#rdr1 bill

[rosesvineyard]

a bit of a late post but THANK YOU SO MUCHHH for everyone that participated/liked or was interested in willscuella may!!!!!! waking up to see them every day was such an unexplainable joy and everyone is so very talented 😢❤️❤️

[thebrokengate]

Thinking about Bill and Javier, the two still most blindly loyal people to Dutch by the time of the downfall of the gang, who questioned between each other who the rat could be, who will walk around camp in chapter 6 constantly calling others out for doubting Dutch or defending him against everyone else right in front of him,

then being the ones to absolutely nope the fuck out at the first chance they got to flee after the Pinkertons' invasion of the gang's final stand, so quickly to the point that they never even showed up as enemies on the mini map nor appeared in the mission ever again.

(credit to Novice on YouTube for pointing this out that they completely disappear as soon as the shooting starts)

Almost like they took the bare bones idea of Dutch and Micah's plan without the "going back to Blackwater" part of it.

No one asked about them afterwards; they left seemingly completely unnoticed in all the chaos going on.

It becomes a pattern of behavior for Javier that leads into RDR1 where he's only loyal to people until it interferes with his instinct for self-survival which goes above all else

And for Bill, when John comes looking for him, Bill's choice to desert Dutch comes back as resentment toward John for not saving him, forcing Bill into making the autonomous choice for himself to get out

But it's just as John says,

Bill took pride in following Dutch just as much as he took pride in the future over running his own gang, but it was also fear that kept him with Dutch so long because he saw no better option - nor did Javier. Dutch always saw them right, so they thought, and he would do it again. But it wasn't until that night of the final separation of the gang where everyone took their side that they both realized the truth, it seemed. They did, in the end, do what Arthur told them:

Dutch wasn't going to see them right this time and the proof was upon them by the arrival of the Pinkertons. They thought for themselves, and they ran.

[nthspecialll]

Okay yall having sex with men as a man is no longer gay

[kkwt00]

"Bill treated Javier so bad!!!"

Did we fuckin played the same game?????????

Yeah, Bill is not the best, he's...baaad at social interactions, that's for sure. And yep he's not the sweetest, not politest man, sure thing

But saying that Bill treated Javier so bad, while Javier LITERALLY his only one friend in the whole fuckin gang, when he took care of him at Guarma, how Bill PRAISED Javier, how they're constantly around eachother, and how they STAYED TOGETHER EVEN AFTER THE WHOLE GANG FELL APART, how they helped eachother in rdr1, IS CRAZY

Like, open your eyes, will you?

It's deeper than just two arguments between them, look a lil deeper than the fuckin surface

[bigboy-lovers-unite-writes]

some general bill Williamson hcs?

Man I just recently realized how big of a goddamn forehead bill has (it's okay we still love him)

•We all known he drinks alot, his favorite drink would probably be some generic shit like beer or some sort of plain alcohol, not too much but just enough to get the job done

•probably a repressed bisexual, I mean dude.. we see the way you act in RDR1 AND 2‼️‼️‼️ Probably repeats 'a hole is a goal, no matter what' if he ever does that with either gender 🙏

•Feel like he throws his glass bottles into the campfire if he's extra sassy and drunk, making Sean start raising hell to piss him off even more

•Can barely tolerate anyone in the gang, he definitely hates Javier especially during that one camp interaction where Bill gets forced on his knees.. how sad.. 💔💔

•Probably tried to get jack to try some of his alcohol in the middle of the day. His thought process? He was younger than Jack when he first had alcohol! John absolutely chewed his ass out, but Abigail did it better than John (bill is probably scared of abigail ngl)

•Feel like he gets flustered so easily, but just swats whoever made him blush away. Might throw his beer bottle at them if he's feeling like being extra bitchy fr

•STANKS. REEKS. Stains any color of clothing he wears with the sheer amount of sweat that he produces. It'll be the middle of winter and this mf will be pouring sweat down his entire body. He definitely leaves sweat spots whenever he gets up 💔

•Deep meaningful conversations with his horse, if he ever gets one or whoever his horse is 😔 drunk off his ass and sitting in the stables, (Kieran is probably in there hiding with Branwen), and Bill is giving his life story to a horse who just wants a carrot

•Wakes up with leg pain. Like the kinda pain you had as a kid during growth sports, like that basically, but almost every day all day (I'd be crabby too like that if I dealt with that)

•He would've loved getting drunk and high 💔

[zanazirafanfic]

Teaser: "La Fiebre" (WIP)

Here is a teaser for my next fic, which I'm hoping to finish either today or tomorrow.

This time it's Willscuella / Escuelliamson, as requested by Anon. (My first foray into the world of Bill x Javier, wooooo!)

It's got some fluff, as requested, but with a sprinkling of illness and angst (because it's me, and I can't resist. 😁)

[Teaser below the cut]

"He's comin' for us, y'know." Bill's voice was a low rasp, rough and painful. In the eerie silence that enveloped their cramped, ragged tent, it might as well have been a shout.

Javier didn't answer, nor did he look up from the wooden bowl full of willow bark balanced precariously on his right thigh. On the left sat a small bushel of the butterfly weed which grew in abundance around El Ojo del Diablo. With a bit of work, they would soon be turned into a poultice and a medicinal tea. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

"John. He's... he's comin' for us," Bill repeated, trying and failing to push himself up on shaking arms as if that would help get his point across better. "He's in Mexico now, Javier, he -"

"Sí, Bill, lo sé," he muttered in exasperation, laying his palm on the older man's chest and pushing him down onto his bedroll again. It was far easier than it should have been, and the realization that Bill was still about as weak as a kitten even after three days of nothing but rest brought him no comfort at all. "But he ain't gonna find us tonight, tonto, so shut up and let me work."

[neon-junkie]

Can I request a bill Williamson oneshot where his high honour s/o sacrifices herself to save him?

oh my god im posting so much angst today ;-; here’s another piece that made me cry whilst i was writing it. What... if Bill.... was stood where Sean was during that mission... o_o  Gender-neutral as always, and death warning!

You saw the glisten of the scope up on one of the shops in Rhodes, and without thinking, you pushed Bill to the ground, yourself falling on top of him. But the sound of gunfire echoed throughout the empty streets, and there was a sudden pain in your chest. As Bill stood back up, you rolled off him, your back hitting the dusty streets that slowly began turning red. Your eyes were on Bill the whole time, and you saw his face drop as he turned to pick you up, but quickly realized what had happened. Bill went to say something, but the sound of gunshots cut him off. He was quick to throw you over his shoulder and find cover, leaving the others to deal with the mess. He had his own mess to deal with.

"What you gone and done that for?" Bill began to sob as he laid you down against the cool bricks of one of the buildings. It was probably not cold, but on your back and the wound, it felt like ice. Everything did, your world was quickly fading as the lights began to darken. "It would have been you," you tell him. There's a strain to your voice, like someone's standing on your throat, and it definitely feels like someone is too. "It should have been me!" Bill snaps, though you know he doesn't mean to get angry with you. He's not, he's angry at himself, the situation, the bastard that shot you, everything. "You.." Bill starts to speak but his eyes trail south, looking at the hole in your chest. He wants to tell you that you'll be fine, but you both know you're not going to make it. "I love you," you tell him. His eyes snap back up to yours, tears pouring from them. He feels like it's all his fault, like he's the one who shot you. "Now, you... you don't..." Bill mutters. He wants to tell you not to say that because he can't bear to hear it for the last time. He never thought you'd leave this quickly. He always thought you'd be the one burying him, not the other way around. "I love you too," Bill says through thick sobs. His hands are holding yours, but they move so he can cradle you in his lap, sitting on the floor with his back facing the fight that's still happening along the street. "I'm proud of you, Bill," you tell him as you look up at him, though your eyes feel so heavy. You want to shut them, but you're not ready to leave yet. "Don't you say that," Bill cries. "Why? I mean it," you reply. You try your hardest to move your hand up to cup his cheek, but everything feels so heavy, so cold, so dark. Bill notices your struggle and takes your hand in his, placing it exactly where you wanted. Despite the numbness in your limbs, you can faintly feel the roughness of his beard, and his smooth cheek as your thumb brushes over it. "Be good, Bill. Don't get into too much trouble," you tell him. You know what he's like. There's been far too many times that you've bailed him out of fights of all sorts, but without you around, you worry that he's only going to snap back into what he formerly was. "I won't," Bill pouts, holding your hand firmly against his cheek as he melts into your touch for the last time. Bill leans down to place a kiss on your forehead. As his lips touch your skin, your eyes fall shut. Bill realizes you're gone when he lifts his head back up, noticing the gentle smile on your face. The muscles in your arm relax, though Bill continues to hold your palm against his jawline. He doesn't notice the gunshots coming to a halt, or the sounds of familiar people approaching him, but he does feel the weight of Arthurs hand as he places it on his shoulder. Bill buries you by himself, rejecting the help the others offer. He wants some time alone, he needs some time alone. He spends the night by your grave, taking his time to carve your name and a little message underneath on the wooden headboard. His body is itching for a drink, but for once, he feels sick at the thought of it. He doesn't want to risk becoming like his father, forgetting about those he loves the most, and eventually losing himself in the liquor. He'd never risk losing the thoughts of you. So instead he pitches his tent and lingers beside you, Brown Jack nestled down beside him. Bill goes over everything in his head: how you met, the moment the flirting started, how he felt when you first kissed, the way you looked at him when he told you he loves you for the first time. He allows himself to cry, mostly because he physically can't hold the tears in. He wants to feel like it's all his fault, but he can hear your voice telling him off for thinking that way. He's got to try and follow your teachings, to continue the path you were leading him down, even if your hand isn't physically in his anymore. Bill tried his best, he really did, but his mind became foggy the second you were taken from him. He fell back on his ways, this time sinking deeper than before. Bill's fueled by anger and spite, though he's still never touched a drop of alcohol, and at least he has that to be proud of. It's quiet for once. Fort Mercer feels empty, despite his men covering the inner walls, their voices echoing off the stone that surrounds them. Bill's up in his room, his feet up on the desk as he goes through some old mementos of his. John visited earlier. Well, not really visited. He came out of nowhere and tried to reason with Bill, but Bill stopped trusting him many years ago. He may be stupid, but he's not a fool. Bill just felt like he needed to go through his things. He wasn't scared of the encounter, but his heart was telling him to do so. He stores his stuff in a tatty old trunk in his room, one that was left here when the Fort was last in use. The items are now scattered on his desk, and Bill's going through them one at a time. He picks up an envelope with a small amount of thickness to it. Upon opening it, his heart drops. He knew he'd come across these sooner or later, but despite the sickly feeling growing in his stomach, he's glad he's looked over them again. They're photos from the camp that Arthur once took. He'd given the handful to you after getting them all developed. The photos are of you and Bill, all taken on different days over the months that had passed when the gang was out in the East.   Bill can feel his bottom lip shaking, and he has to keep wiping the tears from his eyes so he can focus on you. You look so happy, and Bill wants to smack his former self from looking so grumpy all the time. There's a few that Arthur had taken in secret, where Bills trying his best to flirt with you but looking rathered flustered, and another where the two of you are cuddled up at the campfire. Bill hasn't visited your grave in a long time. He rarely leaves Fort Mercer, and hasn't been that way in just over seven years. He wants to, he'd love to see your grave again, but he's so heavily wanted that he'd barely make it past Blackwater. He knows he'll probably see you soon, especially after what happened today. Bill knows his end is soon approaching, and he'll be reunited with you before the year is over. He realizes that he's not felt much since you were taken from him. Sure, he's felt anger and sadness, but no happiness, no warmth or joy. Bill's become a hollow shell, numb and empty, fueled by those emotions that you managed to drown out of him all those years ago. He feels ashamed. Bill's let you down. When you left, you told him to be good, and he's been far from that. Bill realizes all the things he's done over the years, the chaos he's created and sickly enjoyed. He shouldn't have to rely on another person to fix him, but you began doing that without him realizing it. It's too late now. You're probably waiting at the gates of heaven to slap him for being such a fool when he arrives, though Bill knows he's going straight to hell, maybe even lower than that, if all that nonsense exists anyway. He still remembers the little message he carved onto your headboard all those years ago, a message that's stayed true to him every single day since. 'My warmth disappeared when I lost you.'

[rosesvineyard]

apple trend thingy with them... if you squint you can see the 'dear bill' letter... oh my god i love making myself sad don't i