#beth's stories

[poguelandia]

A CINDERELLA STORY 2004 | dir. by Mark Rosman

[heavenlymorals]

I feel like a lot of people forget that the Van Dir Linde gang was actually famous in their universe- Dutch Van Dir Linde was as famous as the real life Butch Cassidy. The gang had as much infamy as the Wild Bunch or the Dalton gang. Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Bill Williamson, Javier Esculla, Lenny Summers, Charles Smith, Sean McGuire and more were probably as famous as the real life Doc Holliday, Jesse James, Black Bart, Rufus Buck, Ike Clanton, the Sundance Kid, Wild Bill Hickock, and more.

Sadie Adler would've been just as famous. She was a gunslinger like the real life Calamity Jane and Anne Oakley and she was an outlaw at one point like Laura Bullion, Pearl Hart, Belle Star, The Cassidy Sisters, and more.

The other women of the camp would've probably been less popular but still very intriguing figures to people in the future.

In the newspapers, we see that there are songs about Dutch's boys and books too. Trelawny mentions them being on dime novels. In the future, the pieced together story of the Van Dir Linde gang might've gotten adapted into a movie, similar to "Butch Cassidy and the Sun Dance Kid" or "The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford". They could've gotten biopics, documentaries, and more.

Historians and fans of the wild West era would dig up records, find pictures, and maybe even track down people who were apart of the gang, accomplices to the gang, or victims of the gang. They would try to piece together stories to figure out the mystery of what actually happened to the gang.

People would argue over things that happened in the gang and have their evidence to back it up. Letters written by gang members would become so valuable. If they ever someone come across Arthur's journal, it would probably be considered one of the most valuable pieces of documentation to ever exist for that time period.

The guns of the gang would probably be kept in museums if found. Albert Mason's portrait of Arthur Morgan would be found in history books, same as other pictures.

Dutch would probably be a very controversial figure in history- some would hail him as a failed hero and others would condemn his violence no matter the reason- they wouldn't know what the people in the gang knew- especially in the end. Same with the rest of the gang members.

They'd probably all get romanticized. Hosea and Dutch's friendship, the raising of the boys, Dutch and Annabelle and his fued with Colm, Mary and Arthur, John and his family, Javier being a revolutionary- no one would know the full story.

And then there is Jack- he may live to see the 1960s and 70s and 80s. He may have grandchildren who'd pull him into a theater to watch a retelling of the gang that he was a part of at one point. He'd be amused. He'd think that the actor playing his father was too clean looking, too pretty. He'd think that the movie Arthur was too skinny. He'd think that the man playing Dutch had a funny voice as he tried to mimic the accent. He'd laugh and make notes in his head of the historical accuracy. He'd feel sorrowful at the deaths of the characters- he knew them at some point. And no one at the theater would know that the old man with the rowdy bright eyed boys who brought him there was Jack Marston, the last of the Van Dir Linde gang.

Jack might talk about it to the public. He might do interviews. He might even write a book about his father, the infamous John Marston. Those would be priceless. Even Beecher's Hope might be kept around and visited as a historical site for history goers.

And honestly? It is such a bittersweet thing.

[millyh23]

Bound By Trust

word count: 11.9k

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N stood at the centre of the pitch, the sun setting behind the Emirates Stadium casting a warm, golden hue over the grass. Training had just wrapped up, and most of the team was heading back to the locker rooms, laughing and chatting about their plans for the evening. But Y/N lingered, stretching her legs as she replayed the day’s drills in her mind, the passing patterns, the defensive shape—everything that made Arsenal such a well-oiled machine.

As she bent down to tie her laces tighter, she heard footsteps approaching. She didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Leah Williamson’s presence was always familiar, a quiet confidence that seemed to wrap around the team like a safety net.

“You’re pushing yourself harder than usual today,” Leah said, her voice gentle but with an undertone of concern.

Y/N straightened up and turned to her, shrugging lightly. “Just trying to get better.”

Leah raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she stood next to Y/N. “You’re already good enough. That’s why you’re here.”

Y/N smiled but didn’t respond, shifting her gaze back to the now-empty field. She had always been hard on herself, always feeling like she needed to prove she belonged at a club as prestigious as Arsenal. The standards were high, and even though she knew she had the talent, there was always a nagging doubt at the back of her mind.

“I’ve noticed something,” Leah continued after a moment of silence. “You don’t trust yourself on the ball as much as you should.”

Y/N glanced at her, frowning slightly. “What do you mean?”

Leah sighed, stepping closer so they were facing each other. “You hesitate. When you’ve got the ball and space in front of you, you hesitate just for a split second. It’s like you’re second-guessing your instincts.”

Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but Leah cut her off with a knowing look.

“I know you,” Leah said softly. “You’re smart, and you’ve got great vision on the pitch. But if you don’t trust yourself, you’re going to hold back, and that’s going to affect the whole team. We need to know that you’re confident out there. That we can trust you.”

Y/N swallowed, her throat tightening. Trust. It was such a simple word, but it carried so much weight. She had always been the type to put immense pressure on herself, to not let anyone down. But maybe, in doing so, she was forgetting the most important part—that the team trusted her, and she needed to trust herself too.

“I’ve been working on it,” Y/N admitted quietly, her eyes dropping to the ground. “But sometimes it feels like I’m not enough.”

Leah’s expression softened, and she reached out, placing a hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “You are enough. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”

The sincerity in Leah’s words sent a wave of warmth through Y/N. She had always admired Leah’s leadership, the way she could read the game and her teammates like a book. And in that moment, Y/N realized that Leah’s trust wasn’t just a given—it was earned, and it was genuine.

“Thanks, Leah,” Y/N murmured, feeling the weight in her chest ease just a little.

Leah gave her a small smile, squeezing her shoulder before stepping back. “We’re all bound by trust on this team. We have to be. Otherwise, none of this works. And you’re a part of that, Y/N. So trust yourself as much as we trust you, alright?”

Y/N nodded, a new sense of determination settling within her. She knew it wouldn’t be an overnight change, but she could start small. Trust herself with every touch, every pass, every decision. It was the only way forward.

As the two of them walked off the pitch together, the stadium lights flickered on, illuminating the path ahead. Y/N felt lighter somehow, the pressure she’d placed on herself fading in the presence of something stronger—trust. The kind that wasn’t just given but built over time, through sweat, grit, and shared goals. It was what made Arsenal more than just a club. It made them a team.

And Y/N was ready to live up to that trust, bound by it in every way.

The hum of the crowd filled Y/N’s ears as she stood in the tunnel, heart pounding in anticipation. Today was the day. A crucial league match, with Arsenal needing three points to maintain their title race. After weeks of hard work, she had started to trust herself on the pitch. Leah’s words had sunk in deep, and her confidence was growing, game by game.

She could feel it during training, during drills, and in every touch of the ball. It wasn’t perfect, but the hesitation that once plagued her was beginning to fade. She was making quicker decisions, pushing forward with more certainty, trusting her instincts. The team noticed it too, and there was an unspoken understanding between them now—a bond forged by trust.

As the whistle blew and they stepped onto the pitch, Y/N took a deep breath, rolling her shoulders to shake off the nerves. The Emirates Stadium was packed, fans chanting, banners waving. This was her stage, and she was ready to play her part.

The first few minutes of the match went by in a blur of energy and movement. Arsenal controlled possession, and Y/N, stationed in her usual role on the wing, felt alive. She darted in and out of pockets of space, always aware of her surroundings, always thinking two steps ahead. Her first few touches were crisp, and when she drove forward, she did it without hesitation, pushing the ball past defenders with newfound confidence.

But then came the 30th minute.

A sloppy pass from the midfield found Y/N in an awkward position. The ball came at her too quickly, and her first touch was heavy. She chased it, but the opposing defender was faster, sweeping the ball away with ease and launching a counterattack.

The groan from the crowd hit her ears like a wave, but Y/N shook it off. Mistakes happened. She just needed to recover.

Except, they kept happening.

Five minutes later, she found herself in space on the edge of the box. Leah played a perfect ball through, setting Y/N up for a chance to score. All she needed to do was shoot. But the hesitation she had worked so hard to shake off crept back in at the worst moment. Instead of firing, she took an extra touch, allowing the defender to close her down, and her eventual shot was blocked.

Another groan from the crowd. Louder this time.

Y/N clenched her fists, her mind racing. Focus. Get it together.

But the game seemed to spiral out of control after that. Passes she usually nailed were going astray, her positioning felt off, and she couldn’t seem to get her rhythm back. It was as if all the progress she had made in trusting herself was unraveling before her eyes.

Then, in the 60th minute, disaster struck.

Arsenal were pushing forward, trying to break down the opposition’s defense. Y/N received the ball deep in her own half with pressure mounting. The opposing forward was closing her down fast, but instead of playing the safe pass back to the keeper, she tried to dribble her way out.

It was a mistake.

She lost the ball in a dangerous area, and within seconds, the opposition capitalized, scoring on the break.

The stadium fell into a stunned silence for a moment, and then the boos started. Low at first, then rising to a deafening roar as the frustration from the fans became tangible. Y/N stood frozen, staring at the scoreboard as the opposition celebrated.

Her heart dropped into her stomach. She could feel her teammates' eyes on her, but no one said anything. The boos continued to rain down, sharp and relentless. She had never heard anything like it before, not directed at her. It was suffocating, crushing her from the inside out.

Leah was the first to come over, placing a hand on Y/N’s shoulder, but the words she said didn’t register. Y/N couldn’t hear anything over the sound of the crowd, the disappointment echoing in her mind. Every cheer from the opposition fans felt like another knife twisting in her gut.

When the final whistle blew, Arsenal had lost 2-0. And Y/N, the player who had spent weeks clawing her way toward trusting herself, walked off the pitch with her head down, drowning in shame.

The locker room was deathly quiet. The team sat in silence, the tension heavy in the air. No one wanted to talk, especially not Y/N. She sat in front of her locker, staring at the floor, replaying every mistake over and over again in her mind.

She could still hear the boos ringing in her ears. She’d never been booed before—never been the one fans turned their backs on. But today, she had been.

Leah sat beside her, not saying a word, but her presence was steady, like an anchor Y/N didn’t feel she deserved.

“I messed up,” Y/N whispered, breaking the silence.

Leah exhaled softly, tilting her head to look at her. “It wasn’t just on you. We all had a bad game.”

Y/N shook her head, frustration bubbling up inside her. “No, I cost us the game. I froze. I… I didn’t trust myself out there.”

Leah frowned, her gaze soft but serious. “One bad game doesn’t erase everything you’ve worked for. You’ve come a long way, Y/N. Don’t let today be the end of that progress.”

Y/N wanted to believe her, but the weight of the boos, the mistakes, the disappointment—it all felt like too much. Trusting herself had been hard enough. Now, it felt impossible.

“I don’t know if I can bounce back from this,” Y/N admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Leah leaned in, her voice steady and sure. “You can. Because we trust you. That hasn’t changed.”

Y/N didn’t respond, unsure of whether to believe her. The road to trusting herself had been rocky, and now, after a game like this, it felt like she was back at square one.

But Leah didn’t leave her side. And maybe that was the first step—trusting that even when everything fell apart, her teammates would be there to pick her back up.

Y/N jogged onto the training pitch, the cool morning air biting at her skin. It had been a few days since the disastrous match that left her confidence in tatters. The boos from the crowd still echoed in her mind, replaying whenever she found herself in a moment of stillness. But she’d promised herself she wouldn’t let that one game define her.

Today was a fresh start, a chance to rebuild.

As warm-ups began, Y/N fell into the rhythm of the routine. Simple passing drills, weaving between cones, sprinting back and forth. Everything was familiar. She kept her focus, pushing away the doubt, reminding herself that she was good enough to be here. Leah’s words—we trust you—echoed in her head.

But as training progressed, something felt off. Something small, subtle. Y/N couldn’t quite put her finger on it at first, but a creeping sense of unease began to settle in her chest.

It started with the passing drills.

Normally, she was involved in the tight passing circuits, where quick, sharp ball movement was key. But today, when the ball came her way, it felt… hesitant. Her teammates weren’t passing to her with the same confidence they usually had. They took an extra second before sending the ball her way, as if second-guessing whether she was the right option.

She brushed it off at first, telling herself it was just her imagination. But as the session wore on, she couldn’t ignore it. When she called for the ball during a 5v5 game, her teammates would glance at her and then look away, choosing to pass to someone else instead.

She saw it with Leah too, which hurt the most. Leah, who had always been her biggest supporter on the pitch, was opting for safer options, choosing to play the ball back to the defense rather than through to Y/N in midfield. It was small—barely noticeable—but once Y/N spotted it, she couldn’t unsee it.

The next time Y/N found herself in a shooting drill, McCabe lined up beside her. They were supposed to take turns firing shots on goal. Katie usually threw her arm around Y/N’s shoulder, making some cheeky joke to lighten the mood. But today, she didn’t say a word. When Y/N stepped up for her shot, she felt Katie’s eyes on her—watching, almost like she was expecting her to mess up.

Y/N’s shot went wide, skimming past the post, and Katie muttered something under her breath before quickly taking her own shot without looking at Y/N.

It was nothing obvious. No outright blame. But Y/N felt the growing distance, the subtle shift in the way her teammates interacted with her. They weren’t angry, not openly. But there was something in the way they moved around her now, a hesitation in their movements, as if they no longer fully trusted her to make the right decision on the ball.

When Y/N joined the next possession drill, Alessia caught her eye. Y/N raised a hand, signaling for the pass. She hesitated, her body language stiff, before turning and passing to Katie instead.

Y/N’s stomach dropped. There it is again, she thought. It was happening more frequently now—little moments of hesitation, like they didn’t believe she could handle the pressure. And it wasn’t just Alessia. Kim, the ever reliable captain, even showed a flicker of reluctance when Y/N was in a tight spot.

It wasn’t malicious. No one was purposefully shutting her out. It was more instinctual—an unconscious decision to avoid risk, to play it safe. And in their minds, Y/N was starting to represent that risk.

As the training session wound down, they moved into a full-pitch game. Y/N was determined to prove herself, to shake off this creeping doubt and show her teammates they could trust her again. But every time she tried to make herself available for the ball, there was an invisible wall between her and the rest of the team.

At one point, she found herself in acres of space on the left flank. She waved her arms, calling for the ball. Stina had it, and Y/N was the obvious option. But instead of playing the pass, she turned in the opposite direction, playing a shorter, safer ball back to the defense.

Y/N stopped in her tracks, feeling her chest tighten. It wasn’t just hesitation now. It was avoidance. They didn’t trust her.

The game continued, but Y/N couldn’t focus. Her mind was racing, replaying every moment from training. It was like a million tiny fractures forming around her, each subtle action another crack in the trust she had been working so hard to build.

By the end of the session, Y/N was exhausted—not from the physical exertion, but from the weight of what she had noticed. The trust her teammates had once shown her so freely was no longer there. It was fragile, slipping away with every subconscious decision they made on the pitch. And they probably didn’t even realize they were doing it.

As they walked off the pitch, Y/N lingered behind, staring at her boots, her mind swirling with doubt. She could feel the distance growing between her and the rest of the team, and she wasn’t sure how to bridge the gap.

She thought back to Leah’s words from before—we trust you—but now, those words felt hollow. The truth was staring her in the face. The team didn’t trust her anymore. And the worst part was, she wasn’t sure if she trusted herself either.

Y/N stood in front of the mirror in the Arsenal locker room, her hands gripping the edge of the sink as she stared at her reflection. Dark circles lingered beneath her eyes, a testament to sleepless nights spent agonizing over every touch, every mistake, every moment where her teammates had chosen to pass to someone else instead of her. The subtle rejections, the subconscious actions that screamed they didn’t trust her—it was all too much.

She had tried to brush it off, to tell herself it wasn’t a big deal. But the doubt festered. She had poured her heart into this team, but they had slowly started pulling away from her, treating her like she was a liability, not an asset.

Not anymore.

Today, something snapped inside her. She was done waiting for their approval, done trying to rebuild trust that had crumbled in ways she couldn’t even control. If they didn’t believe in her, she would show them exactly what she was capable of without needing their validation.

She shoved her locker closed with a loud clang, ignoring the curious glances thrown her way by a few of her teammates. Leah looked like she was about to say something, but Y/N didn’t give her a chance. She strode past her, pulling her jacket tighter as she headed out to the training pitch. There was no room for conversation today.

No room for anything but cold, ruthless focus.

From the moment the whistle blew to start the warm-up, Y/N was a different player. Gone was the hesitation, the doubt that had clung to her every movement. Instead, there was a sharpness in her eyes, an edge to her game that none of her teammates had seen before.

During possession drills, she moved with precision, cutting through defenders like they weren’t even there. When the ball came her way, she didn’t wait for approval. She didn’t care about making the safe play. Every pass was crisp, every touch was purposeful, and every shot was hit with venom.

Katie, usually quick with a joke or a snide remark, felt the sting of Y/N’s newfound intensity. During a one-on-one duel, Y/N drove past her with ease, leaving Katie stumbling in her wake. Instead of the usual banter that followed, Y/N didn’t even look back. She kept moving, eyes focused on the next target.

"Alright, Y/N, calm down," she muttered under her breath, but there was no real heat in her voice. She was unnerved, like the rest of them.

It wasn’t just Katie. In a scrimmage, Alessia found herself outmuscled by Y/N, who bulldozed past her to fire a shot into the top corner. Alessia frowned, jogging back as Y/N turned away without celebration, her expression icy.

Even Leah, who had always been Y/N’s closest ally, noticed the shift. When she tried to give a piece of tactical advice, Y/N brushed her off, barely sparing her a glance. “I’ve got it,” Y/N said flatly, cutting off any attempt at friendly instruction. Leah blinked in surprise, unsure of what to say.

Training became a battleground, and Y/N was at the center of it all—uncompromising, ruthless, and unwilling to let anyone stand in her way. She played every drill as if it were a final, every duel as if it were personal. And it worked. Her teammates, once hesitant to pass her the ball, started giving it to her again—but it wasn’t out of trust. It was out of fear.

By the end of the session, the team gathered around the coach for final instructions, but Y/N stood apart, her arms crossed, eyes distant. She could feel the unease settling in around her, could see the way her teammates exchanged glances when they thought she wasn’t looking. They were confused. They didn’t understand where this version of Y/N had come from.

The truth was, she didn’t care if they understood. They had pushed her aside, made her feel like she didn’t belong. Now, she was taking control.

As they broke for the locker room, Leah jogged up beside her. “Y/N, you alright? You were… intense out there today.”

Y/N didn’t slow down. “I’m fine,” she replied curtly, her voice lacking any warmth.

Leah frowned, clearly unsettled by the change in her demeanor. “Look, I know things have been rough, but we’re a team. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Y/N stopped, turning to face her with a cold, hard stare. “A team?” she repeated, bitterness lacing her words. “Funny, I didn’t feel like part of the team when you all stopped passing to me. When you decided I wasn’t good enough.”

Leah opened her mouth to respond, but Y/N didn’t give her the chance.

“Save it,” Y/N said, her voice low and sharp. “I don’t need your pity, and I don’t need your trust anymore. I’m done waiting for you all to decide I’m worth it.”

Without another word, Y/N turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Leah standing there, speechless.

The next few days passed in a blur of cold stares and silence. Y/N threw herself into every training session with the same brutal intensity, shutting everyone out. The team, sensing the shift, began to tread carefully around her. The friendliness returned—Alessia tried striking up conversations, Katie offered her usual teasing remarks, and Leah went out of her way to compliment Y/N’s play. But Y/N ignored it all.

She was done playing their games.

During a team meeting, Kim passed her a bottle of water with a small smile, but Y/N took it without even acknowledging her. The tension was palpable. The more Y/N distanced herself, the more her teammates tried to reach out—but it was too late. She wasn’t interested in their sudden friendliness, not after they had shut her out when she needed them most.

On the pitch, Y/N was a force to be reckoned with. No one dared question her decisions anymore. She was playing with the kind of confidence that didn’t require validation from anyone else. But off the pitch, she was unreachable. Every attempt to joke, to lighten the mood, was met with icy indifference. She had built a wall, and she wasn’t letting anyone through.

The team, once so close-knit, was beginning to fracture, and Y/N could see it in their eyes. They wanted things to go back to normal. They wanted the old Y/N back—the one who laughed with them, joked with them, leaned on them.

But that Y/N was gone.

The next game came, and Y/N walked onto the pitch with the same cold determination she had carried into training. She didn’t hear the crowd, didn’t see the banners or feel the weight of the expectations. All she knew was that she was there to do her job, and she would do it without looking back.

She didn’t need their trust anymore. She had her own.

The stadium was buzzing with anticipation as Y/N stepped out of the tunnel, the familiar roar of the crowd hitting her like a wall. But this time, the noise wasn’t for her. It was against her.

Booing.

Loud, relentless, and piercing. The sound echoed in her ears, like a knife twisting in her gut. As Y/N walked onto the pitch, her heart pounded—not from nerves, but from the searing burn of betrayal.

It wasn’t just the boos. The fans were chanting, harsh words spilling from their mouths, voices full of venom. She could hear it all.

“OVERRATED!”

“BENCH WARMER!”

“WASTE OF MONEY!”

Her jaw tightened, but she kept walking, eyes forward, refusing to let the weight of their hatred drag her down. It wasn’t the first time she had felt like an outsider. But this time, it stung worse than ever, because these were supposed to be her fans. The ones who had cheered her name when she first arrived. The ones who had celebrated her goals. Now, they were tearing her apart.

Her teammates exchanged nervous glances, clearly feeling the tension in the air. Leah moved closer to her, like she wanted to say something, but Y/N brushed past her. There was no point in talking. Not anymore.

She didn’t need anyone’s comfort. Not from her teammates. Not from the fans.

As the match kicked off, Y/N felt the tension in every muscle, like a coiled spring ready to snap. The ball zipped across the field, but for the first few minutes, it was hard to focus. The boos still rang in her ears, cutting deep. She could feel the eyes of the crowd on her, waiting for her to slip up, waiting for her to prove them right.

But she wouldn’t give them that satisfaction.

It started with a subtle shift—a quick turn on the ball, shaking off a defender with ease. Then, a sharp pass that split the midfield open, setting up a dangerous attack. And then, when the ball came her way again, she sprinted down the wing, faster and sharper than she had in weeks.

She was done playing with doubt.

By the 30th minute, Y/N had transformed the game. She was everywhere—breaking up play, threading impossible passes, cutting through defenders like they weren’t even there. Her touch was magnetic, pulling the ball toward her with a kind of grace and aggression that no one could ignore.

The crowd’s boos had softened. She could feel it—the shift in the atmosphere as the fans started to realize what they were witnessing. But she didn’t care. She wasn’t playing for them.

With ten minutes left in the first half, Y/N found herself at the edge of the box, surrounded by defenders. The crowd held its breath as she glanced up, eyes scanning the field with laser focus. And then she made her move—one swift cut to the left, leaving two defenders trailing behind, before curling a shot around the keeper and into the far corner of the net.

The stadium erupted into cheers, the same voices that had been jeering her now roaring her name.

But Y/N didn’t react. No fist pumps. No celebratory screams. No running toward the fans like she might have done before. Instead, she stood in place, her chest rising and falling with steady breaths as the noise washed over her.

And then she turned to the crowd—slowly, deliberately.

With one hand, Y/N pressed her index finger to her lips in a quiet, commanding gesture. The "Speak Now" celebration. Silence. She was demanding their silence.

The fans, mid-cheer, faltered, the shift in her expression unmistakable. It wasn’t a celebration. It was a statement.

She had heard them. She had felt every one of their insults, their boos, their taunts. And she had answered with her performance.

But she didn’t need their approval. She didn’t need their cheers now that she was winning.

The second half began, and Y/N played with the same intensity. The crowd was fully behind her now, cheering with every touch, every pass, every sprint down the wing. But she didn’t acknowledge it.

She didn’t need their validation.

Another assist, another goal, and yet she never once lifted her head to thank the crowd. Even when her teammates tried to pull her into celebrations, she shrugged them off, cold and distant. Her focus was razor-sharp, her mind locked on the game.

The final whistle blew, and Arsenal walked away with a hard-fought victory. The crowd was on their feet, chanting her name now, the same fans who had booed her at the start of the match. They wanted her to soak it in, to smile, to give them the satisfaction of seeing her return their admiration.

But Y/N didn’t even glance their way.

She walked off the pitch as if the noise didn’t exist, her face a mask of stone. Her teammates crowded around her, full of congratulations and praise, but she barely acknowledged them.

It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate her team’s efforts or the win. It was that everything—the trust, the loyalty, the connection—felt hollow now. The boos had cut too deep, the doubt too heavy to shake. She had proven her point, but there was no satisfaction in it. Not from them.

And so, as the cheers rained down from the stands, Y/N kept walking, never once looking back.

The atmosphere in the press room was electric as journalists shuffled in, eager to catch the latest buzz about the upcoming friendly match between England and the USA. Y/N and Sarina sat at the long table, flanked by the team, but she could feel the tension in the air. The media had a way of inflating situations, and today was no different.

Emma Hayes, the newly appointed head coach of the USWNT, sat on the other end of the table Y/N, a self-assured smile on her face. Y/N had always respected Emma’s coaching prowess, but today she could feel the underlying edge in the air, especially as Emma turned her gaze toward her.

“Y/N, your recent performance against Arsenal has sparked a lot of discussions,” one journalist began. “Emma, do you think her confidence is misplaced, given how she has been booed by her own fans?”

Hayes leaned forward, her expression sharp. “Look, I think she’s a talented player, sure. But let’s not kid ourselves. Those goals she scored were lucky. Cockiness doesn’t win matches. We’ll see how she performs against a team that’s been world-class for years.”

Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle, her laughter echoing lightly through the room. The tension seemed to dissolve for just a moment as she leaned into the mic. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” she replied, a playful smirk on her lips. The journalists exchanged glances, half-amused, half-nervous at her nonchalance in the face of Emma’s sharp words.

As the day of the match arrived, the stadium was packed with fans from both sides, the buzz of excitement palpable. Y/N stood in the locker room, her heart racing—not with anxiety, but with determination. She was ready to show everyone, especially Emma, that her skill was no fluke.

The whistle blew, and the game kicked off. From the first touch, Y/N felt the rhythm of the match, moving fluidly with the ball at her feet. The USWNT players were fierce, but Y/N was more than prepared. The first half was intense, with chances flying from both sides. Y/N was quick, agile, and fierce, darting past defenders like a shadow.

Then it happened.

In the 30th minute, Y/N found herself on the edge of the box. The ball came to her, and with a quick glance at the goal, she unleashed a stunning strike that soared into the net, leaving Naeher no chance.

The crowd erupted, and Y/N didn’t just run to her teammates. Instead, she turned to face the USA bench, locking eyes with Emma. A wide smile spread across her face, and she raised her arms in a triumphant celebration, soaking in the cheers of the fans while pointedly ignoring the coach.

“Lucky shot!” Emma mouthed from the sidelines, but Y/N just waved her off, a confident grin on her face.

The game continued, and Y/N was in the zone. Her movements were precise, her decision-making sharp. She danced around defenders, threading through the tightest spaces. And soon enough, she added another goal to her tally—a beautiful header from a corner kick that flew past the keeper.

With each goal, she celebrated more emphatically in front of Emma, reveling in the chance to prove her wrong. After her second goal, she took a moment to blow a kiss toward the US bench, her laughter echoing across the pitch.

“Still lucky?” she mouthed playfully, her heart racing with adrenaline.

The score was now 3-1, and the game was slipping away from the USA. Y/N was relentless, and with fifteen minutes left, she found the ball at her feet yet again. This time, she maneuvered past two defenders before slotting the ball into the bottom corner of the net, her third goal of the match.

The crowd was deafening, a mix of cheers and chants for the England team. Y/N turned to Emma once more, her finger to her lips in that familiar “shh” gesture.

“Guess I’m just lucky,” she called out, a playful wink accompanying her taunt.

By the end of the match, Y/N had scored three goals, leading England to a convincing 4-2 victory. As the final whistle blew, she couldn’t help but beam with pride, the weight of Emma’s earlier comments now nonexistent.

Walking off the pitch, she was met with applause from teammates and fans alike. As Y/N approached the USA bench, she stopped in front of Emma, who looked slightly taken aback by the impressive performance.

“Did you see that, Emma?” Y/N asked, her voice dripping with playful confidence. “I guess my luck worked out today.”

Emma raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms but unable to hide a smirk. “Well played, Y/N. But don’t get too cocky; there’s always a rematch.”

With that, Y/N turned away, laughter bubbling up inside her as she walked toward her teammates, the thrill of victory fueling her every step. She had come to camp to show that she could rise above the doubts and criticisms, and she had done just that—proving, without a doubt, that she was a force to be reckoned with.

The training ground buzzed with excitement as the England team prepared for their next match. Y/N stood a little apart from the others, a mix of anticipation and caution swirling in her stomach. Being back in the camp meant being around her Arsenal teammates, and while she had felt the thrill of victory just days before against the USA, there was still an unspoken tension between them.

After that game, Y/N had celebrated her performance and her ability to rise above their earlier doubts, but deep down, she knew that her relationship with her teammates was still fragile. It was easy to brush off the boos from the crowd, but the weight of her teammates’ previous actions lingered like a ghost at the back of her mind.

“Y/N! Come join us!” Lucy called, her voice bright and inviting as she waved her over to a small group gathered around a table.

Y/N hesitated. Memories of their earlier interactions flooded back—how they had once seemed so united, and how quickly those bonds had frayed. She could see Leah, Alessia, and Beth chatting animatedly, laughter spilling from their lips, and for a moment, Y/N’s heart ached to be part of it. But the echoes of doubt reminded her to tread carefully.

“Hey, just grabbing some water!” Y/N called back, forcing a smile as she took a step away from the group. The last thing she wanted was to fall back into old patterns, to let herself get too close too soon.

After training, Y/N found herself lingering at the edge of the pitch, watching as her teammates shared inside jokes and playful banter. Leah caught her gaze and smiled, her expression warm and genuine. Y/N felt a flicker of longing but quickly smothered it. They had all said things—things that had hurt her—and trust was something that would take time to rebuild.

“Y/N!” Leah jogged over, her breath coming in quick bursts. “Are you joining us for lunch?”

“Maybe later,” Y/N replied, her tone light but her heart heavy. “I want to go over some drills first.”

“Come on, we’d love to have you!” Leah pressed, her eyes hopeful.

Y/N knew Leah meant well, but the offer felt suffocating. She couldn’t shake the feeling that, despite the smiles and apologies, her teammates were still subconsciously doubting her. “I just need a bit of space to clear my head,” she added, trying to soften the rejection.

Leah’s smile faltered for a moment, but she nodded. “Alright, but we miss you, Y/N. Just remember that.”

As Leah walked back to the group, Y/N felt the familiar mix of guilt and resolve. She missed them too, but keeping them at arm’s length felt like the only way to protect herself right now.

Later that evening, the team gathered for a meeting in their accommodations. The atmosphere was light, filled with laughter and chatter as the coaches outlined their strategy for the upcoming match. Y/N sat at the back, her heart racing as she tried to focus on the plans laid out before them.

When the discussion shifted to team bonding, Alessia looked around, her eyes landing on Y/N. “What about a game night later? We could all use a bit of fun!”

Y/N felt a surge of warmth at the suggestion, but she quickly reminded herself of her boundaries. “Sounds great, but I might skip out tonight,” she said, forcing a casual tone. “I have some things to catch up on.”

Tooney tilted her head, a teasing smile dancing on her lips. “You’re always ‘catching up’ on something, Y/N. Come on, just for a little while?”

It would be so easy to say yes, to slip back into the comfort of friendship and camaraderie. But Y/N felt the walls she had built around herself tighten, the need for self-preservation overshadowing her longing for connection.

“Maybe next time,” she said, her voice firm but gentle. “I just need a bit more time to get settled.”

As the night wore on, Y/N lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling. She felt torn—wanting to reconcile with her teammates but still needing to shield herself from further hurt.

After a while, she heard laughter and chatter in the hallway outside her room. It was her teammates, gathering for their game night. The sounds were inviting, but she remained resolute, knowing that jumping back into the fold too quickly could lead to old wounds reopening.

Yet, in that moment of solitude, she also felt a flicker of hope. Maybe there was a way to navigate this new dynamic—rebuilding trust slowly, one step at a time.

The next morning, during breakfast, Y/N made a tentative decision. She could at least acknowledge her teammates without fully immersing herself in their camaraderie just yet. As she joined the table, she greeted them with a smile, feeling the warmth of their presence.

“Hey, how was game night?” Y/N asked, her curiosity genuine.

“It was hilarious! You missed out on some epic moments,” Alessia replied, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Y/N allowed herself to laugh lightly, feeling the tension begin to ease. “I’ll catch the next one, promise.”

Leah beamed, and Beth leaned in closer. “Good! Just don’t leave us hanging next time, alright? We need our star charades player.”

Y/N nodded, feeling a flicker of warmth spread through her chest. The distance she maintained was still there, but it felt a bit softer. Perhaps she could find a balance—a way to keep her teammates at arm’s length while still allowing for the possibility of healing.

As the meal continued, Y/N remained engaged, listening to their stories and sharing light banter. She felt the barriers she had built slowly start to shift, the cracks allowing for a fragile connection to grow.

Maybe reconciliation didn’t have to mean complete vulnerability. It could be a dance, a careful waltz where trust was rebuilt step by step, and for now, that was enough.

---

The fluorescent lights of the Arsenal training facility felt harsh as Y/N entered the lounge, her mood buoyed by a solid training session. The sounds of laughter and chatter greeted her, but today, an unease settled in her chest. She had been meaning to talk to Leah, but every time she tried, the words got stuck in her throat. There was still an invisible barrier between them, one that neither seemed to know how to cross and Y/N missed her friend.

Y/N grabbed her phone, scrolling through her notifications absentmindedly. A new tweet caught her eye, and curiosity got the better of her. She clicked on it, her heart sinking as she recognized the page that had been gaining traction online. It was a cruel account that thrived on negativity, targeting players with biting insults and relentless mockery.

“Can you believe how overrated she is? Just one lucky game against the USA, and suddenly she thinks she’s the star of the team. Please.”

Y/N felt her stomach churn as she read through the comments, each one more brutal than the last. They mocked her skills, her personality, and her place in the team. It was disheartening, especially when all she wanted was to be seen and valued.

As she scrolled, something caught her attention. One tweet mentioned a moment that only one person knew about—something deeply personal she had confided in Leah during one of their late-night talks. It was a painful memory from her childhood, one that she had kept locked away, sharing only with someone she thought she could trust.

“Funny how she thinks she’s a part of this team when she can’t even handle the pressure. Remember that time she almost broke down after a practice? Guess she just can’t take the heat.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. Anger surged through her, hotter than anything she had ever felt. How could someone know about that moment unless they were there? And the only person there was Leah.

“Leah?” Y/N whispered, her heart racing as realization dawned on her. The only person she had ever opened up to was Leah. A cold shiver ran down her spine. Was she behind this hate page? The betrayal felt like a sharp knife twisting in her gut.

With trembling fingers, she clicked on the profile. It was anonymous, of course, but the account had a familiar rhythm and tone, one that she recognized all too well. Her heart sank further as she began connecting the dots. Leah’s laughter, her playful teasing—it all felt different now, tainted by this newfound suspicion.

Y/N’s mind raced. Was Leah really behind this? Was she laughing at her, too?

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Y/N tried to focus during training, but every time Leah’s voice rang out, her blood boiled. She could feel Leah’s eyes on her, and it made her skin crawl. Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal looming like a dark cloud.

After training, she made her way to the locker room, determination settling in her bones. Y/N needed to confront Leah. She needed answers.

As she entered, the atmosphere was lively, with teammates joking and chatting, but Y/N felt like an outsider. Leah was at her locker, chatting animatedly with Katie, but when she noticed Y/N, her expression faltered slightly.

“Hey, Y/N! Great session today!” Leah called, forcing a smile.

Y/N felt a surge of anger at Leah’s false cheer. “We need to talk,” she said, her tone cold and flat.

Leah’s smile faded, replaced by confusion. “Uh, okay? What’s up?”

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. “I saw that page again.You know the won that keeps going viral with the troll tweets. And there was something in there… something I only told you.”

Leah’s brows knitted together, " I don't kn-" but before she could respond, Y/N pressed on. “You know what I’m talking about. How could someone else know that, if it wasn’t you? Either your telling someone and their writing this or your the dick behind the page. So, which one is it are you a gossip or are you just a bitch?"

The locker room fell silent, the laughter and chatter abruptly cut off as all eyes turned to them. Leah’s expression shifted from confusion to something deeper, a flicker of guilt that didn’t go unnoticed.

“Y/N, I—” Leah started, but Y/N cut her off, unable to bear the thought of excuses.

“No! You don’t get to explain. How could you? After everything we’ve been through, how could you betray me like this?”

The air was thick with tension. Y/N could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, the embarrassment of her feelings laid bare in front of their teammates.

Leah stepped closer, her voice low. “I swear I didn’t—”

“Then how? How could they know about something so personal unless you had something to do with it?” Y/N’s voice cracked, anger mixed with hurt.

“Y/N, listen. I would never do that to you,” Leah insisted, her eyes earnest. “You have to believe me. There are people out there who will twist your words, but I’m not one of them. I’ve got your back.”

But Y/N wasn’t convinced. “Do you? Because it feels like you’re just another person trying to bring me down.”

Leah’s expression shifted to frustration. “That’s not fair! You’re pushing me away, and now you’re making it seem like I’m the enemy when I’m just trying to help.”

Y/N shook her head, a mix of anger and sorrow swirling inside her. “You don’t get it, Leah. It’s hard for me to trust anyone, and especially someone I thought I could confide in.”

Silence fell heavy around them, and Y/N could see the hurt in Leah’s eyes. For a moment, the world faded away, leaving just the two of them and the pain that had grown between them.

“Y/N, I swear I didn’t say anything. Please believe me. We’re a team, and I want to be there for you,” Leah pleaded, stepping closer.

But Y/N took a step back, the distance between them feeling necessary. “I need time. Time to figure things out.”

With that, Y/N turned and walked out of the locker room, leaving behind the laughter and camaraderie that once felt like home. The weight of betrayal hung over her, and as she stepped into the cool air outside, she felt more alone than ever.

In the days that followed, Y/N struggled with the heaviness in her heart. The hate page was still active, and the words stung more than ever. Each cruel tweet felt like a dagger, but knowing that Leah could have been involved made it unbearable.

She maintained a distance from her teammates, especially Leah. While they tried to include her, Y/N kept her walls up, her trust shattered. The once-strong bonds felt like threads about to snap.

During training, Y/N poured all her anger into her performance, her determination becoming a shield against the hurt. But even as she excelled, the shadows of doubt lingered, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that Leah had betrayed her trust.

Maybe reconciliation would come with time, but for now, Y/N knew she had to protect herself, even if it meant facing the world alone because no matter what she knew she could only rely on herself.

---

The cool breeze swept through the streets of Barcelona, wrapping around Y/N as she stepped off the plane, her heart pounding with excitement and apprehension. It felt surreal to finally be here, ready to begin a new chapter of her life with FC Barcelona Femení. After months of heartache and distrust at Arsenal, she had made the easy decision to leave, believing that a fresh start was exactly what she needed.

As she arrived at the training facility, Y/N could feel the energy buzzing in the air. The place was a hive of activity—coaches shouting encouragement, players laughing and teasing each other as they prepared for the upcoming season. It was a stark contrast to the tension she had experienced at Arsenal, and Y/N felt a flicker of hope ignite within her.

“Welcome, Y/N!” a voice called out, and she turned to see the familiar face of her new coach, Pere Romeu. He approached her with a warm smile, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “We’ve been waiting for you. You’re going to love it here.”

Y/N returned the smile, feeling a sense of belonging start to settle in her chest. She had seen glimpses of the camaraderie within the team through videos and social media, but experiencing it firsthand was something entirely different.

As she entered the locker room, the atmosphere was lively. Teammates greeted her with open arms, welcoming her as if she had always been part of the squad. Each hug and friendly smile chipped away at the walls she had built around herself.

“Y/N! Finally!” said Aitana, pulling her into a tight embrace. “We’re so excited to have you here!”

“Yeah, it’s about time you joined us,” said Ingrid with a teasing grin. “Barcelona’s been waiting for your magic.”

Y/N laughed, her heart swelling with warmth. This was a team that valued her, and it felt refreshing after everything she had endured. As they settled into the day’s training session, Y/N found herself blending seamlessly into the rhythm of the squad. The drills were challenging yet invigorating, and the players pushed each other to be their best, encouraging her along the way.

During a break, Y/N sat with her new teammates, feeling the warmth of their camaraderie. The conversation flowed easily, and for the first time in a long while, she felt at ease.

“So, what do you think of the city so far?” asked Jana, the young winger with a vibrant smile and infectious energy.

“It’s beautiful,” Y/N replied, glancing around at the bustling atmosphere. “I can’t believe I’m finally here. It feels like a dream.”

“Just wait until you see the Camp Nou,” Jana said, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “It’s incredible. The fans are amazing. You’re going to love playing there.”

As they chatted, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the way Jana’s laughter made her heart race. There was something special about the way they connected, and Y/N felt a warmth bloom within her. But she quickly reminded herself to be cautious. After everything she had been through, it felt risky to let her guard down again.

The weeks rolled by, and Y/N continued to settle into life at Barcelona. The team had embraced her wholeheartedly, making her feel like an integral part of their family. She found herself laughing more, training harder, and genuinely enjoying the game again. It was a refreshing change from the suffocating atmosphere she had left behind.

Jana became a constant presence by her side, their bond growing stronger with each passing day. They shared jokes during training, worked together on drills, and celebrated each other’s successes. Y/N found herself looking forward to their moments together, her heart fluttering whenever Jana flashed her that brilliant smile.

“Hey, do you want to grab dinner after training?” Jana asked one day, her tone casual, but Y/N could see the spark of hope in her eyes.

“Sure, that sounds great,” Y/N replied, feeling a rush of excitement. “I’d love to.”

That evening, they found a cozy little restaurant tucked away in the streets of Barcelona. Over delicious tapas and laughter, Y/N felt the last of her walls crumble. Jana’s easy laughter and genuine curiosity about her life made her feel seen and valued in a way she hadn’t experienced in far too long.

“You know, I’m really glad you’re here,” Jana said, her voice softening. “You bring something special to this team.”

Y/N’s heart raced at the sincerity in Jana’s words. “I’m glad to be here too. I was nervous about starting fresh, but everyone has made it so easy.”

Their eyes locked for a moment, and Y/N felt a surge of emotions rushing to the surface. Could she really let someone in again? Could she risk the possibility of heartbreak?

“Y/N,” Jana began, her expression turning serious, “I know this might be too soon, but I feel like we have a connection. I like you, and I want to get to know you better. Would you—”

Before Jana could finish, Y/N felt a rush of warmth flood her cheeks. “I like you too,” she admitted, her heart racing. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to say it.”

A wide smile spread across Jana’s face, lighting up the dimly lit restaurant. “Really? I thought I was going to have to convince you.”

Y/N laughed, her worries dissipating. “No convincing needed. I just… I was scared. But I want to see where this goes.”

They continued to talk, the evening slipping away unnoticed as they shared stories and dreams, laughter echoing through the air. As they walked back, hand in hand, Y/N felt a sense of hope and excitement. The walls she had built around her heart were finally crumbling, replaced by something beautiful and promising.

The next day, Y/N stepped onto the pitch at Camp Nou for the first time, her heart swelling with pride and anticipation. The stadium was a sea of blue and garnet, the fans chanting in unison. The energy was electric, and as she took her place among her teammates, she felt a rush of belonging.

With every touch of the ball, Y/N felt freer than she ever had before. The love and support from her new team poured into her, fueling her performance. Each pass, each run, felt like a celebration of her new beginning.

As the game progressed, the cheers from the crowd washed over her, a stark contrast to the boos she had once faced. This time, she was embraced by love and acceptance, and it felt like coming home.

After scoring her first goal, Y/N couldn’t help but run towards the stands, raising her arms in celebration. The crowd erupted, chanting her name. In that moment, she knew she had made the right choice. She was no longer defined by her past, but by the love and trust she was building here in Barcelona.

As the final whistle blew, Y/N joined her teammates in the center of the pitch, laughter and joy filling the air. Jana wrapped her arms around her, pulling her close. “I knew you’d shine here,” she said, her voice filled with pride.

Y/N smiled, feeling the warmth of friendship and love enveloping her. “Thank you for being here, for believing in me.”

They stood together, basking in the joy of the moment, surrounded by teammates and fans who had welcomed her with open arms. Y/N had finally found her place, her new family, and with Jana by her side, she was ready to embrace whatever the future held.

---

The atmosphere at the Emirates Stadium was electric as Arsenal prepared to face FC Barcelona in the UEFA Women’s Champions League. Fans filled the stands, a sea of red and white waving flags, and the air buzzed with excitement and anticipation. For Y/N, it was a match fraught with mixed emotions. On one hand, she was thrilled to be back at the stadium where she had spent so many seasons; on the other, she knew that her former team was about to face a Barcelona squad that had embraced her fully since her transfer.

As the whistle blew to start the match, Y/N took her position on the pitch, feeling the weight of expectations from both sets of fans. Arsenal’s supporters had always been a source of pride, but she could feel the tension building among her former teammates. The first half was grueling, with Barcelona quickly demonstrating their dominance. Y/N played fiercely, but it was clear that the synergy of her new team was unmatched.

With each goal that slipped past Arsenal’s defense, Y/N felt a pang of sympathy for her old teammates. The score climbed higher, reaching a staggering 10-0 by the final whistle. Y/N scored three goals herself, her joy tempered by the sheer humiliation of the scoreline. The cheers from the Barcelona fans were a stark contrast to the silence that enveloped the Arsenal supporters.

As the teams shook hands after the match, Y/N noticed Leah Williamson, her former friend, standing a few feet away, looking utterly defeated. The tension in the air was palpable. Leah’s eyes flickered over to Y/N, and for a moment, there was a mix of resentment and longing.

Y/N approached Leah, her heart racing. She had spent so long trying to rebuild her self-worth, and now, in the aftermath of such a humiliating defeat, she felt a surge of confidence. “Looks like you could use some practice on the pitch,” Y/N said, a smirk creeping onto her lips. “I mean, ten goals? Even I didn’t think you could be this generous.”

Leah’s expression shifted from surprise to anger, her fists clenching at her sides. “That was a team effort, Y/N,” she replied sharply, her tone laced with frustration. “Don’t think this is all on me.”

Y/N’s smirk widened, sensing Leah’s vulnerability. “But you were the captain, weren’t you? I guess leading your team to a double-digit loss really takes a toll on your leadership skills.”

The words stung, and Y/N saw the hurt flash across Leah’s face. For a brief moment, she regretted her harshness, but the adrenaline from the match kept her bravado intact. Leah opened her mouth to retort, but Y/N cut her off.

“Honestly, I didn’t expect much from you. But hey, at least I finally got to officially score a few goals against you,” Y/N added, the edge in her voice almost triumphant.

Leah’s eyes narrowed, her posture stiffening. “You think you’re so clever now, don’t you? Just remember, you’re not as untouchable as you think.”

“Touché,” Y/N replied, raising an eyebrow. “But I guess this proves that the grass really is greener on the other side, doesn’t it?”

With that, Y/N turned on her heel, walking away from Leah, leaving her former vice-captain standing alone amidst the chaos of post-match interviews and congratulatory shouts from her new teammates. She could hear the echo of Leah’s frustration behind her, but she didn’t turn back.

As she joined her Barcelona teammates, celebrating the victory, Y/N felt a mix of satisfaction and sadness. The rivalry was fierce, but she had finally stepped into her power, leaving the past behind her.

---

It was that time of the year again international duty and the atmosphere at England’s training camp was usually vibrant, filled with laughter and camaraderie as players prepared for their upcoming matches. However, today felt heavy, charged with unspoken words and brewing animosities. Y/N and Leah had been circling around each other all week, their past unresolved and emotions simmering beneath the surface.

During a break in training, Leah made a comment that set Y/N off. “You know, if you spent half as much time focusing on the team as you do on your Instagram following, maybe we’d actually win something,” Leah said, her tone dripping with disdain.

Y/N whipped around, eyes blazing. “Oh, please. At least I have accomplishments to celebrate. You should try winning sometimes instead of hiding behind your club legacy like a shield.”

Leah stepped forward, her frustration palpable. “You think it’s easy? Being the one everyone looks to when things go wrong? You’re just too wrapped up in your own world to see that.”

“Wrapped up? Is that what you call it? Because I call it self-preservation,” Y/N shot back, her voice rising. “I mean, let’s not pretend like you haven’t spent your fair share of time trying to tear me down behind the scenes. How’s that secret hate page working out for you, Leah? Oh wait, you wouldn’t know. It’s not like I told you about it.”

Sarina, looked over from where she was chatting with another coach. She noticed the escalating tension and approached the two players. “What’s going on here?” she asked, her voice calm yet firm.

“Nothing,” Leah snapped, crossing her arms defensively.

Y/N scoffed. “Oh, it’s definitely something, Sarina. Leah here seems to think she can criticize my focus while she’s been busy playing the victim. I mean, it must be exhausting being the team’s emotional punching bag.”

“Emotional punching bag? Really?” Leah’s voice shook with anger. “You have no idea what it’s like to carry the weight of this team on your shoulders. You think you can just waltz in, score a few goals, and suddenly you’re god?”

“Waltz in? That’s rich coming from you. How about I just return the favor for all the snide remarks and backhanded comments you’ve thrown my way? This is what you wanted, right? A little taste of your own medicine?” Y/N countered, a cruel smile on her lips.

Sarina stepped in, sensing the need to de-escalate the situation. “Both of you, enough. We’re here to prepare for our upcoming matches, not to air grievances. Y/N, Leah, take a step back. You’re both valuable players, but this isn’t helping anyone.”

Y/N folded her arms, refusing to back down. “I’m just calling it like I see it, Sarina. Leah acts like she’s so above it all, but the truth is, she’s just petty. She has no right to throw stones when she’s living in a glass house.”

Leah’s cheeks flushed with anger, but she remained silent, clearly struggling to find a response. Sarina continued, “Y/N, if you have an issue, you need to address it in a constructive way. Leah, you need to step back and consider how your words affect your teammates. This isn’t just about you anymore.”

Y/N took a deep breath, her defiance softening slightly. “Constructive? Like how Leah constructs her little narratives about me? I’m just giving her a taste of her own medicine.”

“Enough!” Sarina said sharply, drawing the attention of the other players nearby. “You both need to put this behind you. We’re a team, and right now, it seems like you’re more focused on tearing each other down than working together.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, finally stepping back. “Fine, whatever. I’ll keep my distance. Seems like that’s what you want anyway, Leah.”

Leah glared, but the fire in her eyes began to dim. “I didn’t ask for this, Y/N. You’re the one making it personal.”

“Personal? Oh, it’s definitely personal now,” Y/N said, a bitter smile crossing her lips. “But don’t worry, I won’t let your insecurities ruin my game. I’ll just make sure to keep winning while you wallow in your own self pity.”

With that, Y/N turned and walked away, the tension still thick in the air. Sarina watched her go, a frown etched on her face. The camp had enough challenges without internal conflicts tearing them apart.

As Y/N walked away, she could hear Leah muttering something under her breath, but she refused to turn back. This was her moment to stand her ground, even if it meant losing a friendship in the process.

“Good luck carrying that weight, Leah,” she called over her shoulder, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m sure you’ll manage just fine.”

The atmosphere in the England camp had been tense since the blow-up between Y/N and Leah. Sarina had taken time to consider the situation, and the repercussions were about to unfold. As players prepared for the upcoming friendly against Spain, the weight of unspoken tensions lingered in the air.

Y/N was sitting in the lounge, scrolling through her phone, when Sarina entered the room with a serious expression. “Y/N, can I have a word?” she said, gesturing for Y/N to follow her to a quieter corner.

“Sure,” Y/N replied, her stomach twisting with unease.

Once they were away from prying ears, Sarina crossed her arms. “I’ve spoken with the coaching staff about your altercation with Leah,” she began, her tone firm but not unkind. “While I understand your frustrations, your behavior was unacceptable. I need to maintain a cohesive team environment, especially as we head into an important match against Spain.”

Y/N felt her heart race, the earlier argument replaying in her mind. “So what? You’re just going to punish me and let Leah walk away scot-free?”

“Leah is the captain. She was trying to keep the team united. She’s been through a lot and is trying to lead,” Sarina replied. “I’m giving you a one-match suspension. You won’t be playing against Spain.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “You can’t be serious! This is ridiculous! Leah instigated it! You can’t just let her off the hook like this.”

“Y/N,” Sarina said sharply, “This is about maintaining discipline. You can choose to see this as unfair, but I need you to focus on the team. This is not just about you.”

Feeling a surge of anger and betrayal, Y/N’s voice dropped, her words laced with resentment. “Fine. If you think I’m the problem, then I’ll take my problems elsewhere.” Without waiting for a response, Y/N stormed out of the room, her heart pounding in her chest.

An hour later, as the team gathered for the pre-game meeting, Y/N made a decision that shocked even herself. She would withdraw from international duty entirely. She sent a quick message to Sarina and the coaching staff, stating her intent to leave. She packed her belongings and headed out of the hotel, her heart heavy but resolute.

As she stepped into the bright lights of the stadium, she found a spot among the crowd, far from the field where her teammates were warming up. She pulled on the Spain jersey that Jana had gifted her during one of their dates, the bright red fabric feeling both foreign and comforting. It was a bold statement, and she felt a rush of defiance as she settled into her seat.

The match kicked off, and Y/N watched with a mix of emotions. Her former teammates were battling on the field, and every time Leah made a play, Y/N felt a pang of conflict—anger mixed with a sense of longing. The fans around her cheered and jeered, the energy of the game intoxicating. Yet, she felt strangely detached, her heart pounding not just for the game but for what she had left behind.

As the game progressed, Y/N couldn’t help but cheer for Spain even though she loved playing for England, England didn't love her. But she loved Jana played for Spain and Y/N loved her and she loved Y/N. It was exhilarating to be on this side of the field, free from the pressures of being in the squad. Every goal scored by Spain felt like a release, and she found herself shouting and celebrating as if she were one of their players. The rush of adrenaline filled her as she threw her arms up with the crowd, feeling a sense of liberation wash over her.

Throughout the match, she caught glimpses of Leah on the field, the captain doing her best to rally her team. But as the minutes ticked by, Y/N felt the bitter taste of betrayal lingering in her mouth. It was not just Sarina’s decision that hurt, but the realization that Leah, who had once been a close friend, was now part of a system that had betrayed her.

By the time the final whistle blew, signaling a hard-fought victory for Spain, Y/N felt a complex mix of emotions. She had made her choice, but now she was left with the consequences. As she watched the celebration unfold on the pitch, she knew that this was a pivotal moment for her—one that might change the course of her career and friendships forever.

“Looks like I made the right choice after all,” she muttered under her breath, the vibrant red of the Spain jersey standing out against the sea of England colors around her. “Let’s see how they handle this.”

With that thought, Y/N settled back into her seat, ready to embrace whatever came next.

As the final whistle echoed through the stadium, Y/N felt a rush of exhilaration. The Spanish team was celebrating their well-deserved victory, and she was ready to join in the festivities. She spotted Jana, her girlfriend, amidst the throng players calling friends and family down to the field. The sight of her made Y/N’s heart swell with a warmth she hadn’t felt in a long time.

With a grin, Y/N pushed her way through the jubilant crowd, joining Jana and their friends. “Did you see that goal?” Jana laughed, her eyes sparkling. “I swear, I could have scored that one blindfolded!”

Y/N chuckled, playfully rolling her eyes. “You mean like Y/N did with Arsenal last season?” Salma quipped.

“Hey now, let’s not dredge up old traumas,” Y/N replied with a mock frown. “Today is a day for celebrating my favourite team, remember?”

“favourite team, huh? Is that what we’re calling it now?” Jana teased, nudging Y/N with her shoulder. “I think I like the sound of that.”

As the Spanish players began to gather for photos, Y/N felt a sense of belonging that had eluded her for so long. She joined in, posing with Jana and their friends, all laughter and smiles. The atmosphere was electric, filled with camaraderie and joy, a stark contrast to the tension she had left behind with the England team.

But just as Y/N was about to snap a group selfie, she caught sight of Leah across the pitch, flanked by a few other English players. Leah’s expression was a mix of anger and disbelief as she watched Y/N embrace her new life so freely. Y/N felt a thrill of defiance course through her.

“Hey, look who it is,” Y/N called out, raising her phone in Leah’s direction, a cheeky grin plastered on her face. “Do you want to join us for a picture? I’m sure you could use a few tips on how to have fun!”

Leah’s face flushed with irritation as she marched over, her teammates trailing behind her. “Y/N, this is pathetic,” Leah snapped, her voice rising above the celebrations. “You’re acting like you're actually on that team. You didn’t even give us a chance to explain.”

Y/N crossed her arms, maintaining her playful demeanor. “Oh, come on, Leah. You can’t be this upset over a little fun. Don’t you have your own fans to focus on?” She gestured to the scattering of England supporters still lingering near the bench.

Leah stepped closer, her frustration boiling over. “This is serious. You think it’s easy to see a teammate celebrating with the enemy? You’ve turned your back on us!”

“Teammate? Is that what we were?” Y/N shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Seems more like we were just coworkers who barely knew each other.”

Just then, Alexia approached, her presence commanding. She had been watching the exchange with an amused smile. “Oh, Leah,” she interjected, her tone playful yet authoritative. “You should know by now that if a bird wants to leave the flock, you don’t chase after them. You let them fly, especially if they’ve found a better nest.”

Leah opened her mouth to retort, but Alexia continued smoothly, “Besides, you wouldn’t want to throw a tantrum in front of the fans, now would you? That’s a pretty bad look for a captain.”

A hush fell over the surrounding group, and Y/N couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “That’s right, Leah. Maybe take notes from a real captain on how to handle this gracefully,” she quipped, relishing the moment.

Leah’s expression turned to one of barely contained fury, and she took a step back, realizing she was outmatched not just by Y/N but now by Alexia too. “Whatever,” Leah finally muttered, turning on her heel and marching away with her teammates, who looked just as bewildered.

Y/N watched Leah retreat, her heart racing. There was a strange mix of triumph and sorrow in her chest. “Wow, Alexia,” she said, grinning. “That was amazing.”

Alexia shrugged with a smirk. “Just watching out for our own, right? And besides, you deserve to celebrate the win without the baggage of your old team.”

Jana squeezed Y/N’s hand, her eyes shining with admiration. “I knew you’d fit right in with us.”

With that, the group burst into laughter again, the earlier tension fading into the background. Y/N felt free, unburdened by the shadows of her past. She was ready to embrace whatever came next, knowing she had found her place among her new teammates—and in Jana’s arms. Bound by more than trust, bound by love.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The End

[willows-writings]

Of Butterflies and Consequences: An Until Dawn Interactive Fanfiction:

PROLOGUE NOW POSTED

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Masterlist and How to play

(my main masterlist)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

taglist (comment if you wish to be tagged in the beginnning of all chapters): @hearts4josh @lousypotatoes @moyo5653 @morgy3456 @pecxiebu @ohantonia-blog

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

‼️PLEASE READ‼️

Hello!!! Welcome to this fic!

This fic will be Josh x Reader

Ever read a choose your own adventure book? Or played one of Markiplier's games? This is just like that!

Just like the game there will be different stories and endings you can get

There will be a total of 10 chapters (11 if you include the prologue) and I will be doing my best to align them with the chapters in the game

When I drop an update I will be dropping an entire chapter at once so you can play a whole chapter seamlessly!

Speaking of updates you will have to bear with me and the time between updates because I will have to plan out entire chapters with multiple different storylines all at once

If you happen to be stalking me and see a new post right as it is posted but can't find the rest of the chapter or the links aren't working please give me a few minutes because I will have to link everything together after it is posted

Since the original game also has different stories you can follow based on the choices others make I will be choosing some of the options for others.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

How to Play

The prologue and chapter one will only have one beginning Most other chapters will have more than one beginning though that will depend on your choices and how you ended the last chapter If you can't remember or find the beginning you are supposed to start on I will be linking them all below as each chapter is posted If your problem is being unable to remember which beginning you need to start on then the best option would to be to go through the route you played real fast and once you reach the last post there will be a link to the next chapter once it is posted (lmk if that doesn't make sense) Other than that every post with a choice will end with two links that will take you the choice you made. Please let me know if a link takes you to the wrong post. Every post will be titled the same as the choice you just chose. (see the prologue as an example once it is posted)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Masterlist

Prologue

Chapter #1

Chapter #2 - Beginning #1 - Beginning #2

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

And that's it so far! Today is 10/20/24 and I will likely be posting the prologue sometime this week! If you have any questions regarding the plot or anything else feel free to send them in! If you have any suggestions for the plot please send those too! Just know I have some of this planned out already so I may not take your suggestion but I appreciate it anyway!! Any likes, reblogs, comments, fanart, whatever you want is greatly appreciated!!

[bookshelf-in-progress]

I love how a well-written romance is so often structured as a mystery. A person starts with a certain idea about another person, and over the course of the story, they uncover more evidence that gives them a fuller picture of who the other person truly is. They learn about layers to the personality and backstory that give the other person more depth. They learn how the other person's personality meshes with theirs. Even the third-act misunderstanding fits the mystery structure--it looks like they've uncovered the final secret to the other person's identity, which is that they're not the worthy person they seemed to be, but then discover that they misinterpreted that evidence, or the other person takes steps to apologize and repair the level of trust. When the mystery is resolved, they've reached a full understanding of each other and know they've found a partner they can trust their whole future to.

[horse-surgeon-barbie]

maybe we STOP playing house ,, we're not good at it

[proxentauri]

if i had a nickel for every time i played a remedy game that featured courtney hope’s character trying to get to a world-altering polyhedron in a universe where humans wear special harnesses to survive a world-ending threat, i’d have two nickels, which isn't a lot, but it's sure weird that it's happened twice

flipped version & process beneath the cut!

beth deserved so much better...please quantum break sequel where she's happy :) please remedy...the IP is worth it i promise I'LL fucking come back for her

[deadboyagency]

Miscellaneous Dead Boy Detectives Cast and Crew Instagram Stories 7/?

[dailyflicks]

Never let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game. A CINDERELLA STORY (2004), dir. by Mark Rosman

[laelior]

The ride back from Rift Station is eerily silent.

Liara sits near the back, contemplating the hands folded in her lap. She’s earned the numbness that radiates from her.

Shepard might as well be a statue at the front of the tram, her back ramrod straight and her shotgun slung across her lap, one hand resting on the stock. She keeps a quiet vigil, her eyes continually scanning the track ahead of them for signs of danger. Kaidan hasn’t seen her move once since they’d boarded the tram, in a stark departure from her typical restless energy. He puts it down to deference for Liara’s grief and the unnerving encounter with the rachni.

Kaidan is somewhere in the middle, pacing from side to side while keeping an eye on both Liara and the peripheral sight lines as the tram hurtles along back toward the central station.

The tram lurches around a bend, and the statue at the front of the tram winces. It's subtle, as is the way she shifts her left shoulder. Someone else might not have caught it. But Kaidan does.

He sighs and makes his way to the front of the tram to kneel down in front of her, looking her over critically for the source of her wince.

“Alright, show me where it is,” he says, quietly so as not to disturb Liara.

“Where what is?” She barely looks at him, eyes flicking down to him before resuming their scan of the horizon ahead.

“Whatever injury you’re trying to power through. Let me take a look at it."

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Go check on T’soni, she could probably use it.” She waves her hand, shoeing him away like she would a fly, but Kaidan is having none of it.  Not today. Not after all they’ve been through.

“Liara’s in shock. She needs time to process what happened, not a medi-gel patch. Now quit being stubborn and show me.” He stares her down, unwilling to concede this battle of wills to her and her mulish pride. Before she can protest, he takes the shotgun from her lap and places it on the floor–easily within reach for someone with a normal range of motion. Her nostrils flare in annoyance but she finally meets his gaze.

“For fuck’s sake, Alenko,” she snaps quietly. She moves her left arm away from her side and Kaidan sucks in a breath. There, the plates of her Onyx armor have blackened and cracked, leaving a fist-sized dent right over her ribs.

Carefully, he picks at a piece of ablative ceramic and it flakes away in his hand like so much tissue. The undersuit is tattered, showing the bruised expanses of her skin underneath and two bony knobs sitting close to the surface. “How…?

“One of the commandos. Hit me with a warp and shotgun blast right after.” Her accompanying shrug is not effortless. “Maybe shorted out the medi-gel delivery system, too,” she concedes with a quiet grunt.

He pulls a spare medi-gel pack from his own armor and breaks it open, gingerly applying the clear, viscous substance directly to her skin. His field medic training had never specifically advised this particular method of applying medi-gel, but there had been a number of edge cases that training had failed to cover. She hisses when he presses just a little too hard.

“Sorry,” he murmurs reflexively. He peels off his gauntlet for a gentler touch and sets it next to her shotgun. The medi-gel is cold on his fingers, a sharp contrast to the heat of her skin under his touch.

“These look broken, Shepard.” He hovers two fingers just over her fifth and sixth ribs, careful not to touch.

“I’ve had worse.” It takes all of Kaidan’s self-control not to grind his forehead into his palm.

“The moment we get back to Port Hanshan, you’re going to see Chakwas,” he says flatly. It is not a request. 

“Are you giving me orders now, Lieutenant?” There’s a cold edge to her voice and a look of hard steel in her eyes. Another time, that would have made him back off. But now…now, he meets her hard stare with one of his own.

“I don’t have to. Chakwas can still countermand you on medical matters.” She glares down at him, using that look he’s seen a hundred times now to bend others to her will. But he refuses to break under the weight of it.

And then she does the last thing he expects.

One side of her mouth turns up in a dry, lopsided smile.

Kaidan quickly drops his eyes, feeling a flush start to creep up his neck, and finishes applying the medi-gel. He fumbles to get his armored glove back on once he’s done. He resumes his place in the middle of the tram, but somehow he just knows she’s still smiling that little smile of hers.

When the tram finally slows to a stop at the central station, he’s still not sure who won that round.

[zeglersource]

rachel zegler + filmography (so far) (requested by anon)

[someoctober]

and i can close the door on us, but the room still exists

[willows-writings]

‼️This post is part of a choose your own adventure series and is not meant to be read stand-alone. Click HERE to go to the masterlist and Chapter beginnings‼️

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Go to sleep

Prologue

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"Sammy" With your free hand you lightly hit the girl supporting you "Sammy, I'm tireddd."

Sam lets out a sigh and starts to drag you away. "Bye guys, I hope you make the right decision."

You close your eyes and lean againist Sam trusting her to take you somewhere as the world spins beneath your eyelids. By the time you open then again you are in a room lit by a fire that you can see Beth standing by and a couch in front of it that holds your boyfriend.

"Joshhhh" you break off from Sam and stumble to the couch, nearly tripping over the edge of it before flopping down on top of the man already laying there.

"Y/n babyyy my gorgeous amazing other half." His words were also slurred and his arms clumsily come up to curl around you tightly as he buries his face in your hair. You giggle and turn your face towards the fire to find Beth looking at the two of you fondly.

"Hiii Elizabeth, Bethy, my lovely friend." You reach the hand closest out to her and she takes it and gives it a little squeeze.

"Hi y/n. Partied hard?" She's smiling in a way that says she's already taken pictures of the scene to use as blackmail later on.

"Ugh yes, and just give me like thirty minutes and I will be ready to party again." As you say this your eyes drift further closed and you feel yourself relaxing more and more into Josh.

"Mhm sure." She snorts and lets go of your hand which you wrap around Josh. "Sleep well y/n, we can party tomorrow night."

You hum contently and close your eyes. You nestle your face into the crook of Josh's neck and settle further into your comfy human pillow. Between the heat of your boyfriend and the fire, you find yourself drifting off to sleep to the quiet crackle of wood, and breathing of Josh in minutes.

ʚїɞ

The way you wake up isn't quiet.

Instead of soft fire glow it's harsh red and blue lights. Instead of soft breathing it's loud voices and the crackle of walkie-talkies.

Those sounds stay for weeks until suddenly it's quiet. Quiet as in feelings of regret and grief. Quiet as in sobbing over a closed case and two graves.

You think you prefer the sirens.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

End of Prologue

Chapter 1

OBaC Masterlist

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Prologue is finished! Sorry if this isn't accurate to how you personally would act drunk. Featuring a little fluffy moment with Josh and Beth before the bad stuff. :( Did all the talk of seeing Hannah and Beth later make you sad hehe. I felt evil putting that in. The other options just had a bit more dialogue between reader and the group, feel free to go back and read it!

Anyways I'm putting the text for the beginning of Chapter 1 below but I need to rewatch some of the game first so I can write everything accurately. It will be linked when it's done which will most likely be later this week or early next week! As always likes, reblogs and comments are appriciated!

[heavenlymorals]

The Camp Girls: A Pedestal of Morality

Warning: This post contains the exploration of period-typical attitudes that can border on sexism, as well as spoilers for RDR2.

RDR2 is a game, that for the most part, values its historical setting in the sense that the setting actually matters to the story and the characters. The characters are not only reacting to the historical attitudes, but they are a part of it as well. Of course, Red Dead 2 is a bit more tame in some aspects of 1899 America, especially compared to RDR1, which makes SURE to remind you of the prejudices of 1911 America.

For this post, however, I want to talk about more domestic attitudes that were a part of the gang- to be more specific, I want to talk about the Cult of Domesticity or the Cult of Womanhood and how that idea relates back to Dutch's gang.

The Cult of Domesticity or the Cult of Womanhood was an idea that was popularized in the 19th century by the Victorian middle class that spread to America and explained, encouraged, and pushed specific gender roles and cultural ideas to the masses. As the name probably explained, this idea was pushed onto mainly women. There were two main aspects of it- the private sphere and the harbinger of morality.

The Private Sphere had everything to do with a woman's role in the house- hence the private sphere. The Private Sphere had everything to do with housekeeping, childrearing, being a good host, and overall creating a safe haven for the men in their lives. While the men had to deal with the public sphere, which was business, work, protection, etc., women took charge of the private sphere.

The morality aspect of it is about how women were expected to bring morals to the house. Men were expected to hold women in high regard and women provided sectors of emotional safety and humanity to men, as well as providing children with a moral code and instill them with manners.

This excerpt from usahistory.org explains it better than I can: "A TRUE MAN was concerned about success and moving up the social ladder. He was aggressive, competitive, and rational, and channeled all of his time and energy into his work. A TRUE WOMAN, on the other hand, was virtuous. Her four chief characteristics were piety, purity, submissiveness, and domesticity. She was the great civilizer who created order in the home in return for her husband's protection, financial security, and social status."

Of course, men perpetuated this idea, but a lot of women also supported this model of living, believing it to be the way it should be. Writers like Sarah Hale published magazines that explained what should be the behaviors of a proper lady. Women's magazines like Godey's Lady's Book sold 150,000 copies in a year. Catherine Beecher was an advocate for bringing the women's sphere to the classroom in order to instill a proper moral code into their students.

But why does this matter? I mean, the camp girls aren't exactly the moral standard of womanhood in the 1800s. Mary Beth is a thief. Karen is a scam artist. Tilly ran with gangs and murdered a man. Abigail was an ex-prostitute and a thief. Grimshaw was probably all of those things combined at one point or another.

Well, you could argue that because they live unconventional lives, morality was a bit greyer, but overall, the women of the camp still, in one way or another, adhered to this idea regarding the cult of domesticity.

The private sphere and the public sphere definitely existed in the gang, which is why there were so few missions with the camp girls. The girls were mostly resigned to the "house" or to the camp. They worked to make the camp a livable place for the men who gave them protection and financial security.

It is a common sight seeing Tilly washing clothes, or Mary Beth and Karen sewing something, or Abigail wiping down tables, same as Grimshaw. There are all very domestic roles- while in camp, the women are almost always working, except for Molly and Sadie, while the men are almost always lounging around- typical of the 1800s home.

The girls mention this as well through interactions.

Tilly mentions how much she hates washing and mending the men's laundry and how she wishes the men could do their own laundry.

Karen tells Grimshaw to shut up because Grimshaw isn't the one feeding her, so she won't take her bullying.

Abigail screams how the men aren't being men because they couldn't protect Jack from being kidnapped. She also critiques Dutch's philosophy because it doesn't feed them.

Mary Beth is yelled at for not working in the camp as she should by Grimshaw.

There are more examples of this, but we will be here all day if I have to go through all of them.

Grimshaw is kinda obvious. The girls have to work to please this fierce dragon, who is always working. Arthur mentions in the entering Valentine mission whether or not Miss Grimshaw could spare them, showing how the general priority of the girls in the camp is domestic work.

We also know that the girls doing men's work is generally rare due to this one interaction with Karen- "Not so long ago, I was a damsel in distress. Now they got me protecting the men."

The now implies that this isn't a normal routine and that protecting the men is not something that she usually has to do.

So that was just the domestic aspect of it, but there is also the morality part of it.

I think the biggest representation of this is the mini-therapy sessions with the girls, telling you to be better and offering advice to what might make Arthur a better man, with Arthur being more comfortable opening up to them BECAUSE they are women and because he expects their morality to keep them from using such information to hurt him, which is something he has to be careful with when it comes to the men in the camp. But there are more representations of this.

There is Abigail begging John to put his old ways behind and to be a better man, a real man. There is Hosea speaking about Bessie, talking about how while she is in heaven, he will be looking up at her from hell, implying that Bessie had the moral compass that Hosea did not (the interaction also probably destroys the fandom's interpretation of Bessie and Annabelle being very active members in the gang, when that is most likely not the case). Even Mary, though not a camp girl, still acts like a moral harbinger to Arthur, telling him to be a better man and stop being an outlaw.

John has a line in Undead Nightmare that is a complete reference to this thought process: "Abigail, teach the boy right from wrong."

So what am I getting at here? What is the point of all of this? It seems like I am just going off on old historical attitudes, but what does this ultimately mean?

What it means is that Dutch allows women into the gang in order to dignify his ambitions.

Dutch likes to differentiate himself from the other gangs that still roamed in America. While the other gangs stole and robbed for fortune, Dutch robbed for his romantic ideals and to be a western Robinhood. While the other gangs had many men, Dutch had a few strong men whom he knew personally and trusted. While the other gangs targeted innocents, Dutch's gang targeted only those whom they saw as committing the sin of avarice.

Dutch wants to see himself as morally superior to other gangs and other criminals, so what better way to do it than allowing women into the gang? Women who suffered great misfortune in their life and had no other place to go. With women being a pedestal of morality back in that time, Dutch having women in his camp as a way to differentiate himself from other gangs- a way to show people that he is better than them.

Every other gang encountered in the game has no women.

"We are what we are. A bunch of desperados on the run. But with the women, a change of clothes, we're a choir, or a gang of pilgrims, or something."

See, that one line from Guarma from Dutch basically explains the whole concept. Without the women, they are desperate criminals, clinging onto nothing, but with the women, they become virtuous by association. But someone like Micah doesn't care about this virtue or morality because he explains that he would rather just be a criminal and run with a few strong men, which is what he does in the end.

The concept of the private sphere and the public sphere of the camp can also show that Dutch wants to dignify his gang by giving it a sense of civilization to make it truly like a home or family.

What an interesting idea, don't you think?

[lindseymcdonaldseyelashes]

Leverage 3x11 - "The Rashomon Job"

[guildling]

i appreciate him very much