The man of your dreams, the perfect movie star to fit into your Napa Valley retirement plans, disappears into the crowds of people.

You’re stuck on that day by the road. He had seemed into you then, grinning across at you like you were the bee’s knees, shooting you that easy-breezy peace sign. Maybe it was the halter top he liked.

“Can we go on the Ferris Wheel now?” Your younger brother reminds you of the real reason you’re supposed to be there, standing in the O’Malley’s south pasture past his bedtime. Flattening out your frown and sticking your fingers into his hair, you nod your head.

“Yeah. Come on, just don’t pee your pants.”

So, your Saturday night didn’t go exactly how you had pictured it. You’re not too sure what you were really expecting of the two guys you’d seen just once. But, your little brother is still grinning and talking a hundred miles a minute when you get back home that night, and that counts for something.

You’re perched on the kitchen counter, kicking your legs and snacking on a slice of sugar-sweet clementine. The waning light overhead almost makes you forget how dark it had been beside that Big Top — how you’d found Jake all alone.

“The I-75 thing didn’t work out?” Fred whispers to you, pressing a soft kiss to your hair as he pats your shoulder and passes by to drop his last beer bottle for the night into the recycling. You look back at him and smile while Georgie whittles on and on and on.

“Alright, alright,” Joan hushes, tucking her reading glasses into her hairline and giving up on her magazine to devote her attention to her youngest. “You can tell us all about it in the morning. I think you’d better head on up to bed for now.”

He closes his mouth and looks around the lemon yellow kitchen. Fred’s no help, and neither are you. He huffs and gives in to the idea of bedtime.

Dutifully, he hugs both of your parents tonight and heads for the hallway. He doesn’t head to bed before he has peered back around the doorframe and smiled back, thanking you for taking him.

The stairs groan, the hallway creeks and Georgie’s door wheezes shut. Everything about this house talks.

“Oh, I’m going to need my bag back for work on Monday, sweetheart.” Joan remembers, packing up her Cosmopolitan and dirty Martini set up from the kitchen table. Rollers in and green, mint-smelling face-mask smeared around her features, your mother has Saturday night rituals of her own.

And, you don’t have a bag.

You had one. You had taken your mother’s brown shoulder bag that she takes to work even though it fits a little more than a wallet and some keys on a good day. Shit, your wallet too.

“Sure.” You answer tightly. “Let me clear my stuff, you can have it tomorrow.”

The curiosities of a mother cross her mind, but a girl’s gotta have her secrets. She smiles and gives your bicep an affectionate squeeze as she heads for the stairs. “Okie dokie. Don’t be up too late.”

You wince at the thought of her bag being somewhere in that South pasture unattended, or gone by now. Probably rifled through. You hope there weren’t any receipts in there — she gets awfully protective about her receipts.

“Tell me the bag’s in the car.” Fred says from behind you as the groan of the stairs grows faint and the creeks of the hallway ready to start. You pivot cautiously towards him, still grimacing. He presses his lips into a line and shakes his head. “You’d best get out there and find it before she finds out, kiddo.”

“Mhm. Planning on it.” You answer with a sigh.

Really, it’s not such a bad thing, you think to yourself. You could go back there tomorrow without all those crowds, without Georgie. Maybe do the whole damsel in distress thing and see which one of them comes running with your misplaced bag.

Closing your eyes and twisting onto your side, you spot the pointed, red canvas top of the tent from your window. All of the neons are gone now, powered down for the night. They’re over there, just beyond the stretch of those woods. Jake, and the one who hates you.

…

NEXT CHAPTER

TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT

tags: @sunflowercharlie13 @spinning-away @eloquentdreamer-blog1 @a-reader-and-a-writer @breezyweazybeezy @mel119g @hersuitisbanana @one-sweet-gubler @atarmychick007 @ximehs @nnatel @topherwrites @seitmai @yepyeahuhhuh @cherrycola27 @ohtobeleah @roosterbruiser

[thankyougotham]

Billy Wheelan, Cory Michael Smith, Robin Lord Taylor, Dickie DiBella in Japan December-January 2019-2020 from Billy Wheelan’s Instagram

[dailysmaylor]

[desdemona-and-quotes]

Melchior: Love makes people do stupid things.

Anna: I love everything!

Melchior: That explains a lot.

[ourletsbeweirdtogether]

IMPORTANT (at the bottom of post)

Here’s a list of my favorite male artists:

Crushes

Nat Wolff

Johnny Simmons

Brendon Urie

Chris Pine

Andrew Garfield

Dane DeHaan

Nate Ruess

Blake Harnage

Ansel Elgort

Skylar Astin

Zachary Levi

Nicholas Hoult

Patrick Stump

George Ezra

Jay Baruchel

Brooks Wheelan

Top Favorite Artists

Will Ferrell

Jon Heder

Ryan Reynolds

Andy Samberg

Favorite Artists

Channing Tatum

Brad Goreski

Chris Colfer

Chris Hardwick

Zach Braff

Gaten Matarazzo

Finn Wolfhard

Caleb McLaughlin

Noah Schnapp

Charlie Heaton

Joe Keery

David Harbour

Dacre Montgomery

Sean Astin

Matthew Modine

Paul Reiser

Timothy Simons

Billy Eichner

Eric Andre

Topher Grace

Colin Hanks

John Krasinski

Seth Rogen

Tracy Morgan

Tituss Burgess

Marc Maron

Chris Lowell

Ted Danson

Chris Pratt

Artists I Want to Work With (I want to be an actress, so these are men I would like to do on-screen projects with)

Steve Carell

Nick Swardson

Adam Scott

Romany Malco

Craig T. Nelson

Johnny Weir (cameo)

Will Arnett

Nick Robinson

Dax Shepard

Skyler Gisondo

J. Harrison Ghee

Jack Cutmore-Scott

Pete Davidson

Craig Roberts

Walton Goggins

David Walton

Devon Bostick

Kyle Gallner

Robbie Amell

Ryan McCartan

Thomas Sadoski

Emile Hirsch (I know about the time at Sundance 2015 when he was drunk and hit that female producer, but he went to rehab and served his sentence so it wouldn’t happen again, that brought back my respect for him.)

Nathan Kress

Reid Scott

Bobby Cannavale

Michael Sheen

Adam DeVine

Max Greenfield

Sam Richardson

Johnny Knoxville

Dave Foley

Adam Pally

Ray Liotta

Tyler Posey

Johnny Galecki

Taran Killam

Miles Heizer

Thomas Mann

Glen Powell

Sebastian Stan

Tobey Maguire

Aaron Paul

Henry Zaga

Liam Hemsworth

Connor McGregor (cameo)

Mark Ruffalo

Matt Jones

Dylan Minnette

Tony Goldwyn

Jake Cannavale

Timothee Chalamet

Ben Feldman

Matt Dillon

Andre Braugher

These are men I love, adore, and cherish. I hope that none of them have not committed, and will not commit sexual assault/harassment/misconduct/rape/molestation/pedophilia. If all of them do or did, I will be extremely disappointed. Look, a lot of people in Hollywood have fucked up, and/or done some shit that takes us time to forgive, but sexual assault/harassment/misconduct/rape/molestation/ pedophilia is unforgivable! I hope that none of them are involved in this shit! PS I know that Gaten, Finn, Caleb, and Noah are kids, but I still hope they don’t get involved in this nightmare.

[edwardnashtons]

I'm the anon that asked about Cory and I looked through his Instagram and it answered my questions. It's actually quite obvious. I can't even fathom how someone could say he's homophobic. I have no idea where they came to that conclusion.

They came to that conclusion because they needed to scapegoat/demonize someone for the perceived downfall of nygmobblepot. Cory isn’t out, so he’s a great target. What a horrible straight man abusing poor gay Robin while the horrible straight character he plays abuses poor gay Oswald…

I hope you saw the picture of him and his friend Billy Wheelan on Cory’s birthday last year. It was so cute; there were two gay pride flags in the background and Cory was all tuckered out. Billy also hosted the cast’s viewing party for the midseason finale in his apartment. They’re adorable.

[ranciddream]

Live From New York...

Here is a list of all the people who have said LFNY and the number of times they have said it. (end of season 42). Also includes voice overs, prerecorded material and several specials.

- Darrell Hammond - 74

- Dana Carvey - 54

- Chevy Chase - 35

- Will Ferrell - 35

- Fred Armisen - 30

- Phil Hartman - 30

- Jason Sudeikis - 24

- Taran Killam - 23

- Kate McKinnon - 23

- Chris Parnell - 23

- Jay Pharoah - 23

- John Belushi - 21

- Tim Meadows - 21

- Kenan Thompson - 21

- Bobby Moynihan - 19

- Kristen Wiig - 19

- Dan Aykroyd - 18 

- Kevin Nealon - 18

- Alec Baldwin - 17

- Will Forte - 16

- Mike Myers - 15

- Gilda Radner - 15

- Bill Hader - 14

- Bill Murray - 14

- Amy Poehler - 14

- Joe Piscopo - 13

- Beck Bennett - 11

- Ana Gasteyer - 11

- Cecily Strong - 11

- Laraine Newman - 10

- Maya Rudolph - 10

- Horatio Sanz - 10

- Vanessa Bayer - 09  

- Rachel Dratch - 08

- Jimmy Fallon - 08

- Chris Farley - 08

- Tina Fey - 08

- Norm MacDonald - 08

- Garrett Morris - 08

- Molly Shannon - 08

- Billy Crystal - 07

- Jon Lovitz - 07

- Seth Meyers - 07

- Aidy Bryant - 06

- Eddie Murphy - 06

- Jane Curtin - 05

- Jan Hooks - 05

- Kyle Mooney - 05

- Nasim Pedrad - 05

- Charles Rocket - 05

- Andy Samberg - 05

- Rob Schneider - 05

- Sasheer Zamata - 05

- Jim Belushi - 04

- Larry David - 04

- Jim Downey - 04

- Chris Kattan - 04

- Steve Martin - 04

- Adam Sandler - 04

- Paul Shaffer - 04

- Julia Sweeney - 04

- Ellen Cleghorne - 03

- Pete Davidson - 03

- Mikey Day - 03

- Denny Dillon - 03

- Rudy Giuliani - 03

- Leslie Jones - 03

- Julia Louis-Dreyfus - 03

- Michael McKean - 03

- Mark McKinney - 03

- Tracy Morgan - 03

- Cheri Oteri - 03

- Chris Rock - 03

- Justin Timberlake - 03

- Robert DeNiro - 02

- Robert Downey Jr. - 02

- Abby Elliott - 02

- Al Franken - 02

- John Goodman - 02

- Gilbert Gottfried - 02

- Tom Hanks - 02

- Howard Hesseman - 02

- Melanie Hutsell - 02

- Dwayne Johnson - 02

- Gary Kroeger - 02

- John Lithgow - 02

- Madonna - 02

- Gail Matthius - 02

- Melissa McCarthy - 02

- Finesse Mitchell - 02

- Alex Moffat - 02

- Rick Moranis - 02

- Don Novello - 02

- Don Pardo - 01

- Randy Quaid - 02

- Ann Risley - 02

- Harry Shearer- 02

- David Spade - 02

- Paula Abdul - 01

- Ben Affleck - 01

- Rosanna Arquette - 01

- Drew Barrymore - 01

- Deb Blair - 01

- Jim Breuer - 01

- Paul Brittain - 01

- Matthew Broderick - 01

- A. Whitney Brown - 01

- Beth Cahill - 01

- John Candy - 01

- Robert Carlock - 01

- John Carpenter - 01

- Steve Carell - 01

- John Cleese - 01

- Hillary Clinton - 01

- Sacha Baron Cohen - 01

- Bryan Cranston - 01 

- Cindy Crawford - 01

- Connie Crawford - 01

- Macaulay Culkin - 01  

- Miley Cyrus - 01

- Rodney Dangerfield - 01

- Tom Davis - 01

- Danny DeVito - 01

- Mike Ditka - 01

- Joe Disco - 01

- Bob Dole - 01

- Michael Douglas - 01

- Robin Duke - 01

- Chris Elliott - 01

- Chris Evert - 01

- Siobhan Fallon - 01

- President Gerald Ford - 01

- Teri Garr - 01

- Sarah Michelle Gellar - 01

- Gina Gershon - 01

- Tom Gianas - 01

- Al Gore - 01

- Tipper Gore - 01

- Merv Griffin - 01

- Mary Gross

- Christopher Guest - 01

- Marvelous Marvin Hagler - 01

- Anthony Michael Hall - 01

- Rich Hall - 01

- Jon Hamm - 01

- Mark Harmon - 01

- George Harrison - 01

- Florence Henderson - 01

- Buck Henry - 01

- Pee-Wee Herman - 01

- Charlton Heston - 01

- Steve Higgins - 01

- Hulk Hogan - 01

- Dennis Hopper - 01

- Helen Hunt - 01

- Janet Jackson - 01

- Jesse Jackson - 01

- Victoria Jackson - 01

- Mick Jagger - 01

- Scarlett Johansson - 01

- Carolyn Kepcher - 01

- Sam Kinison - 01

- Richard Kneip - 01

- Ed Koch - 01

- Queen Latifah - 01

- Jay Leno - 01

- David Lewis - 01

- Jerry Lewis - 01

- Monica Lewinsky - 01

- Lindsay Lohan - 01

- Ron Luciano - 01

- Tobey Maguire - 01

- Joe Mantegna - 01

- John McCain - 01

- John McLaughlin - 01

- Vince McMahon - 01

- Lorne Michaels - 01

- Dennis Miller- 01

- Mr. T - 01

- Ralph Nader - 01

- Lori Nasso - 01

- Liam Neeson - 01

- New York City Children’s Chorus - 01

- President Barack Obama - 01

- Michael Palin - 01

- Sarah Palin - 01  

- George Pataki - 01

- Walter Payton - 01

- Paula Pell - 01

- Sean Penn - 01

- Joe Perry - 01

- Brad Pitt - 01

- Mary Kay Place - 01

- Jason Priestley - 01

- Colin Quinn - 01

- Ron Reagan - 01

- Jeff Renaudo - 01

- Jeff Richards - 01

- Dennis Rodman - 01

- Linda Ronstadt - 01

- Jon Rudnitsky - 01

- Fred Savage - 01

- Charles Schumer - 01

- Arnold Schwarzenegger - 01

- Stephanie Seymour - 01

- Al Sharpton - 01

- William Shatner - 01

- Michael Shoemaker - 01

- Martin Short - 01

- Paul Simon - 01

- Robert Smigel - 01

- Dick Smothers - 01

- Tom Smothers - 01

- Sissy Spacek - 01

- Miskel Spillman - 01

- Ringo Starr - 01  

- George Steinbrenner - 01

- Julia Stiles - 01

- Ben Stiller - 01  

- Patrick Swayze - 01

- Fran Tarkenton - 01

- Lily Tomlin - 01

- Toonces

- John Travolta

- Steven Tyler - 01

- Unidentified English Milkman - 01

- Danitra Vance - 01

- Nancy Walls - 01

- Christopher Walken - 01

- Damon Wayans - 01

- Noel Wells - 01

- Brooks Wheelan - 01

- Betty White - 01

- Robin Williams - 01

- Flip Wilson - 01

- Oprah Winfrey - 01

- Fred Wolf - 01

[deltamovies]

Battle of the Sexes Free Full HD watch online & movie trailer

Release Year: 2017

Critic's Score: /100

Director: Jonathan Dayton

Stars: Emma Stone, Elisabeth Shue, Jessica McNamee

Storyline The true story of the 1973 tennis match between World number one Billie Jean King and ex-champ and serial hustler Bobby Riggs.

Cast: Emma Stone –

Billie Jean King

Elisabeth Shue –

Priscilla Wheelan

Jessica McNamee –

Margaret Court

Steve Carell –

Bobby Riggs

Sarah Silverman –

Gladys Heldman

Andrea Riseborough –

Marilyn Barnett

Alan Cumming –

Ted Tinling

Eric Christian Olsen –

Lornie Kuhle

Natalie Morales –

Rosie Casals

Martha MacIsaac –

Jane 'Peaches' Bartkowicz

Austin Stowell –

Larry King

Wallace Langham –

Henry

Mickey Sumner –

Valerie Ziegenfuss

Mark Harelik –

Hank Greenberg

Bob Stephenson –

Bobby's Publicist

Country: UK, USA

Language: English

Release Date: 3 Jan 2017

Filming Locations: Los Angeles, California, USA

Did You Know?

Trivia: Emma Stone was initially cast as Billie Jean King, but scheduling issues forced her to pass on the role. Brie Larson was ultimately tapped to replace Stone. However, after a few months, Larson dropped out and after Stone's schedule was cleared, she was able to take back the role. See more »

The post Battle of the Sexes appeared first on The Movie Entertainment of the 21st Century!.

from http://ift.tt/2lvRIkU

[weaponizedmoth]

Hi, your Pete and Billy illustrations were so adorable, I was wondering if you might be willing to draw them again? Maybe in matching pajama sets. I mean absolutely no pressure! I kinda imagine you’ve been swarmed with these requests

Absolutely I'll draw them again!

“they're supposed to be oversized!” “Not like this!”

(He ordered a size small, but he's stupid. SAD well there's other computer guys...)

And still they rest (but not together cause they are NOT in a relationship ofc):

[dailysmaylor]

billywheelan Thanks @corymichaelsmith for taking me to the #brooklynnets game. #courtside [x]

[deltamovies]

Battle of the Sexes Free Full HD watch online & movie trailer

Release Year: 2017

Critic's Score: /100

Director: Jonathan Dayton

Stars: Emma Stone, Elisabeth Shue, Jessica McNamee

Storyline The true story of the 1973 tennis match between World number one Billie Jean King and ex-champ and serial hustler Bobby Riggs.

Cast: Emma Stone –

Billie Jean King

Elisabeth Shue –

Priscilla Wheelan

Jessica McNamee –

Margaret Court

Steve Carell –

Bobby Riggs

Sarah Silverman –

Gladys Heldman

Andrea Riseborough –

Marilyn Barnett

Alan Cumming –

Ted Tinling

Eric Christian Olsen –

Lornie Kuhle

Natalie Morales –

Rosie Casals

Martha MacIsaac –

Jane 'Peaches' Bartkowicz

Austin Stowell –

Larry King

Wallace Langham –

Henry

Mickey Sumner –

Valerie Ziegenfuss

Mark Harelik –

Hank Greenberg

Bob Stephenson –

Bobby's Publicist

Country: UK, USA

Language: English

Release Date: 3 Jan 2017

Filming Locations: Los Angeles, California, USA

Did You Know?

Trivia: Emma Stone was initially cast as Billie Jean King, but scheduling issues forced her to pass on the role. Brie Larson was ultimately tapped to replace Stone. However, after a few months, Larson dropped out and after Stone's schedule was cleared, she was able to take back the role. See more »

The post Battle of the Sexes appeared first on The Movie Entertainment of the 21st Century!.

from http://ift.tt/2svPqIo

[deltamovies]

Battle of the Sexes Free Full HD watch online & movie trailer

Release Year: 2017

Critic's Score: /100

Director: Jonathan Dayton

Stars: Emma Stone, Elisabeth Shue, Jessica McNamee

Storyline The true story of the 1973 tennis match between World number one Billie Jean King and ex-champ and serial hustler Bobby Riggs.

Cast: Emma Stone –

Billie Jean King

Elisabeth Shue –

Priscilla Wheelan

Jessica McNamee –

Margaret Court

Steve Carell –

Bobby Riggs

Sarah Silverman –

Gladys Heldman

Andrea Riseborough –

Marilyn Barnett

Alan Cumming –

Ted Tinling

Eric Christian Olsen –

Lornie Kuhle

Natalie Morales –

Rosie Casals

Martha MacIsaac –

Jane 'Peaches' Bartkowicz

Austin Stowell –

Larry King

Wallace Langham –

Henry

Mickey Sumner –

Valerie Ziegenfuss

Mark Harelik –

Hank Greenberg

Bob Stephenson –

Bobby's Publicist

Country: UK, USA

Language: English

Release Date: 3 Jan 2017

Filming Locations: Los Angeles, California, USA

Did You Know?

Trivia: Emma Stone was initially cast as Billie Jean King, but scheduling issues forced her to pass on the role. Brie Larson was ultimately tapped to replace Stone. However, after a few months, Larson dropped out and after Stone's schedule was cleared, she was able to take back the role. See more »

The post Battle of the Sexes appeared first on The Movie Entertainment of the 21st Century!.

from http://ift.tt/2svPqIo

[deltamovies]

Battle of the Sexes Free Full HD watch online & movie trailer

Release Year: 2017

Critic's Score: /100

Director: Jonathan Dayton

Stars: Emma Stone, Elisabeth Shue, Jessica McNamee

Storyline The true story of the 1973 tennis match between World number one Billie Jean King and ex-champ and serial hustler Bobby Riggs.

Cast: Emma Stone –

Billie Jean King

Elisabeth Shue –

Priscilla Wheelan

Jessica McNamee –

Margaret Court

Steve Carell –

Bobby Riggs

Sarah Silverman –

Gladys Heldman

Andrea Riseborough –

Marilyn Barnett

Alan Cumming –

Ted Tinling

Eric Christian Olsen –

Lornie Kuhle

Natalie Morales –

Rosie Casals

Martha MacIsaac –

Jane 'Peaches' Bartkowicz

Austin Stowell –

Larry King

Wallace Langham –

Henry

Mickey Sumner –

Valerie Ziegenfuss

Mark Harelik –

Hank Greenberg

Bob Stephenson –

Bobby's Publicist

Country: UK, USA

Language: English

Release Date: 3 Jan 2017

Filming Locations: Los Angeles, California, USA

Did You Know?

Trivia: Emma Stone was initially cast as Billie Jean King, but scheduling issues forced her to pass on the role. Brie Larson was ultimately tapped to replace Stone. However, after a few months, Larson dropped out and after Stone's schedule was cleared, she was able to take back the role. See more »

The post Battle of the Sexes appeared first on The Movie Entertainment of the 21st Century!.

from http://ift.tt/2svPqIo

[ranciddream]

Here is a list of all the people who have said LFNY and the number of times they have said it. (end of season 41). Also includes voice overs, prerecorded material and several specials.

- Darrell Hammond - 74

- Dana Carvey - 54

- Chevy Chase - 35

- Will Ferrell - 35

- Fred Armisen - 30

- Phil Hartman - 30

- Jason Sudeikis - 24

- Taran Killam - 23

- Chris Parnell - 23

- Jay Pharoah - 23

- John Belushi - 21

- Tim Meadows - 21

- Kenan Thompson - 20

- Kristen Wiig - 19

- Dan Aykroyd - 18

- Bobby Moynihan - 18

- Kevin Nealon - 18

- Will Forte - 16

- Kate McKinnon - 15

- Mike Myers - 15

- Gilda Radner - 15

- Bill Hader - 14

- Bill Murray - 14

- Amy Poehler - 14

- Joe Piscopo - 13

- Ana Gasteyer - 11

- Laraine Newman - 10

- Maya Rudolph - 10

- Horatio Sanz - 10

- Cecily Strong - 10

- Vanessa Bayer - 09  

- Rachel Dratch - 08

- Chris Farley - 08

- Tina Fey - 08

- Norm MacDonald - 08

- Garrett Morris - 08

- Molly Shannon - 08

- Beck Bennett - 07

- Billy Crystal - 07

- Jimmy Fallon - 07

- Jon Lovitz - 07

- Seth Meyers - 07

- Eddie Murphy - 06

- Aidy Bryant - 05

- Jane Curtin - 05

- Jan Hooks - 05

- Kyle Mooney - 05

- Nasim Pedrad - 05

- Charles Rocket - 05

- Andy Samberg - 05

- Rob Schneider - 05

- Sasheer Zamata - 05

- Jim Belushi - 04

- Larry David - 04

- Jim Downey - 04

- Chris Kattan - 04

- Steve Martin - 04

- Adam Sandler - 04

- Paul Shaffer - 04

- Julia Sweeney - 04

- Alec Baldwin - 03

- Ellen Cleghorne - 03

- Pete Davidson - 03

- Denny Dillon - 03

- Rudy Giuliani - 03

- Leslie Jones - 03

- Julia Louis-Dreyfus - 03

- Michael McKean - 03

- Mark McKinney - 03

- Tracy Morgan - 03

- Cheri Oteri - 03

- Chris Rock - 03

- Justin Timberlake - 03

- Robert DeNiro - 02

- Robert Downey Jr. - 02

- Abby Elliott - 02

- Al Franken - 02

- Gilbert Gottfried - 02

- Tom Hanks - 02

- Howard Hesseman - 02

- Melanie Hutsell - 02

- Dwayne Johnson - 02

- Gary Kroeger - 02

- John Lithgow - 02

- Madonna - 02

- Gail Matthius - 02

- Finesse Mitchell - 02

- Rick Moranis - 02

- Don Novello - 02

- Don Pardo - 01

- Randy Quaid - 02

- Ann Risley - 02

- Harry Shearer- 02

- David Spade - 02

- Paula Abdul - 01

- Ben Affleck - 01

- Rosanna Arquette - 01

- Drew Barrymore - 01

- Deb Blair - 01

- Jim Breuer - 01

- Paul Brittain - 01

- Matthew Broderick - 01

- A. Whitney Brown - 01

- Beth Cahill - 01

- John Candy - 01

- Robert Carlock - 01

- John Carpenter - 01

- Steve Carell - 01

- John Cleese - 01

- Hillary Clinton - 01

- Sacha Baron Cohen - 01

- Cindy Crawford - 01

- Connie Crawford - 01

- Macaulay Culkin - 01  

- Miley Cyrus - 01

- Rodney Dangerfield - 01

- Tom Davis - 01

- Danny DeVito - 01

- Mike Ditka - 01

- Joe Disco - 01

- Bob Dole - 01

- Michael Douglas - 01

- Robin Duke - 01

- Chris Elliott - 01

- Chris Evert - 01

- Siobhan Fallon - 01

- President Gerald Ford - 01

- Teri Garr - 01

- Sarah Michelle Gellar - 01

- Gina Gershon - 01

- Tom Gianas - 01

- John Goodman - 01

- Al Gore - 01

- Tipper Gore - 01

- Merv Griffin - 01

- Mary Gross

- Christopher Guest - 01

- Marvelous Marvin Hagler - 01

- Anthony Michael Hall - 01

- Rich Hall - 01

- Jon Hamm - 01

- Mark Harmon - 01

- George Harrison - 01

- Florence Henderson - 01

- Buck Henry - 01

- Pee-Wee Herman - 01

- Charlton Heston - 01

- Steve Higgins - 01

- Hulk Hogan - 01

- Dennis Hopper - 01

- Helen Hunt - 01

- Janet Jackson - 01

- Jesse Jackson - 01

- Victoria Jackson - 01

- Mick Jagger - 01

- Carolyn Kepcher - 01

- Sam Kinison - 01

- Richard Kneip - 01

- Ed Koch - 01

- Queen Latifah - 01

- Jay Leno - 01

- David Lewis - 01

- Jerry Lewis - 01

- Monica Lewinsky - 01

- Lindsay Lohan - 01

- Ron Luciano - 01

- Tobey Maguire - 01

- Joe Mantegna - 01

- John McCain - 01

- Melissa McCarthy - 01

- John McLaughlin - 01

- Vince McMahon - 01

- Lorne Michaels - 01

- Dennis Miller- 01

- Mr. T - 01

- Ralph Nader - 01

- Lori Nasso - 01

- Liam Neeson - 01

- New York City Children’s Chorus - 01

- President Barack Obama - 01

- Michael Palin - 01

- Sarah Palin - 01  

- George Pataki - 01

- Walter Payton - 01

- Paula Pell - 01

- Sean Penn - 01

- Joe Perry - 01

- Brad Pitt - 01

- Mary Kay Place - 01

- Jason Priestley - 01

- Colin Quinn - 01

- Ron Reagan - 01

- Jeff Renaudo - 01

- Jeff Richards - 01

- Dennis Rodman - 01

- Linda Ronstadt - 01

- Jon Rudnitsky - 01

- Fred Savage - 01

- Charles Schumer - 01

- Arnold Schwarzenegger - 01

- Stephanie Seymour - 01

- Al Sharpton - 01

- William Shatner - 01

- Michael Shoemaker - 01

- Martin Short - 01

- Paul Simon - 01

- Robert Smigel - 01

- Dick Smothers - 01

- Tom Smothers - 01

- Sissy Spacek - 01

- Miskel Spillman - 01

- Ringo Starr - 01  

- George Steinbrenner - 01

- Julia Stiles - 01

- Ben Stiller - 01  

- Patrick Swayze - 01

- Fran Tarkenton - 01

- Lily Tomlin - 01

- Toonces

- John Travolta

- Steven Tyler - 01

- Unidentified English Milkman - 01

- Danitra Vance - 01

- Nancy Walls - 01

- Christopher Walken - 01

- Damon Wayans - 01

- Noel Wells - 01

- Brooks Wheelan - 01

- Betty White - 01

- Robin Williams - 01

- Flip Wilson - 01

- Oprah Winfrey - 01

- Fred Wolf - 01

[ranciddream]

Here is a list of all the people who have said LFNY and the number of times they have said it. (As of May 16, 2015). Also includes voice overs, prerecorded material and several specials.

- Darrell Hammond - 71

- Dana Carvey - 53

- Chevy Chase - 35

- Will Ferrell - 34

- Fred Armisen - 30

- Phil Hartman - 30

- Chris Parnell - 23

- Jason Sudeikis - 23

- John Belushi - 21

- Tim Meadows - 21

- Jay Pharoah - 21

- Kenan Thompson - 20

- Kristen Wiig - 19

- Dan Aykroyd - 18

- Kevin Nealon - 18

- Will Forte - 16

- Taran Killam - 16

- Mike Myers - 15

- Gilda Radner - 15

- Bill Hader - 14

- Bobby Moynihan - 14

- Bill Murray - 14

- Amy Poehler - 14

- Joe Piscopo - 13

- Ana Gasteyer - 11

- Laraine Newman - 10

- Maya Rudolph - 10

- Horatio Sanz - 10

- Kate McKinnon - 09

- Rachel Dratch - 08

- Chris Farley - 08

- Norm MacDonald - 08

- Garrett Morris - 08

- Molly Shannon - 08

- Billy Crystal - 07

- Jimmy Fallon - 07

- Tina Fey - 07

- Jon Lovitz - 07

- Seth Meyers - 07

- Vanessa Bayer - 06

- Beck Bennett - 06

- Eddie Murphy - 06

- Cecily Strong - 06

- Jane Curtin - 05

- Jan Hooks - 05

- Nasim Pedrad - 05

- Charles Rocket - 05

- Andy Samberg - 05

- Rob Schneider - 05

- Jim Belushi - 04

- Aidy Bryant - 04

- Jim Downey - 04

- Chris Kattan - 04

- Steve Martin - 04

- Adam Sandler - 04

- Paul Shaffer - 04

- Julia Sweeney - 04

- Sasheer Zamata - 04

- Alec Baldwin - 03

- Ellen Cleghorne - 03

- Denny Dillon - 03

- Rudy Giuliani - 03

- Michael McKean - 03

- Mark McKinney - 03

- Kyle Mooney - 03

- Tracy Morgan - 03

- Cheri Oteri - 03

- Chris Rock - 03

- Justin Timberlake - 03

- Pete Davidson - 02

- Robert DeNiro - 02

- Robert Downey Jr. - 02

- Abby Elliott - 02

- Al Franken - 02

- Gilbert Gottfried - 02

- Tom Hanks - 02

- Howard Hesseman - 02

- Melanie Hutsell - 02

- Dwayne Johnson - 02

- Leslie Jones - 02

- Gary Kroeger - 02

- John Lithgow - 02

- Julia Louis-Dreyfus - 02

- Madonna - 02

- Gail Matthius - 02

- Finesse Mitchell - 02

- Rick Moranis - 02

- Don Novello - 02

- Don Pardo - 01

- Randy Quaid - 02

- Ann Risley - 02

- Harry Shearer- 02

- David Spade - 02

- Paula Abdul - 01

- Ben Affleck - 01

- Rosanna Arquette - 01

- Drew Barrymore - 01

- Deb Blair - 01

- Jim Breuer - 01

- Paul Brittain - 01

- Matthew Broderick - 01

- A. Whitney Brown - 01

- Beth Cahill - 01

- John Candy - 01

- Robert Carlock - 01

- John Carpenter - 01

- Steve Carell - 01

- John Cleese - 01

- Hillary Clinton - 01

- Sacha Baron Cohen - 01

- Cindy Crawford - 01

- Connie Crawford - 01

- Macaulay Culkin - 01  

- Miley Cyrus - 01

- Rodney Dangerfield - 01

- Tom Davis - 01

- Danny DeVito - 01

- Mike Ditka - 01

- Joe Disco - 01

- Bob Dole - 01

- Michael Douglas - 01

- Robin Duke - 01

- Chris Elliott - 01

- Chris Evert - 01

- Siobhan Fallon - 01

- President Gerald Ford - 01

- Teri Garr - 01

- Sarah Michelle Gellar - 01

- Gina Gershon - 01

- Tom Gianas - 01

- John Goodman - 01

- Al Gore - 01

- Tipper Gore - 01

- Merv Griffin - 01

- Mary Gross

- Christopher Guest - 01

- Marvelous Marvin Hagler - 01

- Anthony Michael Hall - 01

- Rich Hall - 01

- Jon Hamm - 01

- Mark Harmon - 01

- George Harrison - 01

- Florence Henderson - 01

- Buck Henry - 01

- Pee-Wee Herman - 01

- Charlton Heston - 01

- Steve Higgins - 01

- Hulk Hogan - 01

- Dennis Hopper - 01

- Helen Hunt - 01

- Janet Jackson - 01

- Jesse Jackson - 01

- Victoria Jackson - 01

- Mick Jagger - 01

- Carolyn Kepcher - 01

- Sam Kinison - 01

- Richard Kneip - 01

- Ed Koch - 01

- Queen Latifah - 01

- Jay Leno - 01

- David Lewis - 01

- Jerry Lewis - 01

- Monica Lewinsky - 01

- Lindsay Lohan - 01

- Ron Luciano - 01

- Tobey Maguire - 01

- Joe Mantegna - 01

- John McCain - 01

- Melissa McCarthy - 01

- John McLaughlin - 01

- Vince McMahon - 01

- Lorne Michaels - 01

- Dennis Miller- 01

- Mr. T - 01

- Ralph Nader - 01

- Lori Nasso - 01

- Liam Neeson - 01

- New York City Children’s Chorus - 01

- President Barack Obama - 01

- Michael Palin - 01

- Sarah Palin - 01  

- George Pataki - 01

- Walter Payton - 01

- Paula Pell - 01

- Sean Penn - 01

- Joe Perry - 01

- Brad Pitt - 01

- Mary Kay Place - 01

- Jason Priestley - 01

- Colin Quinn - 01

- Ron Reagan - 01

- Jeff Renaudo - 01

- Jeff Richards - 01

- Dennis Rodman - 01

- Linda Ronstadt - 01

- Fred Savage - 01

- Charles Schumer - 01

- Arnold Schwarzenegger - 01

- Stephanie Seymour - 01

- Al Sharpton - 01

- William Shatner - 01

- Michael Shoemaker - 01

- Martin Short - 01

- Paul Simon - 01

- Robert Smigel - 01

- Dick Smothers - 01

- Tom Smothers - 01

- Sissy Spacek - 01

- Miskel Spillman - 01

- Ringo Starr - 01  

- George Steinbrenner - 01

- Julia Stiles - 01

- Ben Stiller - 01  

- Patrick Swayze - 01

- Fran Tarkenton - 01

- Lily Tomlin - 01

- Toonces

- John Travolta

- Steven Tyler - 01

- Unidentified English Milkman - 01

- Danitra Vance - 01

- Nancy Walls - 01

- Christopher Walken - 01

- Damon Wayans - 01

- Noel Wells - 01

- Brooks Wheelan - 01

- Betty White - 01

- Robin Williams - 01

- Flip Wilson - 01

- Oprah Winfrey - 01

- Fred Wolf - 01