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#earn money playing games online#make money playing games online#games where you can earn money#best app to play games and earn money#play game and earn money online
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Actually, Guzman is his spanish name.
OH YEAH some other folks pointed that out too, makes sense since it's an irl Spanish name (probably why I see it around a lot!) đł
(normally it's a surname, I've only seen it used as a first name once in a blue moon -- but also in the pokemon world it's pretty clear that naming conventions aren't the same lol)
#oceandi answers#radicalldreamer#still harder for me to connect it to him since I played all the games in english -- it's only one letter away but it still feels just a#smidge closer than 'bromley'#frankly I hope someone out there calls him 'bromley guzmĂĄn' as his full name. and he just GOES by 'guzma' bc it sounds cool#that'd be neat#tag rambling#rambling ahead ->#speaking of guzma I spent a long time talking about aus with some friends and well. I think his dad's from johto skdjfksjdfskjd#iirc that was a HC back in the day amongst a small group of guz enjoyers.... but I think it makes SO much sense for gene's guz specifical#ly bc listen . hear me out okay he somehow knew about the bug trainers' convention and he wanted to go and usu'ally they#hold it in JOHTO. he's never won a gold medal for BATTLE but got the dawn stone as his first ever victory -- guess what region you can#get a dawn stone from in a competition that's based on more than just battling? YEAH -- JOHTO BUG CATCHING CONTEST BABEYYY#(hgss edition)#TWO of his main team are johto pokemon#he moved from melemele island to ula'ula where malie city/garden are -- inspired by johto and even including a johto-style gym#(I mean yeah he STAYED bc po town had a sudden amount of free real estate but why did he GO THERE in the FIRST place to join the#proto-Team Skull.)#though ig if he hates his dad maybe his dad's Not from johto and is from paldea instead ('rents could've been inspired by the name guzmĂĄn#and just wanted to make it sound more unique lol)#but either way he totally used to go to johto with his dad which is where he won a bug catching contest with his pinsir.#and then started winning battles there but always getting second/third place in actual like. /competition/ competitions. so not#getting the grand prizes/money/stuff/fame that his dad wanted him to earn for the family#ANYWAYS.
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Recent ones of these even though they all look the same lol.. forcing myself to document progress..
#I can average like 2500 words a day for a while and then something gets in the way and I don't write for a week or something#which then sort of erases my previous Doing Good At Keeping Up With It lol.. but... alas#Still moving slowly forward...#There's a 'community board' place in game where you can go to look at a few things and some of whats there is little 'odd jobs' the player#can do for a little extra coin (since you can buy items in the game/might need coin).#Thhough of course since it's just interactive fiction/visual novel it's not like... actual minigames or something. Just like..#mini stories of your character going places and doing stuff and having some interactions with the other places in the world#Like for example since modern refrigerators don't exist in this world one of the odd jobs you can do is help with doing ice deliveries#or there's one odd job where you assist a guy recharging the city's main bell tower/time keeping place by helping him go around and replace#the iriminel crystals (kind of like magical batteries - stones that are able to store energy that way and be used to fuel passive#enchantments). or one where you help food prep for the cooks at a nearby automat. etc. etc.#Just little short things to get a better glimpse of how the wider city is outside of just interacting with the main characters. plus earn#a tiny bit of coin. Though because they're so short there's not really branching paths or anything much for choices beyond#usually an optional dialogye menu where you can talk to the person you're working with and ask them personal#or work related questions if inclined to do so. It'd be cool if they were more in depth but.......erugh...#I have so much writing left to do already lol.. Also since it's really just to get money I could have just had them#all be like a single sentence of 'you go here and you do this all day then you come home. + 15 coins. yaay' and thats all#So maybe it's a middle ground to elaborate upon them at all. Just enough extra details to maybe be a little interesting#like ''ooh my character is in a little cart riding through the misty morning forest on their way to deliver ice'' . but also not so much#that it takes away time from like... the literal actual main game lol#ANYWAY. That's what all these are. There are like 10 optional little world exploring/job things you can do. and each I guess seem to be#about 2.500 words ish. That's including the optional chatting menus though. but still. reasonable for a little side thing I guess.#I got finished with one character's quests and stuff so I decided to take a break to work on some of the other little things like the Odd#Jobs and the 8 characters you can find around the world to have short conversations with that aren't actual main characters either. etc.#Then I shall return back to the Main Actual Things. ... augh...... still so much to do...#Which I could also just cut everything extra out but... idk.. since it's mostly all text I feel the need to give more options to flesh out#the actual setting somehow. Since in a 3D game you can walk around and explore the world and stuff. And of course there#are pictures. but it would take me infinitely longer to do detailed art of so much of the entire city youre in or etc. So i guess my versio#of still having some amount of ''exploration'' is just.. set up optional paths where more of the world can at least be Described.#You can't actually walk through a 3d orchard. or an elaborate bell tower. or an elven shrine. But you can Read About being in them LOL
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(long negative rant, be aware)
I think i'm starting to pinpoint one of the biggest reasons I can't really connect with the plot of botw and totk anymore đ« and it's because I'm really tired of the "peaceful world whose entire source of conflict can all be pinned into a single, cartooningly evil individual/organization" trope
I'm rewatching some fire emblem playthroughs, another series who relies on that plot narrative too much, and it's exhausting to me đ« I thought that totk was a step down from botw plot wise, but it's really Nintendo's incapability and refusal to evolve and to make stories more complex than bog standard "evil always falls and light destroys darkness" kinda stories
#having watched a playthrough of revelations was eye opening lol#because that's an entire game/route who undoes all depth the story might have had just to introduce a big bad it can pins the blame upon#and that was the first moment i went 'ah this is a pet peeve of mine isn't it'#and like#fuck i don't care if you keep doing this to series like pokemon or mario#but you can't make a story on the scale of stuff like fire emblem or zelda where that's all it boils down to and expect me to stay invested#it doesn't help that them wanting to simplify everything also killed paper mario#which was one of my favorite series of all times#but at this point I can't even say it anymore because the amount of games i hate of the series outweight the amount of ones i love#and i that combined with everything nintendo has been doing#i'm just kinda done with them and their games#and hell i quoted pokemon a few tags ago but sumo and black & white had great stories#and again in sumo's case they just undid all the depth the story had in a later game#and they don't even pretend pokemon now is anything but a money printing machine for them#...also i fully realize that this might attract negativity considering i'm naming several series with giant rabbid fandoms#and if you're one of the people who might be angered at this#just don't waste your time and do something better than engaging with this post#bothering to engage with this post in a rude way will earn you nothing but a block#also i'm not saying fates had much depth to begin with just that they went and destroyed whatever depth there might've been there
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jfc the new infants update on Sims 4 is brutal, holy shit
#she had twins while i was with another family and holy fuck#i am in a micro home on a game where she has earned her own money#i need growing together rn#just so i can have her move out of this tiny house and like#have room for hte babies#DO YOU KNOW HOW TERRIFYING IT IS TO LOSE TRACK OF YOUR INFANT#AND FIND THEY'VE CRAWLED OUTSIDE ON THEIR OWN#GIVE ME BABY GATES HOLY HELL#toddlers are fine because you know#they can feed themselves if you give them food#but INFANTS???????#NO THEY CANNOT#sims 4#the sims 4#the sims 4 infant update#gaming
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Iâm considering joining ver.di, the union for me as a public employee.
The unions and representatives of the public sector are currently in the middle of a round of collective bargaining, weâve had some day-long strikes in various areas, and I am so done. The 2020er round of bargaining was a bad deal for the employees - âitâs a pandemic! Times are tough! Now is not the time to make demands!â and the current demands are, imo, perfectly reasonable considering inflation has since been as bad as it hasnât been in 70 years and the resulting real wage decrease weâve had to deal with in recent years.
The employers representativesâ counteroffer is an insult.
Union demands: 10,5% increase, at least 500⏠increase so those in the lower income brackets, who need it the most, will actually get a proper salary adjustment, and a contract duration of 12 months.
Employers counteroffer: 8% increase, at least 300⏠increase, over a duration of 24 months.
That doesnât even begin to cover inflation of the last year alone, let alone the last few years. And for 24 months? At the speed prices for cost of living are hiking higher and higher these days?
Con: The membership fee, which I... expected to be lower, tbh. And itâs going off my monthly brutto/gross wages, not netto. My salary is middling at best and Iâm unmarried and childfree; I already have plenty of tax and social security deductions.
Pro: Well, they are negotiating for me, right? I canât just insist the union negotiate my wage for me and not help support them. And:
youtube
#I keep telling myself that those who earn more and don't notice the difference can pay union fees#but tbh i think the more people earn the less likely they are to join a union - they simply don't have as much skin in the game#so i'm torn between protecting my interests by not adding another fee to my monthly deductions#and putting my money where my morals are and paying a smaller fee every month for a better chance at a decent bargaining result each round#text post#politics#are any of you in a union?#are any of my german folks maybe even in ver.di?
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hello chat, I'm trying to figure out what I'm gonna do with my life
I really do love posting on tumblr (top ten favorite activities for real) but I need to get a job of some kind
I want to do something creative, and I want to help people. I really like making things too. some of my main ideas are to make content on some website where I can earn money (youtube or twitch or something, but please let me know any suggestions you have, it would genuinely help me so much)
my other idea though is to make merch, but not lame merch, I want to make some genuinely good things to wear. like, I want to design a pair of booty shorts that say "I think everything's going to be okay" on the back
I also am making a TTRPG system, and I've designed a few card games and board games, I have no idea how to publish something like that but that's something I would be interested in :)
any advice you have is appreciated so much, thank you so much for reading <3
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its a little disheartening to remember how many people in my social circles, and even a lot of online friends talked about how they're never gonna touch an activision blizzard product again once the news about the insane workplace abuse broke out. even to this day they get more lawsuits and more news comes out about the horrific shit that happens in their studios.
and those same people are now talking about how much they're loving diablo 4. i see you
#you can talk about how you're just supporting the devs all you want#or its a use case of seperating art from artist as weird as that is to hear in this context#or that 'its just a game quit bitching'#but it would be nice if more people i knew put their money where their mouth is#you're not supporting the devs by buying that game#they mass fire emplyees after record profits so they can get away with paying employees less for the same amount of work#the devs already got payed. the ceo hasn't earned your money#lets worry about reinstating the devs basic human rights first before contributing to the bonus check they'll get denied by management
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đŸ wonwoo x streamer!reader.
the one where wonwoo is pretty down bad for you, a popular streamer. headcanons under the cut.
đŸ new save file ?
game start. getting in to you had been an accident, really. wonwoo already had a relatively established list of streamers that he followed and subscribed to, but then he saw a clip of you dominating as gangplank and he just had to check you out. he didn't even start with one of your streams; instead, he sifted through a couple of youtube video compilations until he found one that wasn't too long. just about fifteen minutes. he watched thatâ only to find himself watching another one, then another, then another.
wonwoo is roughly three hours and eleven videos deep when he concedes: okay, maybe he should check out one of your actual streams. these video compilations are just a taste of the real thing, and he already likes what he's seeing. sure, you could probably use a bit of work when it comes to fps games, but you're a menace in multiplayer online battle arenas. and you have some pretty cute rpg/life simulation game content, too. he can get behind that, he decides.
when wonwoo finally finds time to tune in to one of your streams, he's absolutely floored. all those clips of you don't do justice to the real thing. you're engaging without being overbearing; you manage your chat and your stream like a pro. what really gets him, though, is your voice. he adores the accent, the cadence of it. he's convinced he can listen to it all day. without much thought, he's already signed up to subscribe.
level one. he starts with watching your streams when he catches them. maybe he'll tune in specifically when he hears you're playing a game he's particularly in to, like when you tried your hand at stray. wonwoo pays about as much attention to you as he does with the rest of the other streamers/content creators that he follows.
but that voice. you're easy on the eyes, sure, but it's that voice that always seems to just reel him in. it gets to a point where wonwoo will sometimes have reruns of your stream playing in the background, if only because he likes the sound of you. he might be playing a game of his own or doing something entirely differentâ whatever it is, you're a muted drone that offers a semblance of company.
wonwoo realizes he may be a bit screwed when he realizes he's started looking forward to your bi-monthly streams. twice a month, you're slotted in to his busy schedule. if he can't catch you live, he'll watch the replay. wonwoo tries to convince himself it's a hyperfixation; a passing thing, one that he just has to get out of his system.
check point. except it decidedly isn't a hyperfixation, because three years later, wonwoo is still subscribed, still racing to catch any and all of your streams. it's not something that the public is particularly privy to; it's one thing for wonwoo to be a fan of pro gamers and a completely other thing for him to be simping for a streamer. the boys all have varying levels of awareness as to why wonwoo is always glued to his phone on the first friday of each month, or where some of his hard-earned money goesâ but, for the most part, this is just his.
this, as in you. mingyu is constantly exasperated about it, though it's something of a small and simple truth at this point: jeon wonwoo is a fanboy, and you are the object of his affections. you, with your comforting streams, your insightful commentary, your stellar gameplay. you give the idol a taste of his medicine. he understands, though you, what it means to be just a little delusional and parasocial.
mingyu is always saying that wonwoo ought to make a move, ought to make himself known. the truth? wonwoo is fine with this. he's not sure he even wants to meet you, if he's honest. he's okay with watching from afar, with the illusion of unattainability. there's already dozens of factors piled up against him to begin with. he's not about to complicate things, to hope for more.
wonwoo is happy to donate, to send you gifts, to participate as the nameless and faceless gam3bo1woo in your chat. he's happy to watch your streams, to see you grow in to yourself as a creator; to fail and get back up again, to succeed every so often. this is enough, he thinks to himself time and time again. you're already being selfish as is. this is all we can have, wonwoo, and it's enough. â ... right?
#wonwoo x reader#jeon wonwoo x reader#wonwoo smau#wonwoo imagines#svt x reader#seventeen x reader#svt smau#seventeen smau#ââ á”ᔠ⊠mine#[ this has been on the back of my mind for quite some time now c: so jipeee ]#[ i'll go back to ot13 posting after this + i owe the shua childhood bsf thing i polled !! ]#[ but loser!wonu / down bad!wonu is my religion i fear ]#[ mingyu alw at the scene of the crime xDD ]
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Reasons Why Zayne and MC is now being labeled as "Husband and Wife"
Note: Just my opinion. Not intend to compare with other LaDS men. Just general observation on how Zayne and MC act with each other which makes them like a Husband and Wife.
It is a canon from the main timeline of the game that they do accompany each other on business trips and M/C willingly and even volunteered herself to go with Zayne.
They are constantly in touch aside from the time MC go to N109 zone. She never tell Zayne about it.
When MC thought she is about to die in N109 Zone, she thinks of Zayne. Zayne was the only other LaDS men that was mentioned in Long-Awaited Revelry.
The Akso Hospital Staff, Captain Jenna, Captain , and Carter all knew about them.
In Wander in Wonder event, they so natural in doing stuff. It naturally come to them to do things as a team. While Zayne carve the Jade Pendant, MC works to provide food and earn them enough money to buy the jade. They don't even have to talk about it. This is why I love Zayne.
He is never a hard ass guy with "I will do everything" mentality. In his eyes, they are always a team. Even though I feel that he have much say to their relationship, he let MC do what she can for them. He doesn't take MC's individuality and right to do what she wants and he guides her instead.
In there messages/phone call/memory post, MC is almost always the one to look out for Zayne. She knows that they are both busy and she always do what she can to take care of her and he do the exact the same. I was squealing to that one where they nap together, Zayne is overflowing love for MC.
In Moonlit Dream, he initiated the intimate moment with Zayne. Some might say that MC also initiate the intimate moment with Rafayel. But hear me out. With Rafayel "they are trying to convince the maids" outside the room about their relationship. I'm not saying that what they have is unreal, but with Zayne, she initiate and willingly give herself to him. Same goes in Hidden Motive when MC willingly sits on Zayne's lap.
In Doomsday memory with Zayne, they are so deep in relationship that they are already doing groceries together. And I am kicking myself because Zayne suggested that kissing will be their everyday thing.. OMFGosh!!! This man gone from cold to hot! His character development is so subtle that even I was shock but thrilled with our progress with him.
Magnificent!
And lastly, while Zayne is not fond of MC talking with his male colleague to much, he still let her socialize with them. He isn't the type to be impolite with everyone that talk MC. He even let her plan a not so surprise party for him with his colleague. This is such a huge progress for Zayne since he prefer to be left alone.
Won't you love a guy that was ready to compromise with everything with you just to keep you happy?
#love and deepspace#zayne#zayne love and deepspace#lnds zayne#zayne lads#zayne l&ds#dr zayne#zayne x mc#lads zayne x reader#zayne x y/n#zayne x you#zayne x reader
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From Gold to Mold
Chapter 5: The Departure (Warning: this chapter will contain violence. Read at your own risk.)
Itâs been around two months since you accepted the Megamycete into your body and for the first time since you were dragged to Gotham, youâre actually happy. With its vast archives, youâre bursting with knowledge spanning over the course of four-hundred years, ranging from the academic to the arts and itâs thanks to that knowledge that your grades have skyrocketed in the past few weeks; where once you struggled with something, now you know better than even the teachers, even correcting them when they make a mistake and outpacing the best students in your class. Sure, by this time, itâs a little too late to get to the top of your class, but you really donât care about your ranking; all that matters is being able to complete your homework, class assignments, and tests in record time, giving you time to work on more important things, like your game.
Included in the Megamyceteâs records are the knowledge and memories of many computer programmers, some of them working for Bruce in his tech division; you also have many artists and musicians swimming in your head, many of them talented in making art on computers, so with your newfound knowledge, youâve made tremendous strides in making your game. A year ago, you thought you would have to find a way to crowdfund the game in order to pay artists, musicians, and programmers and it would take a few years to make it ready for players, but now, youâre sure you can have this game ready by yourself within the year.
Not only has your intellectual attributes increased, but so have your physical abilities; the Megamyceteâs records also include many athletes, both professional and student, and you know how to play every sport thatâs ever been played in Gotham, but you havenât shown any improvement in gym class. You never had any interest in sports before and you sure as hell donât know. Plus, if you suddenly start showing everyone in the school that youâve all of a sudden become smarter and stronger out of nowhere, you might attract enough attention that not even the Waynes can ignore.
And that wonât end well for anyone.
Speaking of them, you know they heard about what happened at the My Alibi bar and are working overtime to find the culprit, the only thing they know for certain is that it was the work of someone new. It actually brought a smile to your face when you learned about it, that for all their detective skills, they have no idea that the person theyâre hunting for is under their own roof. While Damian is the only one to have ever told you to your face, you know they all think youâre stupid; that because you chose to deal with your fucked up life in a semi-healthy way and not dress up in some stupid little costume and fistfight psychopaths, that must mean thereâs something wrong with you in the head.
Fuck all of them. You donât need them and tomorrow night, youâll be driving back to Goodsprings.
When you turned eighteen, you inherited all of your Mommaâs assets, namely her life insurance policy, bank accounts, and royalties from all her books, all of which was worth a little over two-million; at first, you were going to save that money for when you moved back to Goodsprings in case you had to fix up your old home and pay the bills, but after almost dying due to relying on bus stops and bumming rides off of Alfred was unfair to the man, you decided to take some of the money and invest it in a car. The Megamycete had absorbed many modern car experts, so you were able to pick out a brand new car that was worth the hit to your wallet.
Plus, you had a way of earning a pretty penny and stick it to Bruce at the same time: sell his proprietary technology to Lex Corp. Many of Bruceâs employees are buried in Gothamâs cemeteries, some of them working on the latest technological breakthrough at the time of their deaths and you knew Bruceâs biggest business rival would kill to see what Bruceâs scientists are cooking up in their lab.
You reached out to the man using your computer knowledge to send him an email that couldnât be traced back to you, stating you had the specs for several of Wayne Enterprisesâ latest large scale projects and asked him if he was interested in buying them for a couple million in cash. Knowing heâd never consider the deal without some proof, you included bits and pieces of what you were offering, just enough to show you were legit, but not enough to be useful without the rest of it.
Sure enough, he took the hit and now, here you are, meeting with the most powerful man in Metropolis in his office, which overlooks the entire city. Of course, youâre smart enough to not show him your face, so you took the form of some Joe Schmo that died years ago.
âI donât believe it,â the man exclaims as he sifts through the papers you drew the designs on. âMedicine, experimental aircraft specs, software designs! Over a million spent in corporate espionage and nothing to show for it. Then you come along, offering more than enough to recoup those losses and then some.â He looks back at you, an ominous twinkle in his eye that makes you shiver. âAny chance I can rely on your services in the future?â
âPerhaps,â you say in your disguised voice. âIf I get my hands on more WE secrets, Iâll keep you in mind. Now, about my money?â
âOf course,â he purrs. He snaps at his assistant, who places the briefcase she was holding on his desk and opens it, revealing more money than youâve ever seen in your entire life. âTwenty million in unmarked bills. I trust thatâs more than enough?â
âYes,â you say, trying to hide your shock from earning enough money to last you the rest of your life in just a few seconds. âI believe it is.â
(We see no signs of sabotage or subterfuge,) the Megamycete says. (It would appear Luthor intends to keep his word. For once.)
âMercy will see you out,â Lex says as you take the briefcase. He then holds out a business card. âAnd this is my personal number and email. If you have more secrets youâre looking to sell, call me day or night.â
âThank you,â you say as you pocket the card.
And with that, you follow the assistant out of Lexâs office and down to the lobby.
(You must be happy to have amassed such a fortune,) the Megamycete states as you walk out the front door. (And exacting revenge on Bruce Wayne makes this moment all the better.)
âYouâre damn right,â you respond with a chuckle.
(Perhaps you could use some of that money to enjoy yourself? Since our joining, you have been hard at work with your education or your project. Taking some time to have fun will do you a world of good.)
Its words resonate with you. Sure, youâve been busy with catching up on school and the gaps in your game, but youâve done some fun things the last few weeks, right?
(No, we are afraid you have not.)
âDamn,â you mutter. âGuess I should change that.â You glance down at the briefcase in your hand. âWell, we have twenty mil of Lexâs money in here. How about have a night out in Gotham?â
(We agree wholeheartedly,â it exclaims, its voice full of joy and anticipation. (We look forward to seeing what you have planned.)
You chuckle as you change your form to your hardened mold armor and wings and take flight into Metropolisâ night sky. Fortunately for you, itâs a quiet night in the massive city, so Superman isnât flying around, so you donât have to worry about bumping into the Man of Steel.
âI gotta say, this city looks a helluva lot better than Gotham,â you remark as you soar above the skyscrapers. âGotham looks like a giant tomb while Metropolis looks like the future.â
(Yes, we have noticed that no matter the era, the architecture of Gotham refuses to change. The city seems to be doomed to remain locked in a by-gone age. We look forward to seeing the world beyond.)
âYouâll love Goodsprings. Sure, itâs the size of a stamp compared to a behemoth like Gotham, but you can actually sit on your porch at night and not have to worry about gunshots or escaped lunatics. People actually have conversations with one another instead of telling you to fuck off.â
In a less than thirty minutes, you arrive back at Gotham and land on the roof of Wayne Manor and quietly sneak in. Jokerâs still on the loose, no doubt waiting for the perfect moment to unveil his latest sick and twisted plan, so everyoneâs out and Alfredâs stuck in the Batcave, keeping an eye on camera feeds.
You take out a few bills from the briefcase before hiding it under your mattress and heading out to the back where you keep your car parked. While Bruce has multiple cars, every single one of them is a high-end luxury car that costs way more than yours, so you didnât want to take the risk of Bruce or the others finding it and doing something to it, so you keep your car behind a large barn thatâs used to hold all the groundskeeping equipment.
As you drive off the property, you tell your phone to dial Alfred, who answers it halfway through the first ring.
âMaster Y/N, is everything alright?â
âYeah, Alfred, everythingâs fine. I was just letting you know that Iâm going out for a bit. Thought some time outside the house would do me some good.â
âWhile I agree that you need to get more, perhaps tonight isnât the best time,â he says hesitantly. âI mean, the Joker is still out there, no doubt planning another heinous act.â
Youâre touched by the manâs concern for you. Really, you are. But, with the Megamycete, you have nothing to fear.
âDonât worry, Alfred, Iâll be fine.,â you reassure him. âI promise I wonât be gone too long. Iâll just be in Amusement Mile for an hour or two.â
âStill, I wish you werenât going by yourself. Perhaps I can get one of your siblingsââ
âNo,â you cut him off. âIâm going out to have fun before I graduate, not be miserable. If I wanted to be tortured, Iâd throw myself in Arkhamâs Intensive Care Building.â
âI know why you feel that way, Master Y/N, but maybe you can give them another chance? Youâll be graduating tomorrow night and leaving after the ceremony. I just donât want you leaving us under such bad circumstances.â
You know the manâs been trying to get the Waynes to notice you, but theyâre all busy with their own lives in addition to being vigilantes at night, either fighting crime in Gotham, BlĂŒdhaven, or elsewhere around the world. And when theyâre all home, theyâre spending time together, having fun that was never meant to include you. You learned that after countless times coming downstairs and seeing them, eating delicious food, laughing, watching movies, and enjoying themselves without you. After a while, you stopped going downstairs when you heard noises coming from the living room.
You donât belong here, either in the Wayne Family or in Gotham. You never did. You know it, they know it, and deep down, Alfred knows it, whether he wants to admit it or not. Youâre a Gould, not a Wayne and thereâs nothing thatâs going to change that.
âAlfred, I think the ship for us being a âhappy, loving familyâ sailed long time ago. Theyâve made it clear that thereâs no room for me in their world and I sure as hell donât want them in mine. All I want to do is go home.â
âI understand,â he says after a brief moment of silence. âI hope you have fun, Master Y/N. And please, if you get into trouble, call me straight away.â
âI will, Alfred. Iâll talk to you later.â And with that, you hang up.
You let out a sigh when the line goes dead. You hated saying things like that to the poor man, but itâs how you feel about the Waynes. Ever since you moved in, all you heard about Bruce is that heâs a caring man and a loving father, but that care and love only appears to be for those he deems worthy of it. For someone like you, a bastard born from a careless one-night stand, he has nothing but neglect and indifference.
And the same goes for the others. Theyâre all a dysfunctional hodgepodge that are saturated with so much trauma and paranoia that itâs a miracle that they havenât killed each other yet. Youâre sure if they were locked up in Arkham and studied, they could fill an entire libraryâs worth of psychological textbooks.
(You should not concern yourself with them. They have made it clear that they are not worthy of your love or forgiveness. After so many years of suffering, you are so close to breaking free from your prison. By this time tomorrow, you will be back where you belong.)
âYeah, back home. Finally.â
After thirty grueling minutes of dealing with Gothamâs traffic, you finally reach your destination: Bat Burger. As much as you hate any mention of Batman, Gothamâs cashed in on the âBat Crazeâ and inserts him into anything they can. At least the foodâs good; almost good enough to make you ignore the cartoonish Batfamily designs on all the walls. Emphasis on the almost.
âWelcome to Bat Burger,â the teenage cashier, dressed in a uniform designed around Batman, says in a monotone voice as you approach the counter. A brief look in his eyes tells you heâd rather be anywhere else right now. âHow can I bring justice to your hunger today?â
âCan I get a Batburger with ketchup, large fries, and a large Bat Cola?â
âDo you want to Jokerize those fries,â he asks as he types in your order.
âNo thanks.â You hand him a hundred dollar bill. âI donât need the change. Keep it as a tip.â
âOh,â he exclaims, the dead look in his eye gone, replaced by shock. âYou sure?â
âYeah,â you respond, happy to see such a transformation in the teen.
âThank you,â he stutters as he hands you your cup for your drink. âYour foodâll be out in a minute. Let me know if you need anything else.â
You nod as you take the cup to the drink station.
(That was quite charitable of you,) the Megamycete remarks as you fill up your cup. (Such an action is rare in this city.)
âHe looked like he needed it. I know what itâs like to be that miserable. Plus, itâs not like weâre hurting for money. If I ever run low, I still have plenty of Bruceâs secrets I can sell to Lex for a couple million.â
(Indeed. It would appear he had many of his employees working on secret projects that were not meant to be released. Perhaps such things were only meant for his nightly activities?)
âWouldnât doubt it,â you say as you sit down. âKinda surprised no oneâs figured it out. Batmanâs toys look expensive and thereâs not that many people in Gotham that could foot a bill that big other than Bruce Wayne.â
Not long after that, your order was called and you collected your fast food goodness. You practically moan as you take your first bite.
(This is quite appealing,) it says as you take another bite. (Savoring the food in real time is far batter than savoring it from the memories of the deceased.)
âIâve wanted to come here for a while,â you say as you take a few fries. âAlways saw the garbage cans full of Batburger bags when they came back from patrol. They never offered to take me and I never asked.â
(Their loss, we assure you. We can think of no better meal companion.)
âShucks,â you chuckle. âYouâre making me blush.â
After your meal, you decided to go to the arcade a few blocks away from the restaurant, eager to show the Megamycete all your favorite games. Also, with it behind you, you might be able to earn more tickets and win some of the bigger prizes. Your strideâs broken when you hear screaming, gunfire, and people running from the Gotham Arcade.
âWhatâs going on,â you ask a man as he tries to run past you.
âItâs Joker,â he exclaims, his eyes full of fear. âHeâs shooting up the place!â
He runs away as you duck into an alley and call upon the mold to form the armor youâve been using a lot lately. As you walk towards the arcade, you look through the roots and see the Bats scattered across the city, handling other crises; meaning they wouldnât be here anytime soon.
âGuess itâs up to us to save the day.â
(The Clown has added many into our archives, all of whom spent their last moments of life terrified and in pain. We think it is time he knows fear.)
You walk into the arcade and are greeted by with over a dozen bodies, all of them riddled with bullet holes.
âMy god,â you say, stepping over two teen boys who look like brothers. âThere wasnât a point to this. This is an arcade, not a bank. He just did this because he could.â
You follow the sound of gunfire until you see the Joker, dressed in his signature purple suit, shooting at a bunch of arcade cabinets.
âThis is so much fun,â he exclaims as he rips a bunch of tickets from the machines. âDonât you agree, Harley?â
âSure do, Mistah J,â his partner, clad in her usual red and black spandex and jester hat, answers as she slams her giant mallet down on a poor Whack-A-Mole machine. She bends down and rips out a bunch of tickets from the smoking husk and holds it up to Joker like some offering to an ancient god. âLook, Puddinâ, I won so many tickets!â
Itâs then the two lunatics notice your presence.
âWell, well, well,â Joker says as he pockets his ill-gotten tickets. âNot the costumed freak I was expecting.â He holds his hands up to his head. âYouâre missing the ears and everything.â
The two laugh and you roll your eyes under your mask.
âLooks like Olâ Batsy has a new brat in his nest,â she jokes. âSo, whoâre you?â
âOh, Harley, his name doesnât matter.â He pulls out his gun and points it at you. âHeâll just be another corpse.â
He fires the gun and this time, the bullet actually penetrates your armor and pierces your lower torso. You wince at the feeling of a bullet in your gut.
(It would appear the clown uses a higher caliber than the common scum of Gotham,) the Megamycete explains as it heals your body, stitching the wound closed and hardening your armor to repel the stronger bullets. (Funny how he possesses such toys after being in Arkham for so long.)
âOh, youâre a tough one, arenât you,â he says, seeing that youâre not going down. âNormally, his little birdies go down from just a little love tap. Are you sure you belong to Batman?â
Now that pisses you off. Bruce may have had a hand in bringing you into the world, but youâre not his. Youâre so pissed, in fact, that you raise your right arm and call upon a long tendril that pierces the center of the clownâs chest and pull him towards you.
âMistah J,â Harley shouts in fear as you bring Joker to your face. Sheâs obviously paralyzed by fear because she stands there, doing nothing but watching the scene unfold before her.
His pasty white chin is covered in blood as it pours from his mouth and his eyes are wide as saucers.
âNow ainât that a surprise,â he says with a chuckle, causing him to cough up blood.
âGet this through your sick and twisted head, clown,â you hiss. âIâm not Batmanâs anything. Thereâs no words in any language that can express how much I hate him.â
You twist the tendril and take pleasure in watching him wince in pain.
(He fears you more than the Bat right now. Good. You are far superior than that worm and his collection of misfits. You always were.)
You feel yourself grin at that. You are better than them, arenât you?
âAnd as much as I hate to admit it, Jason was right on how to deal with you. When you have a tumor, you donât dress up in some stupid costume and beat it until it stops being a tumor.â You lift him far above, his head almost touching the ceiling. He flails around, but your tendril holds him in place. âYou take a knife and cut it out.â
And with that, your tendril sprouts dozens of smaller ones that burst through his body, rendering it full of holes that it looks like a blood soaked piece of Swiss cheese. Said tendrils twist around until what was once the Joker is reduced to chunks of meat.
âMister J,â Harley shouts, her voice full of agony, as his remains fall to the floor, landing with a wet splat. She looks at the pile of flesh, tears streaming from her eyes before turning to you, her gaze full of hate. âYou bastard!â
She charges at you, her mallet raised and ready to strike, but you wrap her in your tendril, stopping her advance and making her drop her weapon. She struggles and as she does, she lets out loud sobs; ones were intimately familiar with. You let out similar ones when you lost your Momma and over the years youâve spent in Wayne Manor.
âYou killed my Puddinâ,â she weeps. âWhen Bats hears about this, heâll hunt you down like a damn animal! And when youâre thrown in Arkham, Iâll be waiting for ya!â
(She has a point. Batman and his flock are already looking for you and when they learn you have killed the clown, they will make finding you their top priority; they will marshal every resource at their disposal to finding your identity. Even if she cannot provide them with your identity, she presents a risk to our secrecy.)
You ponder on this as you watch Harley struggle against her bindings, her sobs now filling the arcade. You know the Megamycete is right; sheâs a loose end you canât afford, especially when youâre so close to going home. Plus, you know with Joker gone, Harley has no one to control her and with how racked with grief over the loss of her âlove,â sheâs a huge risk to everyone on Gotham.
You decide the risks are too great and command a smaller tendril to emerge from the one holding Harley, have it wrap itself around her neck, and quickly snap it, the noise it makes ringing in your ears like a gunshot. You release her from your grip and she tumbles to the floor, lifeless.
(It had to be done,) it assures you. (She represented a threat not just to you, but to the rest of the city. There is no telling how many people would have been hurt the next time she broke free from the asylumâs confines. Plus, the influence of the clown would have stayed with her, even after his death. She would most likely never have returned to what she once was. The rest of her life would have been spent mourning over the clown, inflicting pain onto the innocent, and escaping from and being returned to the asylum. You showed her mercy.)
You hear the words and in some way, they make sense, but right now, you donât feel like you showed mercy. Youâve heard of the Tragedy of Doctor Harleen Quinzel, everyone in Gotham has at one point or another; the story of a poor psychiatrist new to Arkham who had been prayed upon by a manipulative mass murderer, turning her into his demented partner in crime and cutting a bloody swath across Gotham every time they escaped, leaving behind many orphans, widows, and corpses in their wake. She had spent years listening to other peopleâs problems and for once, wanted someone to listen to her, to make her feel like she was important.
In many ways, you can relate. Maybe in another life, you two couldâve been friends, wallowing together in your shared misery.
Just then, you learn from the roots that the Bats have been informed of the Jokerâs appearance and are now on their way here to capture hm, unaware that youâd already beaten them to the punch.
âLetâs go,â you say, moving quickly. âWeâre done here.â
In no time flat, youâre back to your car and out of the area before the Bats showed up.
âSorry, buddy, but it looks like we may have to take a rain check on that night out.)
(We understand. And you should not feel guilty because of your actions. It is thanks to you that not only many will be able to sleep peacefully in their beds, but many beyond this mortal realm will finally know peace. While many threats to Gotham remain, its largest one has finally been put down.)
âYeah, I guess.â
(It is also worth noting that we have only been joined for a short time, you have accomplished much more than Batman has the last two decades.)
That actually makes you feel a little better. Yeah, Bruce has been doing this for years and Gothamâs still a hellhole. In the span of a singe night, you make it visibly more safer. And to top it all off, heâll be racking his brain trying to find out who the hell killed him and heâll have no idea it was you, his forgotten firstborn son.
âThat does make me feel a little better. Thanks.â
âOk, when you find out who did this, can you please tell me so I can end them a thank you card before you lock em up,â Jason says as they watch what remains of the Joker being collected into a large evidence bag by GCPD while Harleyâs body is placed on a gurney and covered by a sheet before being wheeled out.
âYou know, I hate to say it,â Jim says as he dismisses a detective. âBut I think this is going to make the city way safer. Hell, the mayor may want to offer whoever did this a key to the city.â
âIt doesnât matter if all crime in Gotham stops because of this,â Bruce responds. âIt was done the wrong way and when I find out who did this, Iâll deliver them to Arkham myself. Iâll take Jokerâs remains back to the Batcave, see if I can find any clues on the identity of his killer. Iâll give them back to you along with my findings.â
âThanks,â the police commissioner responds as he takes the bag from a forensic investigator and hands it to him.
âCome on, B,â Jason whines as they leave the arcade. âJoker was a piece of shit and it was only gonna end with his death. Whoever this person is, do they really deserve to rot in Arkham over someone like him?â
âWhoever this person is, they took the law into their hands.â
âPot meet kettle,â Jason mutters, but Bruce doesnât acknowledge the remark.
âAnd this person clearly has powers. If they go off the deep end, thereâs no telling what will happen. We need to find them before something happens and someone gets hurt.â
Finding this person just became their top priority.
This is it, the night youâve been waiting for: graduation. Itâs funny, when you first woke up this morning, you could feel every second of the day tick as you waited for the graduation ceremony. The only thing that made the time go by fast was you thinking about the conversation you overheard in the kitchen this morning.
Bruce and Tim talking about spending the day at their computers, analyzing every camera feed in Amusement Mile to look for whoever killed Joker. You had to bite your tongue to keep you from laughing. Here you are, the person theyâre chomping at the bit to catch, and they have no idea youâre in the other room. You should be happy that they finally want something to do with you, but you know itâs only because you sent Joker to hell, something Bruce shouldâve done years ago.
And when you heard that Tim was skipping the graduation ceremony to aid in patrolling? You immediately did a cartwheel down the hall. Not only will you finally be free from Gotham, but you wonât have to share the spotlight with Tim and risk catching their attention, though they probably wouldâve had no idea who you were. Alfred tried to get Tim to reconsider getting Bruce to attend, but when those two are obsessing over something, itâs impossible to tear them away from it. The butler tried to tell Bruce that he had another son graduating, but the man left before the sentence could be complete, stating he had work to do.
At this point, it doesnât even phase you. You know theyâve practically forgotten your existence and you couldnât care less. You have everything you need to go back home and start your new life, you donât need them for anything.
âMaster Y/N, are you sure you donât want me to call master Bruce and have him attend your graduation,â the butler fusses over your cap and gown for the umpteenth time. âAs you father, he should be here to see one of the most important moments in your life.â
âItâs fine, Alfred, I donât need him here. Frankly, with the way heâs acted over the years, Iâm glad heâs not here. Same with Tim.â
The butler looks at you and you grimace at your remark. Ever since becoming the Megamyceteâs host, youâve noticed changes in your behavior. Where once you use to keep comments like that to yourself, you know say them in front of Alfred, unafraid for his reaction. Or how you use to always speak in a barely audible whisper for fear of being overheard by the Waynes, now you talk to Alfred at a volume that could easily attract unwanted attention. And youâre certain heâs noticed your change, too. God knows that man is aware of everything that goes on in his house.
(It is because you no longer have that fear. Before, you were a timid little thing, afraid of being seen by a predator lying in wait. Now? You are the hunter. They canât hurt you anymore.)
Alfred opens his mouth to day something, but one of the teachers calls for all seniors to make their way to the field, signaling the beginning of the ceremony. He heads to the stands while you follow your fellow seniors to the field where youâre herded in alphabetical order. Once the teacher was satisfied with the order, she typed on her phone and the graduation music started playing from the speakers at the top of the stands.
As you follow in line, you look up to see Alfred in the front row, holding his phone up, no doubt intending to take several pictures and record just as many videos. You smile at the man, thankful to have him here on this important night. Itâs then you think about your Momma and how sheâd be cheering for you so hard, everyone could hear her. You feel something slide down your face and realize youâre crying. This is an important day in your life and youâre missing an important person in your life.
(She would be so proud of you. If your memories are anything indication of her character, she would give anything to be here right now. While the butler can never replace her, he is an acceptable stand-in.)
âYeah,â you whisper as you take your seat near the front of the stage set up in the middle of the field. âHe is. And Iâm gonna miss him like hell.â
While youâre overjoyed to leave Gotham in your rear view and never step foot in it ever again, youâll really miss Alfred. The man has been your rock since day one, celebrating your birthday which also happens to be the day of your Mommaâs death. He held you while you cried and was your only company in the lonely halls of Wayne Manor.
Maybe you can hire him as your butler? Your smaller house would no doubt be much easier to clean than that behemoth of a mansion. Plus, Alfred is way more than people like the Waynes deserve.
After an eternity, the valedictorian finishes his speech and takes his place at up front, which is when the headmaster walks up to the podium and begins to call the students to come up and receive their diplomas. With each name called, you feel chest begin to tighten. This is the first time in years that so many eyes will be on you. What if you fall flat on your face while walking? Or try to shake the headmasterâs hand with your left instead of your right? Orâ
(Relax,) the Megamycete says, bringing you out of your thoughts. (All will be fine. When your name is called, you will rise, walk with a level of pride none of your peers could ever hope to match, accept your diploma with such grace the headmaster will b in total awe, and walk back to your seat with the same pride as before. You are better than any of these children and you will make them know it.)
Hearing those words instantly makes you relax, your the knot that had been building up in your chest untangling, allowing you to breathe again.
âThanks,â you say, taking a much needed deep breath. âGlad to know you think so highly of me.â
(We speak only the truth. We have seen the lives and memories of countless people over the past four centuries and not a single one holds a candle to you. You possess much potential and now that we are joined, we know you will unleash that potential and the entire world will be in awe of it.)
Wow. You actually have no idea how to respond to that.
(Pay attention, now. You will be called soon.)
Itâs then you realize the headmaster is now on the Fs, almost to the Gs.
Thereâs three people ahead of you.
Then two.
Then one.
ThenâŠ
âY/N Gould.â
This is it, your biggest moment in Gotham Academy. You stand up and walk with the grace the Megamycete said you would, accept your diploma from the headmaster with your left hand and shake with your right, and walk back to your seat. As you do, you see Alfred, a smile stretched across his face and cheering your name as he continues to hold his phone, probably recording a video just before your name was called.
(Excellent, Y/N,) the Megamycete praises as you sit back down. (We offer our most sincere congratulations on your triumph.)
You stare down at the piece of paper down in your hands and you while the evidence is right there in black and white, it still doesnât feel real. Youâre actually in awe of the fancy kind of paper Gotham Academy uses to print its diplomas, with its Coleen gilded edges, bold ink, beautiful calligraphy, and soft feel.
Hell, Alfred may fight you to keep it so he can frame it and mount it somewhere in Wayne Manor.
After that, the rest of the ceremony seems to speed up, the last of the names being called, the headmaster deeming all of you graduates of Gotham Academy, and the graduating class being told to gather behind the chairs for the moment every senior looks forward to: the Cap Throw. You follow your fellow graduates with bated breath, eager to throw your cap and complete your graduation experience.
âOn three,â the valedictorian yells from the center of the crowd. âOne! Two! Three!â
You eagerly toss your cap with everyone else, your cheers and laughs joining everyone elseâs. You watch with joy as the caps soar above you all and begin to float back down to the field, your eyes tracking your cap, which you had decorated with paintings (the Megamycete allowing you to make them flawlessly) of the team you beat Cynthia from PokĂ©mon Platinum with: Infernape, Luxray, Staraptor, Floatzel, Lucario, and Garchomp (you had no idea so many used the same team before you discovered the internet).
You collect you cap while so many try to find theirs and had towards the exit to meet Alfred.
âCongratulations, my boy,â he greets you, his wide smile still adorning his face, before bringing you into a tight hug.
âThan you, Alfred,â you respond, returning the hug.
When you separate, he flags down a passing man. âPardon me, sir, would you be so kind as to take a picture of the two of us?â
âSure,â the man says, taking his phone and aiming at you and taking the picture.
âThank you, good sir,â the butler says as he takes his phone back.
He types on his phone and not even a second later, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket beneath your gown, indicating he sent you the picture.
âIâm so proud of you, Master Y/N. Youâve certainly earned this.â
âThank you, Alfred. And not just for this, but for everything.â
You two leave the field and he follows you to the gym so you can return your gown and once you do, you two make your way to your car, which is when you realize this is the part of the evening where you two say your goodbyes and you leave for Goodsprings while he returns to Wayne Manor. And the sweet moment youâve been waiting years for now turns bittersweet. Youâve looked forward to this moment ever since you started high school and while youâre ecstatic to finally leave this godforsaken city, you hate that you have to leave Alfred behind.
âMaster Y/N,â he says, breaking the tense silence. âI know youâve been waiting for this moment for so long, but do you have to leave right now? Maybe your return to Nevada can wait until morning? You really shouldnât be driving so late.â
âWe can put it off for as long as we want, still wonât change the outcome.â
âI know,â the poor man sighs. âBut still, itâs over forty hours from here to Goodsprings.â
âIâll be fine, Alfred. Really. Iâll be super careful. Iâll stop at a motel a few hours from here, take regular breaks, stop at restaurants to eat, and Iâll be there before you know it and in one piece.â
âI just wish I could convince you to stay. Iâll miss you, terribly. The manor wonât be the same without you.â
âIâll miss you, too, Alfred.â
You two pull each other into another hug.
âPromise me that youâll call me if you run into any trouble, be it on the road or in Nevada.â
âI will.â
âAnd that youâll try to visit whenever you can. Iâll arrange for Master Bruceâs jet to come and get you, you just say the word.â
âIâll try.â
Youâre lying. Youâre lying and both of you know it. But, neither of you bring it up.
âAnd promise me youâll take care of yourself. I didnât raise you for over ten years just for you to end up in the hospital just because you didnât feed yourself.â
âI will,â you laugh. You know heâs joking, he taught you everything he knows about cooking, cleaning, and housekeeping. That, combined with the Megamyceteâs records, you have everything you need to keep your house together.
âI just wish your father and siblings were here.â You just did manage to fight off the flinch at the mention of those assholes. âThis is an important moment of your life and they should be here to celebrate it with you.â
âI know you do, Alfred,â you respond, thankful that youâre still hugging so he canât see the face youâre making at the thought of them being here, insulting you and making you feel like graduating somehow made you feel like a failure.
Finally, you two pull apart and with one last goodbye and promise to be careful, you get into your car, the backseat covered by boxes that couldnât be placed in the trunk. When you woke up this morning, you packed your computer, video games, books, and other things that you refused to leave behind at Wayne Manor, your Mommaâs pen sitting in your pocket as you refused to part with it. Sure, there were some things were left behind and while Alfred told you repeatedly he could arrange for them to be delivered to your house, you told him that anything you left behind wasnât important and could be thrown away.
You didnât leave much behind, some stuff like a few books you hadnât read in years, a bunch of notebook paper with stupid ideas for video games that you had years and threw away when you realized no one in their right mind would play them, and an old journal you kept when you first move to Gotham. You archived every major event leading up to Damianâs arrival in those pages, which is when you finally filled it up. You briefly thought about keeping it, but decided against it. You had your stay at Wayne Manor burned into your memory and werenât eager to have been more reminders around you. Plus, youâre about to start your new life, so thereâs no need to carry it around. Maybe you can start keeping a new journal?
You start up your car, put it into reverse, and when you backed up enough, put it into drive and wave at Alfred as you leave the parking lot and follow your GPS to Goodsprings. Thatâs when your phone finally connects to your radio and starts playing music, Hollow from FFVII Remake, playing at just the right volume.
âWow,â you chuckle as the music begins. âTalk about great timing.â
(We agree. This song is about heading into the unknown with hope; perfect for the start of your new life. It is as if fate itself is smiling down upon you.)
âSeems like it. You with me, buddy?â
(Every step of the way. Until the very end.)
And with that, you pick up speed as you get onto the interstate.
Alfred watches you drive off and only when youâre out of sight does he finally shed a tear. To see Master Y/N leave is one of the most difficult moments of his life.
He understands, of course. Not only did you leave much behind after the tragic and unexpected loss of your mother, but Master Wayne and the children had given you zero reasons to stay. In fact, theyâd given you a million reasons to leave.
But he canât let you go. Not his favorite member of the family.
Heâd never admit it to anyone, but out of everyone in the Wayne Family, he cared for you the most. You were raised by a wonderful, loving woman who knew how to properly raise a child and didnât skulk about at night, battling with criminals night after night. You had a normal life and knew what life was like outside of being a vigilante, bringing a much needed balance to the manor.
You were a delight to raise, always saying please and thank you, offering to help around the manor, and carrying on pleasant conversations that were the highlight of his day. And if the family would take the time to get to know you, theyâd come to the same conclusion he did many years ago.
However, as brilliant as everyone in the family is, they can also be equally foolish. Too wrapped up in their civilian and vigilante lives to see the gift they had been given, but spurred for years. And now, youâre gone.
But not for long. You belong here, with your family, and by God heâll make sure you know it, your father knows it, and your siblings know it. One way or another, heâll bring your father to his senses, and when that day comes, heâll make him go to you and beg for your forgiveness, even if he has to get on his hands and knees. And after that, your father will bring you back home, where youâll be lavished in the love they shouldâve shown you from the beginning.
Heâll do whatever it takes to bring you back home, where you belong. He doesnât care what he has to do or how long it takes, heâll make sure you come back to the place where you belong. And when you, youâll be showered with so much love that youâll never want to leave ever again.
A/N: I got lucky this week. I was going to have 4 tests this week (2 regular tests and 2 midterms), but a professor I have for two classes got sick and cancelled, pushing the tests for next Monday and Tuesday. With only one midterm left and a study guide basically matching the test, I had plenty of free time to make this chapter. Hope you all enjoyed it!
Tag List: @space1crow @bat1212 @minkyungseokie @nosyrobin @bunbunboysworld @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @feral-childs-word @phoenixgurl030 @soriansick @hellcatsworld @prettyboys247 @paolexsstuff @c0l1fl0r @starryperson @kore-of-the-underworld @kiarst @vanessa-boo @moxiemy @greatwhisperspaper @tatsuri-zomushiki @starsdotalk @luna57765 @jsprien213 @lizz-lrm @chericia @lunaluz432 @orbitingtraveler @roseytheteacup @meechibee @bellethesleepypotato @exactlynumberonekryptonite @marsmabe @ellaprime7
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financial literacy continuedâ.àłàż*:đđ”
so i released a poll if you guys would like a post on financial literacy and the results are here. so im gonna share some things that i learned while taking a financial literacy courseâŠđŹđ
HOW TO SAVE MONEY ;
automatically deposit a certain percentage of ur income into ur savings account so that u dont even have to think about it
to do something more FUN tho, (at least in my opinion) is to make a challenge where u have to save every $10 dollar bill, or $20 dollar bill or whatever. just something to make saving money seem like a game if u wanna have some fun with it.
EMERGANCY FUND ;
most experts will tell u that ur emergency fund should be 3-6 months of ur needed expenses. so calculate ur needed expenses and multiply that by 6 to figure out how much you'd need to have in ur emergency fund.
PAYING YOURSELF FIRST ;
you should always put urself first in every single situation including financially. so to pay urself first simply means to put ur future and needs before anything else. FOR EXAMPLE... let's say u wanna buy an ipad by the end of the year, an ipad is $345.
lets also say that u get paid weekly, so you'd divide $345 by the number of weeks in a year (52) you'd get 6.6. so you'd have to save roughly $6-$6.50 a week which isnt a lot at all. and you'd be getting what u want.
INTEREST AND CREDIT ;
interest is like a reward that the bank gives you for trusting them to look after your money. the more money you have in your account, and the longer you keep it there, the more interest you can earnâŠđŹđ
so the bank calculates interest as a percentage of the total amount in a bank account. so if the bank pays a 1% interest you'll earn $1 for every $100 in ur bank account over the course of a year. so if u have $500 in ur account you'll get $5. its not a lot, but interest builds on itself.
credit is the ability of the consumer to acquire goods or services prior to payment with the faith that the payment will be made in the futureâŠđŹđ
for example missing payment deadlines can negatively affect ur credit score. why is this important? if u wanna go to college and wanna use student loans, u might not be able to if ur credit history is bad. as ur credit history grows you'll get a credit score. the higher ur score, the better ur credit is.
BUILDING CREDIT ;
get a secured card. a secured credit card is a special type of credit card with a down payment. when you open the card, you will give the credit card company a deposit to hold. it can be as little as $100. the company holds the money for you and gives you a credit card with a line of credit equal to your deposit
sign up for victoria's secret direct paper mailers. you'll get a coupon each month for 1 free panty for every purchase. when u go to the mall, get urself a panty and a sweet treat đ§ (DO NOT PUT ANYTHING ON THE CARD THAT U CANT IMMEDIATELY PAY OFF)
and then go home and pay ur credit card bill off, and then dont use it again until the next month.
#honeytonedhottieâïž#law of assumption#it girl#becoming that girl#self concept#that girl#self care#it girl energy#advice#dream girl tips#dream girl#dream life#beauty and brains#financial literacy#investments#personal finance#information#pink academia#girly#hyper femininity#hyper feminine#girl blog#fabulous#fabulously feminine#glamor#glamorous#self improvement#self growth#maintenance#rich and pretty
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Arthur Morgan x fem!reader
a/n: He doesnât get TB in this. Why? Because this is fanfiction and Iâm god and fuck canon (I just finished the game, Iâm emotionally distraught and needed this)
Warnings: brief attempted SA
Summary: Your father is a gambling man and youâre always the collateral. He refuses to pay the wrong man and now youâre being dragged across country roads to a man youâve never met. Arthur Morgan, an outlaw down to the bone, is in charge of making sure you get there in one piece. Except, he doesnât feel right selling a woman off like sheâs property.
Youâre done being a doormat and letting the men in your life tell you what youâre worth. Youâve got three days to escape him, but youâre not prepared for the reality of the real world.
âPut your hands where I can see âem, cowboy.â Arthurâs shoulders tense and he curses under his breath. His hand darts to the revolver on his hip, but the second his fingers twitch towards it he hears a hammer being pulled back. The cool barrel of a gun digs into his neck and he raises his hand in surrender.Â
The man behind him lets out a familiar laugh and tugs him around. Arthur rolls his eyes and glares at Dutch. âThe hell are you doing?â
Dutch clears his throat, still laughing slightly. âRelax, Arthur, but if I had been an OâDriscoll youâd be dead right now.â Arthur doesnât point out that the only thing they have to worry about out here are the Lemonye raiders. Heâs more focused on why Dutch is even out here. Rarely does he leave Shady Belle to traverse the streets of St. Denis.Â
None of them are particularly fond of the place. If he wanted to step in horse shit every other step heâd go to a stable. At least those smell better. Dutch slings an arm around Arthurâs shoulder, tugging him away from the saloon he was heading towards.Â
âYouâre gonna have to save the cheating for later, Arthur, I need you for something.â
âYou know I donât cheat,â Arthur jokes and Dutch grins at him and itâs nice. This is familiar to him. This feels right. Dutch has been odd lately, the jobs heâs been taking, the risks heâs been imposing, none of them feels like the man he knows.Â
Now, Arthur would follow Dutch straight into hell without being asked. But he canât abide by how heâs putting their people in harm's way. Heâs felt like a stranger more often than not and heâs been doubting the people he shouldnât. Right now, though, he can see the man he knows in the teasing curl of his lips.Â
âWhatâdya need?â
Dutch pauses in front of a tailor and pats Arthurâs chest. âI need you to look prim and proper for a party weâve got tonight.â
Arthurâs brows furrow cynically and he scoffs. âSomeone invited us to a party?â
Dutch hesitates, a stiff smile on his face. âWell, letâs just say someone is interested in our work.â Arthur wants to question him further, heâs hiding something from him. But Dutch is pushing him towards the door of the shop before he can argue. âAnd get a haircut, we need to look presentable not like a bunch of mountain men.â
Arthur watches as Dutch leaves, something heavy weighing down on him. Dutch doesnât usually tell people about his plans beforehand. At least not every step of them. But this is odd, heâs definitely hiding something and Arthur isnât sure he wants to know what.Â
With a resigned huff, he heads into the tailor. He has to mentally prepare himself for being stuffed into a starched collar and a stiff suit for the rest of the night. He hates these damn parties, hates having to pretend like he knows what the hell is being said.Â
Most of the people that attend are educated or pretend to be. And when he lets it slip that heâs more likely to shoot a gun than read a book they turn on him like jackals. You canât let them see that youâre different than them or youâll never get a word in edgewise.Â
The only part he enjoys is the booze and robbing them of their money. Itâs not like they earned any of it. Most of it was made by breaking the backs of the people they mock for being too poor to afford a fancy suit.Â
Arthur takes a deep breath and looks for the cheapest suit he can find in the overpriced shop.Â
âNow,â Mr. Craneâs hand tightens around your bicep and he jerks you closer to him. You keep your face impassive, not letting him see just how much heâs hurting you. But you can feel your skin being stretched to its limits by his clammy fingers. âYouâre going to behave tonight. Iâve got a few gentlemen Iâd like you to meet.â
He looks at you expectantly but you keep your mouth firmly shut. His eyes narrow and he jerks you around roughly. âUnderstood,â you force the word out through gritted teeth. Youâre trying to breathe as little as possible, not wanting to smell his cigar-laced breath any longer.Â
Finally, after a tortuously long moment, he releases you. You take ten steps back, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles from the silk skirt heâd forced you in. You glance out the window of his office, watching as the workers scramble to set up the tables for tonight. You can hear cooks in the kitchen, shouting out orders for the food for tonight.Â
Everything must be perfect. Mr. Crane never fails to deliver on his extravagantly indulgent parties. The man himself is the very embodiment of greed. You glance over with a disgusted sneer as he sinks himself into his leather chair and pulls out a wad of cash.Â
He catches your eye and sends you a sickly sweet smile. âThis,â he waves the money at you and you track the movement boredly. âIs how much youâre worth, sweetheart.â Your brows raise in amusement and you scoff. More than you thought he would put up for you.Â
You wonder who heâs going to have transport you. Heâll need you out of the city soon, your father is starting to catch onto whatâs happening. It took him long enough. Youâve been missing a month, youâd think he would have put two and two together faster. Then again, heâd never been very interested in you beyond what you were worth to others.Â
âWhen will I be able to meet these gentlemen?â You ask, taking a step towards him. Your eyes dart towards the letter opener on his desk and for a brief moment you picture yourself strabbing it into his fattened jugular.Â
But he flicks his wrist and like magic the door opens, his men coming inside and standing resolutely by your side. âNot anytime soon, my dear.â He looks to the men surrounding you and you take in a sharp breath, wishing youâd just taken the chance when you had it. âMy associate is feeling quite tired, take her back to her room, please.â
They grab you by the elbows, even though it's entirely unnecessary. You wouldnât run, and even if you did you wouldnât get far with the chains he has hidden under your dress. A punishment for the first time you snuck from his home. Youâve been well behaved since then but he doesnât trust you.Â
Youâre whisked away without another word. The trek of the stairs is a slow one. Theyâre forced to help you navigate by lifting your skirts and not tripping on the chains. It no longer brings you any satisfaction to cause a hindrance in any of their days.Â
Before, you would think of being an annoyance as a small victory. But itâs not, it never was. It was just a way for them to keep you complacent by allowing you to think youâd done something for yourself. You believe your father used to do the same thing.Â
Itâs just another way of keeping you quiet.Â
When you make it to your rooms, they shove you inside. Like clockwork, you hear the jingle of the keys and then the lock clicks. You sigh and take a step towards your vanity, working on touching up your hair.Â
You think the worst part of this must be how well youâre treated. You have meals made by a private chef. Your quarters are decorated more lavishly than they ever were at your fatherâs house. Yet, you hear the suffocating tick of the clock as it counts down your doom.Â
Youâre not entirely sure what their plan is with you. You know your father had made a promise to Mr. Crane involving some land. Or perhaps it had been a wager. But as always, you were collateral when your father refused to pay up.Â
You know Mr. Crane wants you out of town so that he has more time to negotiate with your father, to call in the interest he owes him. You also know the only reason your father is interested in finding you is because youâre meant to marry the son of a business partner in two months. The money heâll get from that will be enough to finally pay off his debts.Â
Except, now, Mr. Crane tells you that should your father refuse to pay youâll be married to one of his associates. And the deal heâll make from that will be enough to cover what your father has refused to pay.Â
No matter what, youâre going to be married off to some man youâve never met and yet again be a quiet trophy on a shelf. Itâs a very convoluted situation, one which makes you think leaping from a window might be a better fate.Â
None of the men your father or Mr. Crane is in business with are particularly kind. Theyâve got more skeletons in the closet than there are in the graveyard. You doubt youâll live a very happy life with whoever they pick for you.Â
You slump forward onto the vanity, trying to fight off the burning feeling in the back of your eyes. Youâve known this would happen for years. Even before Mr. Crane had you kidnapped, you knew that this would be your destiny. You would never get to be one of the free-spirited women who fought for the right to choose. You would always be forced into this role.Â
Yet, being so close to it coming to fruition makes you feel choked and suffocated. You can feel the noose around your neck tightening, the hangmanâs fingers twitching as he waits to see you drop.Â
You dig your nails into your palm, taking in a deep breath and fighting back the wave of despair. Where there is doom, you also see a sliver of hope. Your next journey will be a long one. Heâs hiring someone to have you transported to an area further up the map.Â
If you play your cards right you might be able to escape while youâre traveling. If youâre incredibly smart about this, thinking with your head and not your heart, you might have a shot at freedom.Â
You take in a deep breath, reapplying your makeup and resolving yourself to another night of mindless entertainment. But you hold onto that fleeting feeling of hope. You have a shot, you just have to take it.Â
Arthurâs heard of these parties before. Some Mr. Crane fella that likes to blow all his money on food and booze. He indulges his guests and when theyâre weakest, gets their secrets from them. Heâs a snake and everyone knows it. Yet, missing his party is social suicide. They have no choice but to go and indulge in him.Â
Arthur had never had any interest in meeting him or doing any business with him. But Dutch had informed him thatâs exactly whatâs happening tonight. Theyâll mingle for a little while, maybe scout some other jobs, and then Mr. Crane will invite them up to his office for a private discussion.Â
Dutch still hasnât told him what exactly their business with him is. He brought Hosea along tonight so he has to assume itâs not going to be anything violent. But he canât think of anything else they could be good for.Â
âAlright, gentlemen,â Dutch places his hands on Hoseaâs and Arthurâs shoulders, a scheming smile on his face. âTry not to embarrass me.â He slips behind them, heading up the stairs of the home. Hosea and Arthur share a brief look before they split up, blending into the background of the garden.Â
Arthur lurks near the bar, he knows he should be talking to these assholes, possibly learning something useful. But he canât be bothered. He orders a whiskey, gaze surveying the partygoers. Theyâre all loud with painted faces and fake smiles. Not a goddamn person here seems to be genuinely interested in anything theyâre doing.Â
âFirst time?â The soft voice beside him catches him off guard. He glances to the side and is surprised to see that youâve slipped past him. He hadnât even noticed you slide up next to him. You laugh at the look on his face and itâs the first thing here that seems real. âSorry, itâs just that look on your face, I recognize the disappointment. Youâve never been to one of Craneâs parties before?â
âNo,â he clears his throat, still recovering from the surprise. âUh, I canât say I have.â
You suck on your teeth, narrowing your eyes at the people passing by. âTheyâre not worth the effort. Everyone who leaves here leaves carrying his debt on their back.â
Arthur chuckles a little, lips twitching up into a small smile. Heâs surprised by your frankness, most people like to hide behind passive-aggressive digs. He appreciates the straightforward attitude. âThen why are you here?â
You shrug and Arthur finds himself enchanted. He shouldnât be, heâs never been one for romance. He finds women pretty and heâs been in love before, but heâs never bought into the idea of love at first sight. Or any of that mushy stuff that Mary Beth devours in those books of hers.Â
But you are absolutely gorgeous, dressed in a silk dress thatâs so expensive heâs sure he could buy two new horses with it. Your fingers and neck are decorated in dainty jewels that you fidget with as you stare down at your drink. When you set your eyes on him again he thinks he might have been struck by Cupidâs arrow.Â
âI donât have a choice,â you finally answer, sending him a stiff smile. âWhat about you? Why are you here?â
Arthur suddenly remembers himself, remembers why heâs here and what heâs supposed to be doing. The fog in his head dissipates and heâs disappointed in himself. Pretty women have never done anything except get him in trouble.Â
âBusiness,â he answers vaguely. Your eyes narrow and your brows twitch in discontent. Something like realization dawns on your face and you back away from him. The easy attitude youâd carried yourself with is gone, replaced by a vague look of distrust.Â
âRight, shouldâve known.â You let out a rough sigh and Arthur canât help but feel like heâs said the wrong thing. âI suppose Iâll be seeing you again soon.â You slip past him before he can ask you what you mean. He hears the faint sound of metal clinking as you walk back up the stairs.Â
Something silver flashes under your skirts but he canât get a good glimpse of it. He feels unsettled as he turns back to the bar. The whole interaction was odd. From how stricken he was with you to how cold you turned.Â
He doesnât know what you saw in him but it was probably for the best that you left when you did. Neither of you needed the trouble the other would bring. He shakes his head, downing his whiskey and muttering nonsense to himself about not thinking with the wrong head.Â
Itâs not that much later that Dutch is appearing on the balcony and silently motions him forward. Arthur leaves the bar behind and slips up the same stairs youâd disappeared on. Dutch says nothing as he leads Hosea and Arthur through the house.Â
The mansion is a maze more than anything. Arthur loses track of all the turns they take and the winding staircases they descend. Finally, Dutch stops them all in front of two large oak doors. He raps once on the door and then lets himself in.Â
A large, balding man with a shiny head is perched on top of a leather chair. He looms behind his desk, fingers steepled as he greets them all with a false smile. âAh, gentlemen, so nice to finally meet you.â
Dutch grins and motions to Arthur, âThis is the man who will be doing the transporting, Arthur.â Arthurâs eyes narrow in confusion but he says nothing as Dutch moves to Hosea, âAnd this is my associate, Hosea. Heâs a lot better with money than I am, Mr. Crane. You understand.â
Mr. Crane lets out a boisterous laugh that makes Arthurâs ears hurt and nods his head, his cheeks jiggling with the movement. âThat I do! Well,â he waves them forward when they linger in the doorway too long, âcome in, come in.â
Arthur closes the doors behind them as Mr. Crane lifts himself from his desk. There are two couches positioned in front of an unlit fire. He takes one of them and Dutch and Hosea take the other. Arthur perches himself on the armrest of their couch, eyes surveying the office like it might reveal the truth of their visit.Â
âI trust Mr. Van der Linde has kept this all quiet?âÂ
âHe has,â Arthur grouses.Â
At the same time, Dutch says, âOf course, Mr. Crane. I promised confidentiality and Dutch Van der Linde is nothing if not a man who keeps to his promises.â Crane nods, looking satisfied and Arthur holds back a laugh at how easily he seems to trust Dutch.
âGood, good.â He dips his hand inside his jacket and Arthurâs palm instinctively drops to where his gun should be. Of course, theyâd had to give up their weapons before they came into the party, if he does has a gun Arthur canât do a damn thing.Â
But he doesnât, instead, he pulls out the thickest stack of cash that Arthur has ever laid his eyes on. A loud thud resounds through the room as he slams the bills on top of the table between them. Arthurâs eyes widen and Hoseaâs jaw nearly drops at the sight of it all.Â
This would be enough to get them out of St. Denis tonight. Shock sours quickly into suspicion. What the hell has Dutch signed up for? âNow, this is the first half. This is simply for accepting the job and,â he gives them all severe looks, âfor your silence.â
Arthur shifts uncomfortably on his perch and waits for Mr. Crane to finish. âThe other half will be given once the package has been safely delivered.â Thereâs a certain lilt to his words when he says package that has Arthurâs hackles raising. Whatever is getting delivered is not going to be good.Â
Crane turns towards the bookshelves on the wall and calls out, âDarling, wonât you join us?â Arthur figures the man must have lost his mind, they should just take the money and leave. But thereâs a loud creak and something like metal gears grinding together. One of the shelves pops open and the panel swings forward.Â
You pop your head out, glancing towards Crane and then taking a step forward. Arthur, without even thinking about it, finds himself sitting up, and brushing some of the dirt off his pants from the ride over.Â
At first, heâs so confused by seeing you again that he doesnât realize why exactly heâs seeing you again. Then you glance towards him, a knowing look on your face and it clicks. Youâre the package. Youâre what heâs meant to be transporting.Â
He glares over at Dutch, when exactly did they get into the business of trading women?
Hosea voices his doubts in a much calmer manner. âIf I may, sir, why does she need to be delivered so discreetly?â
Mr. Crane laughs and your face twitches unpleasantly. You grimace, glaring at the back of the manâs head with something like murder in your eyes. He doesnât know what heâs done to cause such a visceral look of hate and he doesnât want to think about it. This whole situation is bothering him. Youâre not here willingly, which means youâre not going to be transported willingly either.Â
None of this makes sense. Dutch would never have taken a job like this before, even when they needed the money. And thereâs no way in hell a rich man like this one would want to pay a couple of grungy outlaws so much money. Thereâs got to be some sort of trick in all of this.Â
Cran clears his throat, âSheâs a daughter of a, well,â he frowns and struggles for the words. âLetâs just say weâre in a hostile competition for a lot of land. This land, boys, could be very beneficial in expanding my business. Heâs not interested in selling and, well, desperate times, desperate measures.â
You scoff, laughing slightly at him and rounding the couch. Dutch ignores you, Hosea looks uncomfortable, and Crane continues prattling on without missing a beat. âShould her father not pay me, she will be married to the associate youâre bringing her to. Heâs promised me enough land and money to cover what I lost to her father. And if he does pay, sheâll be returned in time for her wedding here.â
Arthurâs eyes dart towards you and you send him a bitter smile. It makes him shift where he sits, hating the way your eyes bore into him. âI just need someone who's not afraid of getting their hands a little dirty to make sure she behaves while sheâs delivered to my friend,â Crane glances over at Arthur. He asses him, the bulge of his arms in the suit and the scars on his face, whatever he finds must be satisfactory because he smiles over at Dutch.Â
Arthur stands, ready for Dutch to tell Mr. Crane that theyâre not in the business of selling women off. But Dutch doesnât, he smiles at Mr. Crane and reaches for the money, passing it off to Hosea to count. âWell, I do believe my friend Arthur is just the man for the job.âÂ
âI think youâre right, Dutch.â He stands up now, pot belly nearly bursting the buttons of his shirt, and reaches for Dutchâs hand. âPleasure doing business with you.â
Dutch smiles and takes his sweaty palm, âYou as well, sir.â Dutch walks towards you and holds his arm out. âThis way, my dear.â You glance between him and his elbow before rolling your eyes and reluctantly placing your hand on his arm. You follow him silently and obediently, no fight is left in you. Hosea follows after you both, a concerned look on his face.Â
Arthur remains in the office, standing dumbfounded and staring at the doorway youâd disappeared through. Heâs struggling to process what just happened. Arthur has helped people get home safely before and provided protection. But heâs never been one to traffic a hostage.Â
Crane glances up, finally noticing him still standing there. He walks past him, patting his shoulder as he does and giving him an approving smile. âDonât be afraid to take care of her should she get out of hand.â Heâs nearly out the door but he looks back and adds, âJust donât bruise her too much.â
Arthurâs fingers twitch for his revolver once more and heâs never wanted to shoot a man more. But he knows Dutch is waiting for him and heâd never make it out of here alive if he started a fight right now. Reluctantly, he makes his way out of the manor and towards where youâre all waiting for him.Â
Heâs fuming by the time he stops in front of Dutch. Heâs trying to help you onto his horse and Arthur finally realizes what the metal sound he heard earlier is. There are chains around your ankles and you canât maneuver yourself on the saddle.Â
His eyes narrow and he glares at Dutch, âWhat the hell are you doing? Weâre selling women now?â
Dutch glowers at the tone of Arthurâs voice. You watch them both passively, fiddling with the rings on your fingers and looking unbothered by the entire situation. âWatch yourself, Arthur,â thereâs a clear warning in his tone but Arthurâs too upset to care.Â
Theyâve done a lot of bad things. They werenât good men. But this was just going too far. âWe need this, Arthur. You want to get out of here, you want to keep our people safe?â Arthur let out a deep exhale, gritting his teeth together and nodding reluctantly. Dutch huffs, âThatâs what I thought. Weâre not selling anyone, Arthur. Itâs a simple delivery.â
His jaw clenches as he watches Dutch struggle to help you again. âItâs not going to work,â you inform Dutch. You lift your skirts, flashing him the chains he hadnât seemed to notice yet. Neither of you gets a chance to say anything as Arthur pulls out his gun and shoots the lock off.Â
He feels a little guilty at how startled you look. Your eyes widen until they look like they might bulge out. Your hands fly up to cover your ears as the sound rocks through you. It breaks violently through the silence of the night.Â
Dutch turns and gives him a stern look, âHave you forgotten the meaning of subtlety?â Arthur can tell heâs trying not to shout and drag any more attention towards you all.Â
Arthur glares at Dutch, something wicked brewing in his stomach. âThe lady wouldnât be able to ride a horse like that.â He mounts his horse and rides off without a look back. He canât stand to be near you or Dutch any longer.Â
The reality of what theyâve turned into hits him like a bag of rocks and it makes him irate. Theyâve never been these people. Never traded a person off like they were an object. Heâs sure plenty of people in camp would have a problem with this. But he doubts Dutch will let them know the truth until the job is done.Â
And by then, everyone will be too happy with the money to complain. Dutch is nothing if not good at saving his ass. Heâs hitching his horse as the rest of you ride into camp. He lingers by Diablo, resting a hand on the thick neck of the shire while Dutch helps you off the saddle.Â
His eyes narrow in on the way Dutchâs fingers glide along your waist as you jump down. You take a step back the second your legs are steady sending Dutch a dirty look that almost makes Arthur laugh.Â
He starts towards Dutch, ready to try and reason with him again. But he holds his hand up and walks away, not even giving him a chance to speak. Arthur lets out a rough sigh as Hosea comes up behind him.Â
He pats his shoulder comfortingly, âYou should get some sleep, Arthur. Youâll ride with her to Strawberry tomorrow morning.â He almost walks off but he whispers a quiet, âIâm sorry,â before he goes.Â
Arthur glances towards you but youâre looking around the camp, eyes lingering on Javier as he sings by the fire. He swears he almost sees you smile but it's gone as quickly as it came. He takes his hat off, running his hand through his hair and letting out a tired sigh.Â
âAlright, come with me,â he starts towards the house. It takes a minute to realize youâre not directly behind him. When he looks over your shoulder he sees you with your skirts lifted, tiptoeing through the mud and trying not to get your pretty skirts dirty.Â
He rolls his eyes, storming back towards you. Your eyes widen at the look on his face and you stumble back a few steps. Undeterred, he bends over, throwing you over his shoulder and walking towards the house.Â
Your hands claw at his back, desperately grasping onto his shirt so you keep your balance. He storms up the stairs, ignoring the alarmed looks he gets from others in camp. He can already hear them whispering, wondering who you are and why heâs dragging you into his room.Â
They can make up whatever the hell they want. Arthurâs too pissed off to give a shit about rumors tonight. He drops you unceremoniously onto his bed and storms back out. He heads downstairs, rooting around in one of the chests for some extra clothes.Â
You wonât be able to ride to Strawberry in those ridiculous clothes. Youâll need some pants if youâre going to sit on the horse properly. He tucks the outfit under his arm and makes his way back to you.Â
When he opens the door your hand immediately darts away from his shaving kit and shoves itself under your butt. His brows furrow as he catches a flash of silver in your hand. He places the clothes down on the end of the bed, eyes drifting towards his shaving kit. Sure enough, his razor seems to be missing.Â
He lets out a sigh and you tense up, hand clenching around your prize. He briefly debates taking it from you. But he figures you should be allowed a modicum of comfort. Even if you did try and use it against him itâs dull, he hasnât sharpened it in a while and you wouldnât be able to do much damage anyway.Â
He lets you keep it, leaving you on your own without another word. He can hear the exhale of relief you let out when he walks away and it makes him feel just a little better about this. At least youâre not completely terrified.Â
You change into the clothes Arthur gave you. Theyâre a little big, but you appreciate the pants. Itâs much better than the ridiculous dresses Crane had you in. You collect your dress and toss it out the window of Arthurâs room, watching it sink into the mud pit below. It brings you some satisfaction to see Craneâs pretty silk getting ruined.Â
You take off the jewelry youâd been given and stuff it into your boots. If you did manage to escape while you were traveling with Arthur then you were going to need some cash. You could sell off the jewels and hopefully, it would be enough to keep you comfortable.Â
It feels nice, to wear real clothes. Not being dressed up like a doll for once. You envy some of the women here, who can wear what they want. There is an appeal to the outlaw life. As long as youâre on the right side of it, which, currently, youâre not.Â
You slip out of the house before anyone has a chance to retrieve you. The whole night you were curled up around a dull razor with your eyes wide open. Spending a night surrounded by outlaws isnât exactly restful.Â
You figure you might as well try and walk around before youâre on the back of a horse for the rest of the day. There are more people up than youâd expected. Luckily, you donât see Dutch around anywhere. You donât feel like having to deal with any more of his false charm or empty apologies.Â
The same man youâd seen strumming his guitar the night before is asleep next to the dying fire. A blonde woman catches your eye, sheâs walking past some other women in dresses. Theyâre still asleep but she looks like sheâs been up for hours.Â
Thereâs a bit of blood on her pants and you briefly wonder what sheâd been doing. âWho are you?â She asks, surveying you from head to toe with suspicion in her eyes.Â
âA package,â you tell her bluntly, walking past her towards the only lit fire of camp. She follows you, a wry grin on her face as she watches you pour yourself some coffee.Â
âYouâve got a real attitude, I like it.âÂ
You huff out a laugh, taking a sip of the burnt coffee and giving her a brief smile. âIâm sure my future husband wonât.âÂ
She rolls her eyes and scoffs, waving you off. âHusbands, good for nothing. I loved mine but he was useless as a sack oâ flour. Youâre better off without them.â
Your smile turns strained and you look down at your feet, at the boots that arenât your own. Youâll never get to dress like this again. Or speak like this to a woman who isnât afraid to voice what's on her mind.Â
âYes, well,â you shrug and meet her eyes again, âI donât seem to have much of a choice.â
Her eyes narrow and she frowns, âWhatâs that supposed to-â
âMrs. Adler!â Dutchâs voice booms from across the camp and forces the others awake. Most of them grumble, but theyâre quick to get started on morning chores. âI see youâve met our guest,â he says your name with a flourish that almost makes you laugh.Â
Heâs a good actor. Heâs especially good at covering up his mistakes. âYeah, whatâs going on, Dutch? Who is she? Why donât you guys ever let me in on this stuff?â She fires off questions rapidly, you almost donât catch them all. There are clearly underlying issues here other than your unexpected presence.Â
âIn due time,â he assures her, laying the charm on thick. But even you can tell heâs full of it. Heâs not planning on letting her in on anything unless it benefits him. âAnd this is our guest, her fiancee has paid us handsomely to provide her safe passage back to him.âÂ
He walks towards you, laying a hand over your arm and squeezing slightly. You give Sadie a stiff smile and let him lead you away. âI do believe itâs best that you just wait for Arthur, dear.â He gives you a look that lets you know itâs an order, not a suggestion.Â
Still, you play along, âI think you might be right, Mr. Van der Linde, thank you for the hospitality.â You run a tired hand over your face, sitting down on the stoop of the house and finishing off the rest of your coffee. Dutch watches you for a while, never straying too far from where you are and intercepting anyone who asks about you.Â
He spins quite the romantic tale of your lost love and how he desperately wants you back. You wish it were true, that you were living out some wonderful fairytale and were about to be reunited with the love of your life. Instead, it feels like one long walk to the gallows.Â
The wood creaks behind you and you donât need to turn to see who it is. âReady?â Arthur asks and you figure he means, ready to leave freedom and happiness and the will to live behind?Â
No, âSure,â you toss the rest of the coffee into the grass and leave the mug on the stairs. You get to your feet and let him lead you towards the horses. He shares a brief look with Dutch as you pass by him but it doesnât look entirely pleasant.Â
He makes his way toward a towering black shire and your eyes widen in horror. âWhatâs this?â
He works on saddling the horse up, not paying much attention to you. âThis is Diablo.â You take a step closer and the horse starts huffing, swinging his neck towards you with his lips pulled back. You jump back a step back, eyeing him warily.Â
Arthur glances over and lets out a low chuckle, âHe wonât bite. Heâs just curious.â
âMhm,â you give him a disbelieving look. âYouâll have to excuse me for being wary, Iâve not met a lot of horses.â
Arthur looks a bit shocked by your admission. âReally?â He questions, sounding doubtful.Â
You give him a brief smile and nod. âHard to believe, I know, but Iâve lived a very sheltered life, Mr. Morgan. Havenât had many opportunities for exploring on my own.âÂ
He opens his mouth, looking like he wants to say something. At the last second, he stops himself, instead taking a step closer to you. You flinch away from him when he reaches for you and he lets out a sigh. âYou canât spend the next three days terrified of him, come on.â
He coaxes you forward and you reluctantly step closer to the beast. He chuckles at the scared look on your face. You donât appreciate how much amusement heâs gaining from this. âCome on,â he mutters, taking your wrist and leading you closer to Diablo.Â
The damn thing is named Devil, how could you not be terrified of it?Â
âHe wonât bite, I promise.â You donât trust him but he doesnât give you much of a choice. He presses your open palm to Diabloâs nose and you wince, bracing for him to lash out at you.Â
But he doesnât, he lets out a soft knicker and it seems like he doesnât even care that youâre there. You let out a relieved laugh, running your hand tentatively over his muzzle. Itâs shockingly soft and oddly squishy.Â
He doesnât seem to mind as you awe over him. You smile and glance over at Arthur but it drops when you see the odd look on his face. He seems perplexed by your reaction and you canât fathom why. âYou really never have ridden a horse before, have you?â
You shake your head, âNo. I told you.â
He purses his lips and nods. You donât know what it is about this thatâs bothering him and you donât care to ask. If he doesnât believe just how strict your upbringing has been then fine. âAlright, come on, we need to get a move on.âÂ
He leads you around to the saddle and helps you up on the back of the horse. Itâs beyond odd, sitting on something in pants. Getting to spread your legs freely is something you are going to greatly enjoy during this journey.Â
Arthur takes off without much warning and you yelp, throwing your arms around his waist to steady yourself. He glances over his shoulder at you but says nothing. You turn your head, watching as the camp gets smaller and smaller.Â
The people mill about, greet each other, and break bread together. It hits you suddenly, this will be the last time you get to see people being free. If you donât get out, if you canât escape, your life will be filled with starched collars and powdered faces. Youâll never have a genuine conversation with someone again. Youâll be turned into pretty jewelry hanging off the arm of a man you never met.Â
The ride to Strawberry is three days at least. You have three days to get your plan together and to escape. You almost feel sorry for Arthur and the repercussions heâll have to face losing you. But not sorry enough that youâre not gonna try.Â
Arthurâs speed evens out and you let your arms relax, easing away from him slightly. Your wrist jolts against the gun on his hip and you eye it curiously. If you had a gun there would be no doubt you could escape. You see Arthurâs fingers twitch on the reigns of the horse and you move your arms higher up his torso.Â
You doubt youâll be a quicker draw than he is. He is an outlaw after all. You donât think heâd have many qualms about delivering you to your fiancee with a few extra holes in your gut. Your mind drifts to the razor in your pocket and you consider it for a moment.Â
Youâre sure youâd be quick enough to just whip it out and slit his throat. You sigh and dismiss the thought. You were a lot of things but you were not a murderer. There are lines you canât bring yourself to cross. Besides, as wicked as what heâs doing to you is, you know heâs a good man.Â
It was an instinctual feeling. Mr. Crane and your father were both horrible, evil men. They knew nothing but greed and would never be satisfied by all the riches they reaped. They were the type of men you looked at and knew deep down that there was nothing left to save.Â
Arthur has undoubtedly bad things. You donât become an outlaw without spilling some blood. He was weathered and rough from a hard life, but that didnât mean there was nothing good left in him. You wonât have his blood on your hands, no matter how much you might want to get away from him.Â
As grateful as Arthur is for the silence, it is odd. Heâs helped a few ladies find their way back home before and for some reason, they seem to think heâs the best listener in the world. It seems everyone who rides with him wants to tell him their life stories.Â
Youâre completely silent, though. He has to keep looking back just to make sure you havenât fallen off the back of the horse. Youâre pretty complacent, following along with whatever Dutch said and coming along quietly. You seem beaten down, the fight dragged out of you.Â
He wonders what Mr. Crane had done to you. A few times, heâs seen just a glimpse of the spark that used to be there. But it was snuffed out before he got a chance to know it. He almost wishes you would talk. It would distract him from what he was doing right now.
It didnât feel right, bringing you along to marry a man youâve never even met. He has to keep reminding himself that it would have happened no matter what. Ladies like you are always sold off into a profitable marriage. The only thing heâs doing is switching up who the fiancee might be.Â
None of that makes him feel better, though. He should be helping you, not dragging you away to your worst nightmare. But, his people come first. The amount of money Dutchâll get from this will be enough to get them all out of here. This could finally be the last score.Â
You gasp behind him and he whips his head around, immediately expecting someone to be following along beside you both. Maybe your fatherâs men or just some raiders. But he doesnât see anything except a herd of deer running through the trees.Â
His brows furrow in confusion and he glances back at you. Youâre watching them like theyâre something spectacular. Arthurâs always been a fan of the quiet beauty of nature. He appreciates them in ways most folks donât understand. But youâre looking at âem like you just found God.Â
âNever seen deer before?â He teases, chuckling a little at your reaction.Â
You startle, not realizing he had been watching. You clear your throat and look away from them sheepishly. He almost feels bad for ruining the moment for you. âNo. No, I havenât.âÂ
He knows it's possible, but itâs astounding to him that someone truly lived their whole life in the city. It just doesnât seem right. Cities are full of shit, smog, and bad people. Not even having a moment out of that your whole life seems like torture.Â
âIâll just enjoy it while it lasts,â you mutter, eyes darting back to the tree line. But the deer are gone and you donât look very interested anymore.Â
âRight,â he shifts forward, the air between you awkward. Heâd only meant it in jest. He didnât mean to remind you of what was about to happen to you. He doesnât like the silence, not this time, it feels wrong. It makes him stew in his shame and thatâs a nasty feeling.Â
Selfishly, he prods you for more. âA few days on the road, youâll be eager for the city again.â
You laugh but thereâs no humor to it. âI very much doubt that Mr. Morgan.â
âArthur,â he corrects, âjust call me Arthur.â
âRight,â your tone remains cold, âwell if you donât mind Arthur, Iâd like to ride there in silence.â
He's got no other choice but to comply. If you donât want to talk he wonât make you. He just wishes he could make this a little easier for you both.Â
Camping is something. You donât have a word for it. Itâs nice to be out in nature and embrace it for the first time in your life. But you really would not mind the comfort of your bed right now.Â
Rocks digging into your spine and head do not make for a good nightâs sleep. Youâve been lying in front of the fire for hours, flipping around uselessly. It doesnât matter how much you shift, the rock stays digging painfully into you.Â
You let out a loud huff, flopping onto your back and glaring up at the starry sky in defeat. At least the view is nice. In the city, you canât see the stars. The smokeâs too thick and you never get a good look at them.
Out here, they almost feel fake. Theyâre so bright and beautiful, you thought the paintings in the museum had always been exaggerating just how breathtaking a night sky can be. But you were wrong. And you hate that thereâs a potential future where youâll never get to see this again.Â
âWould you quit squirming so damn much?â
You shoot up, resting on your elbows and glaring over at Arthur. Heâs got his hat over his eyes, arms crossed, and looking like heâs been asleep for the past few hours. You hadnât realized youâd been keeping him up.Â
âSome of us arenât used to sleeping outside,â you hiss, throwing yourself back down to the ground. He doesnât say anything for a while and you figure thatâs the end of it. You clench your eyes shut, counting sheep in your mind and trying to force yourself asleep.Â
You hear boots crunching across leaves and your eyes fly open. Arthurâs standing over you, hands propped on his hips as he glares down at you. âCan I help you?â You snap when you get tired of the staring.Â
He scoffs and shakes his head, kneeling to be eye level with you. Youâre startled by the proximity, an odd heat creeping up your neck. âCome on, Iâm gonna tire you out. Maybe then youâll get some sleep.â
You gasp, astonished at the audacity of his suggestion. âExcuse me?â You demand, tone incredulous.Â
His brows furrow before he shakes his head and rolls his eyes. âNot like that,â he grouses. âGet up,â he doesnât give you much of a choice. He places his hand under your back, shoving you onto your feet. You stand with a slight stumble, glaring at him as you brush dirt off your shirt and pants.Â
You canât help the snotty tone of your voice as you ask, âWhat are we doing?âÂ
âHuntin,ââ He answers gruffly, going over to the horse and taking the bow out of his saddle.Â
Your brows furrow as you recall the few stories your father told you of hunting bison. âArenât you supposed to use a rifle?â
He shakes his head and nods towards the treeline. You glance back at the fire before reluctantly following him into the dark forest. The moon is full enough that it provides just enough light for you not to be terrified of whatâs lurking in the underbrush.Â
âGot a friend,â he tells you, kneeling and glancing at some tracks on the ground. âTaught me how to hunt properly. Bows are quieter, less disruptive, and they provide quicker, cleaner kills.â He looks back at you and motions towards the arrows, âLess pain for the animal.â
Your face slacks with something like astonishment. All youâd heard from your father was the thrill of the hunt, the satisfaction of the kill. He never mentioned keeping anything from the animal, using it for meat, or about how long it took for them to die. Youâd never thought there was anybody who actually cared for the creatureâs comfort as it died.Â
You suppose thereâs going to be a lot about Arthur thatâs different from the men you know.Â
âArthur,â a twig snaps behind you, and your eyes widen. You drop your voice to a whisper, not wanting to draw too much attention towards you both. âI donât want to kill anything,â you hiss.
âHa!â He barks out a laugh and you purse your lips in irritation. He stands and looks at you, chuckling again before shaking his head. âI wouldnât be so confident in your huntinâ skill, kid.â
You click your tongue and glare at him, âDonât call me that,â you snap. Itâs the same patronizing nickname your father loved to use on you and you detest it. He raises his hands in surrender and you roll your eyes at the smirk on his face. âThen whatâs the point of this?â
He shrugs and heads further into the trees, you have no choice but to follow along behind him. âFigure you should be taught a few skills before I get rid of ya.â
You want to argue with him that thereâs no point. If you are given to Craneâs associate, youâll never set foot in the woods again. However, if you do manage to escape him, learning a few survival skills wouldnât be a bad idea.Â
So, you keep your mouth shut and let him lead you through the forest. âHow do you know where to go?â You ask, trying to figure out what it is he keeps looking at in the mud. He waves you forward, moving you so youâre standing directly in front of him.Â
âYou see that?â You have to squint, relying solely on the light from the moon, to make out what heâs pointing at. There are some tracks in the mud that look vaguely like hooves. âItâs buck tracks, you can tell by the size.â He kneels and when you donât follow he tugs you down by the sleeve. âYou canât rely on just the tracks, though. You have to look for other signs of âem.â
You glance around, noticing some crushed twigs and grass a few feet ahead. âLike that?â You point towards it and he huffs in amusement.Â
âCaught on quicker than I thought.â
You feel vaguely offended by that but donât bother voicing it, just glare at his back as he gets up. You walk silently through the forest, letting Arthur show you which tracks to follow and which to avoid. Youâre not comforted by how many cougar prints you find. You stare up into the branches always expecting something to already be looking down at you.Â
Miraculously, no wild cat chooses you for dinner as you track the buck down. You find him near a small stream, antlers dipping into the water as he takes a drink. Heâs got to be one of the most gorgeous creatures youâve ever seen.Â
Youâve lived your whole life in St. Denis. The most youâve seen are overworked carriage horses and mangy dogs. No life slips through the cracks of that place. Thereâs just smoke and misery. This is nature, real beauty. Itâs breathtaking, the way the leaves ripple in the wind and the starlight reflects in the water.Â
You canât imagine seeing this and wanting to tear it down to put up an oily machine that contributes nothing to the earth but death. It just makes you hate your father more. It also makes you more resolved to not be forced back into that life. You canât do it. You canât have this one taste of freedom and then let it go without a fight.Â
Arthur pulls the bow out and nocks an arrow. You glance between him and the buck and rapidly shake your head. âNo,â you hiss, âI donât wanna kill it.â
He rolls his eyes and moves you in front of him. You donât have much choice as he places your hands on the string and guides you into the right position. âRelax,â he murmurs in your ear as you fight against his grip. âYou ainât gonna kill it.âÂ
It doesnât bring you much comfort, but if youâre going to make it on your own, sometimes youâll have to do something you donât like. âNow,â his hand drifts down your bicep and you suck in a sharp breath. âDonât hold it too long, youâll get tired.âÂ
Itâs dawning on you just how close you both are. Youâre kneeling on the ground with him behind you, essentially cradling your body to him. Youâve never been this familiar with a man before, itâs making your brain short-circuit. You can hardly pay attention to what heâs telling you.Â
He lifts your elbow slightly and points you towards the left. âYou need to keep your arm steady even after you let go or your aim will be off. Take in a deep breath and release on the exhale.â You give him an apprehensive look, still not wanting to hurt the buck. He just nods and thereâs something in his gaze that lets you relax slightly.Â
You release the string and the arrow flies over the buckâs head, burying itself into the tree behind it. Its head shoots up and it turns towards you both before dashing off. You let out an astonished laugh, glancing down the bow and then back at Arthur.Â
âMy god, Iâve never shot anything before.â
âCongratulations, youâve killed your first tree,â he remarks dryly, but you see the glint of humor in his eye.Â
He gets to his feet and offers you a hand up. You smile up at him, undeterred by his attitude. âThank you for this,â you tell him earnestly. He gives you an odd look but nods anyway. He doesnât understand just how important this is to you. Knowing how to do something like this is the difference between life and death when youâre on your own. Of course, he doesnât realize youâll be making an escape attempt soon.Â
He retrieves the arrow from the tree and you run your hand over the curve of the bow. You wonder just how much heâd miss this if you took it from him.Â
Arthurâs tearing down the camp and youâre standing by Diablo, feeding him some apples. You stroke absentmindedly over the horse's muzzle, watching Arthur intently. Heâs too busy pulling the tent apart to be paying attention to you.Â
You got better sleep last night than you did at Craneâs. He was right, hunting had tired you out. You were eager enough to sleep that you didnât even feel the rough ground underneath you. He seems to be a little more lax about his watch over you.Â
Something about last night must have eased him into a sense of comfort that youâre not going to run. Thatâs his own fault, though. You glance over the curve of the hill, noticing a carriage that will be passing by soon enough.Â
You look back at Arthur and ease slightly away from Diablo. Arthur is still collecting the blankets and rolling them up. He turns towards the dying fire and tosses the rest of the coffee out. You take another step back and he keeps his back to you.Â
Slowly, you release Diabloâs reigns, giving him one last apple before you turn on your heel and run down the hill. Your foot slips out from under you and you let out a loud yelp as you go flying headfirst down the grass.Â
You land on your back with enough impact to make the breath rush out of you. But your descent is still going and youâre flipping over headfirst into the road. You slide forward, the dirt scraping up your chin as you cough and try and catch your breath.Â
âLook out!â You roll out of the way just before the carriage rolls over you. Someone shouts your name from the top of the hill and you see Arthur glaring down at you. He starts towards you and you scramble to your feet.Â
âStop!â You scream, waving your arms wildly and chasing after the carriage. The man gives you a bewildered look as you throw yourself at him. âPlease, sir, Iâve been kidnapped, you must help me get back to my husband.â
The man looks behind you, sees a very angry Arthur bellowing out your name, and moves to the side. âHurry up,â he urges, giving you a hand on the bench beside him. You let out a relieved breath, taking his hand and throwing yourself the rest of the way up.Â
He whips the horses, hurrying them along all the while Arthur is yelling after you. Itâs not hard to believe that he would kidnap you. He looks half-crazed as he follows along behind you. You turn over your shoulder, giving him a brief wave and a smile. âThanks for the help,â you tell the man beside you. You offer your hand and name.Â
He glances down at it but doesnât take it, instead looking forward and ignoring you entirely. Something uneasy settles in your stomach but you push it aside. You blame the feeling on the adrenaline still pumping through you.Â
âWhere are you headed?â You ask, glancing into the back of the carriage. You notice some moonshine and a crate full of guns but decide not to question it.Â
âSaid yer husbandâs waitinâ for ya?â He demands, completely ignoring your question. You stare at the side of his face but his expression isnât giving anything away. He comes to an intersection. You see a sign pointing towards a town and figure heâs going to take it, but instead, he pulls onto a smaller trail leading to the woods.Â
âUm,â you clear your throat uncertainly, glancing back at the sign. âYes,â your voice cracks and you know you sound like youâre full of shit.Â
He laughs and the sound sends chills down your spine. You rip your eyes off of him, looking down at the horses and suddenly realizing just what youâd gotten yourself into. âYou sure about that, little lady?â
Something cold digs into your side and you gasp quietly, looking down to see a gun pressed against your ribs. âYou scream, run, or do anythinâ to piss me off and Iâll put a fourth hole in ya.â When you donât say anything he digs it harder into you. âUnderstand?â He growls and you can do nothing but nod your head.Â
You want to move, want to shove him off the side of the carriage and make a run for it. But you canât, youâre frozen solid. Youâre so petrified with fear you canât even blink. You think youâre holding your breath, as if taking in air is going to set the gun off.Â
He grins, a blackened curl of lips over rotted teeth, at your obedience and comes to a stop in the trees. âWhat are you doing?â You whisper, staring at the secluded area with a newfound sense of horror.Â
âShut up,â he snaps, his voice echoing through the quiet of the woods. You hear no birds or animals and you feel so alone it makes you want to cry. He gets off the carriage and turns towards you. âDown,â he demands. Your eyes dart towards the reigns of the horses and he pulls the hammer of the gun back. âDonât even think about it.â
You lift your hands in the air, slowly slipping down the seat. He doesnât appreciate you taking your time He grabs the front of your shirt, jerking you further into the trees and tossing you to the ground.Â
You let out a rough groan at the impact, blood staining your shirt as your elbow slips across a jagged rock. Itâs like something is snapped loose in your mind. He comes stomping towards you, kneeling between your spread legs and it finally clicks.Â
You lunge forward with a shout and he rears back in surprise. You wonder how often someoneâs actually fought against him or just let it happen. You donât want to die, you donât want to get shot by this scum, but there are a lot of things worse than dying.Â
You grab the arm holding the gun, jerking it around, and knocking it out of his hand. âYou bitch!â He hisses, bringing his open palm down across your cheek. The smack rings through the trees and ricochets through the air. Your head whips to the side so hard you think you might have snapped your neck.Â
Blood dribbles out from your lips, your teeth having bitten into the fat of your cheeks. You spot the gun nearby, the silver of the barrel glinting from under the leaves. Just as you reach for it, heâs wrapping his hands around your ankles and dragging you back towards him.Â
You feel like screaming as your hands desperately grasp at the dirt underneath you. But thereâs not enough air to scream. You dig your nails into the mud, feel them split against the rocks, and kick at his chest hard enough to make him lose his breath.Â
His grip on you loosens and you throw yourself at the pile of leaves. Hands groping for something solid. Just as he flips you over you wrap your hand around the handle of the gun. You pull the trigger and the bang is deafening.Â
Your ears ring and your hands are trembling from the recoil. His jaw goes slack and he tumbles on top of you. You let out a grunt, breath pushed out of you by his weight. You scramble against his chest, something warm making your hands slip as you struggle to roll him off of you.Â
You glance over, waiting for him to spring back up. But thereâs something dark pooling around him and sinking into the dirt below. Thereâs a hole in his chest and his eyes are already flattening. You fall back against the earth, staring up at the trees above you.Â
The sounds rush back to you all at once. The birds singing, deers prancing somewhere in the distance. You hear a stream rushing nearby and let out a stunned laugh. Thereâs a smile on your face but thereâs nothing to be happy about.Â
You think you might be in shock. Mind still trying to catch up to what just happened. You glance down at the gun in your hand and toss it to the side, not wanting it near you anymore. Only a second later do you reach for it again.Â
You struggle onto your hands and knees, checking over yourself for any injuries that you might be numb to right now. The only blood on you is from the dead man on the ground. You keel over, hands on your knees, and suck in a deep gasping breath.Â
You stumble back, limping towards the carriage. You dig around in the back of the wagon, tugging out a giant hunting knife and walking towards the horses. You cut them loose, keeping the rope on one of them and tugging yourself onto her back. You tuck the knife in your belt and nudge her side, leading her forward gently.Â
You don't even have time to process the fact that youâre riding a horse on your own. Your body is moving on autopilot. You can only think about getting ahead, getting away. What just happened will hit you later. You slump against the neck of the horse, adrenaline leaking out of you and exhaustion catching up.Â
Heâs going to find you and heâs going to kill you. Leaving while he had his back turned. Getting on some carriage with a man youâve never met before. How dumb do you have to be? You canât trust people out here. Not when there are gangs, raiders, hell, heâs encountered a few cannibals.Â
For all he knows, youâre already dead and heâll be delivering a body to the train station. The thought makes him curse and urge Diablo forward. Itâs not hard to follow the tracks of the carriage, what concerns him is when they lead into the forest instead of the town.Â
âGoddammit,â he mutters, âthe hell have you done woman?â He leaps off Diablo, figuring it will be easier to track you on foot. He follows the paths of the wheels, finding the wagon abandoned and the horses cut loose.Â
His brows furrow in confusion as he wanders around the side and spots a lump in the leaves. All he can see is the bottom of a boot and blood splattered across the orange of the fallen leaves.Â
His stomach plummets and he races towards it. But itâs not you buried under the foliage, itâs the man who offered you a ride. âWhat the hell?â He kneels, brushing the leaves off his chest and frowning when he sees the blood splattered all along his chest.Â
He doesnât need to look long to figure out what killed him. Heâs sure the bullet buried in his heart did the job. Arthur curses and stalks away from the man. There are prints where the horses were but there are too many to tell which one you might have taken.Â
Heâll have to rely on instinct to find you. Youâre becoming a real pain in the ass for what was supposed to be a simple job. Still, he canât help but be a little relieved that it was a stranger and not you lying dead on the ground.Â
He turns back onto the road, taking the turn into town. Someone on horseback rides past him, they look disgusted by something up ahead and it makes alarms go off in his head. He urges Diablo forward, running the rest of the way into town.Â
An unsaddled mare lazily eats some grass as the sound of a rushing river meets his ears. Diabloâs hooves sound off against the wood of the bridge. He finally sees what disturbed the other rider so much.Â
Youâre sitting on the railing of the bridge, legs dangling dangerously over the edge as you stare down into the crashing waters below you. Arthur gets off his horse, approaching you slowly. He doesnât want to startle you and have you go tumbling over the edge.Â
He calls out your name and you glance briefly over at him. Blood is splattered across your neck and the front of your shirt is soaked with it. He knows it isnât yours but it still puts him on edge. âWhatâre you doinâ kid?âÂ
You donât answer him, âDid you follow me?â He eases up beside you, straddling the railing so he can catch you if you slip. He nods and you let out a rough sigh. âIs he dead?â
He scoffs, âSure as shit hope so, donât know how someone would survive that.â
A manic laugh bursts through your lips and you double over your head falling into your hands. Arthur surges forward, steadying you before you dive headfirst into the river. âAlright, letâs go,â he quietly urges you around. You donât put up a fight, letting him maneuver you how he likes.
He gets you on your feet and leads you back to Diablo. You latch onto the horse's reigns immediately, stroking your hand over his mane. Your silence is concerning. Arthur doesnât know what your regular behavior is, the most heâs seen of you, you have been quiet. This is different, though. Heâs seen this sort of quiet in women before and it never ends pretty.Â
âYouâre alright, come on,â he tries to keep his voice low so he doesnât set you off. He keeps his hands light as they land around your waist, giving you help onto Diabloâs saddle. Your gaze is distant and you move like someone else is controlling your body.Â
He collects the mare youâd brought along with you and leads both horses into town. Heâll have to get a saddle for her, she already seems attached to you. And maybe taking a horse with you into the city will let you escape a little.Â
The town, at least, is on the way to Strawberry so he doesnât have to worry about being too far off schedule. Though, thatâs the least of his concerns right now. His eyes keep darting up to you. Waiting for you to try and bolt again or finally break down. It doesnât look like anything is going on in your head, you seem completely distanced from the situation.Â
Itâs a good thing for him. He canât handle a distraught woman. Heâs not a kind enough man for it.Â
He hitches the horses in front of the hotel. You turn in the saddle, staring down at him and waiting for a hand down. You slide easily through his hands, landing in the mud with a dull thud and heading up the stairs of the hotel without prompt.Â
He huffs and follows after you. He doesnât know how to explain the blood on your clothes away and hopes he wonât have to. The man running the place, thankfully, doesnât have many questions. He looks disturbed but keeps his qualms to himself when Arthur slips him a little extra cash.Â
Arthur guides you up the stairs with a light hand on your back, opening the door of the bath for you. âAlright, hereâs your room key. Iâll be out for a while so, just,â he sighs, taking in the blank look on your face and shaking his head. âTry not to cause any more trouble.â You nod and close the door behind him.Â
Thereâs no worries that youâre going to make a run for it again. Heâs sure whatever happened in those woods was scarring enough to make you want to go back to the city and never see country folk again. He wouldnât blame you, there are some nasty people out here. Himself included, but he could never imagine hurting a woman like that. It just ainât right.Â
He heads to the shop across the street, buying some new clothes for you that actually fight properly. The horses are brought to the stables and he goes ahead and gets a paper for your mare under your name. Diablo will be faster tomorrow if he doesnât have to carry the weight of two people. You might make it to your handler in time.Â
Arthur still doesnât feel right about this whole thing. Leaving you with a man youâve never met feels even worse knowing what happened to you today. He doesnât think you being so calm about it all is a good thing. Shouldnât women react?
Dutch likes to tell him women are a more sensitive breed. Heâs seen some tough ones in his life, but this seems like the time to be in hysterics if there ever was one. He heads back to the hotel, planning on just leaving the change of clothes in your room.Â
He passes by the bath and hears an odd sound seeping through the cracks. Frowning, he presses his ear up against the door. A man passes by him, giving him a disgusted look as he goes into his room. Arthur sighs but he stays where he is.Â
Itâs clearer now, youâre crying and itâs hard to listen to. It's the type that makes it hard to breathe. That sort of crying makes your ribs ache and bruise. Itâs wrong to keep listening to such a vulnerable moment. So, he does what he planned, drops the clothes in your room, and then heads to bed himself.Â
Sleep comes easier than he thought it would. Itâs not as restful as heâd been hoping but it draws over him faster than it normally does. Heâs always been a light sleeper, though. It comes from years of having to be on guard in case some OâDriscoll is gonna try and slit his throat while heâs asleep.Â
When he hears the door creak his hand is already on the trigger of his revolver as he shoots up in bed. The glow of the lamps outside illuminates whatâs clearly a womanâs form. But he canât see your face until you take a step further into the room and the moonlight provides some light.Â
âArthur?â You whisper his name, peering into his room. âAre you awake?â
âI am now,â he grumbles. With a sigh, he shoves the gun back under his pillow and runs a rough hand over his face. âWhat'd ya want?â
You let out a low breath and rock back on your heels. âIâm sorry,â you mutter. âI just, I canât sleep. I keep thinking heâs gonna creep out of my closet or bust through the door, I-â
You cut yourself off but he can hear the emotion thickening your voice. He clenches his eyes shut in irritation, arguing with himself over what heâs about to say. âYou wanna sleep in here?â He mumbles reluctantly.Â
You close the door immediately, practically running towards his bed. âYou donât mind?â
Youâre not really giving him a choice, but heâs not going to say that to you. âNo.â He grabs a pillow and blanket off the bed and rounds the end of the mattress. You frown as you watch him toss everything to the ground.Â
âWell, whatâre you doing?â
âWhatâs it look like?â He snaps, angrily gesturing towards the floor. âIâm givinâ you the bed.âÂ
You bite your lip and he feels horrible instantly because you look like youâre about to cry. Heâs not trying to be rude but you woke him up in the dead of night. Whatâd you expect him to say?
âI was sort of hoping we could share the bed.â
His eyes widen and he glares at you in disbelief. âYou mean-â
âNo!â You cut him off with an aggrieved sigh. âYou fool, thatâs not what I mean at all. I just donât want to be alone, alright?âÂ
âLook,â he scoffs and shakes his head. âI donât think Iâm the man you want to bunk with for company, alright. Iâm not that kind of guy.â You glare at him and snatch his pillow and blanket off the floor.Â
âDonât be so damn stubborn.â You aggressively fluff the pillows, throwing the covers back and gesturing towards them, your brow set in anger.Â
âRight,â he huffs, âIâm stubborn.â He reluctantly crawls into bed and you follow behind him. Itâs not that he minds sharing a bed with a pretty lady. Heâs just not the sort of guy you should be coming to for comfort.Â
He doesnât think he can provide whatever it is you need at this moment. But you seem to think otherwise as you inch towards him slowly. He lays on his back, arms under his head as he watches you out of the side of his eye. You think youâre being subtle, slowly moving into his side until youâre flush against him.Â
He doesnât say anything to object and you donât bring up the proximity. He doesnât want to admit it but it is nice having someone else beside him. Heâs so used to camping out on his own. He hasnât had anyone beside him in a long while. He lost interest in women of leisure a long while ago. And ever since Mary, heâs given up on any sort of intimacy.Â
He hates to admit it, but he finds himself easing towards the warmth you provide. The second you feel him reciprocating youâre inching a tentative hand around his waist, cuddling closer to him. He recognizes it for what it is.Â
Heâs always been looked at as someone who can protect, at least by the gang. Heâs their muscle. To most others, he incites nothing but fear. It should be the same for you. But after what happened today, you just see someone who can keep the monsters in the dark away.Â
He doesnât mind being used like this. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and waits until he feels you settle to ease into sleep again.Â
Arthur figures you should both get breakfast in town while youâre here. He reasons you should enjoy a hot meal before youâre on the road again. You donât point out that you know heâs just trying to ease you into the day.Â
You appreciate it, honestly, but yesterday wasnât your first run-in with men like that. Itâs become incomprehensibly normal in day-to-day life, even for a city girl like yourself. Youâd cried everything out in the bath once youâd scrubbed your skin raw.Â
You donât think Arthur will ever understand just how much his presence helped you last night. If youâd been on your own, jumping every time you heard the wood creaking outside, youâd have driven yourself over the edge. He protected you, even if there was nothing to be protected from.Â
You donât think he gives himself enough credit. Ignoring the situation youâre both in and what heâs taking you to do, heâs a good man. While the caliber of the men youâve met is questionable at best, heâs one of the best ones youâve ever known. At the end of the day, he disagrees with the whole situation, but heâs doing this for his family. Thatâs admirable in its own way.Â
But, god, does he have poor conversational skills. âSo, yesterday.â You glance up from your toast, brows raised in question. He clears his throat, eyes darting between you and his food like he canât choose what to focus on. âThat man, did heâŠâ
He trails off and you feel your hackles rise. âDonât worry,â you hiss, a bite to your words, âIâm still pure for my husband. Your pay wonât be docked, if thatâs what youâre worried about.â
His hand clenches around his fork and his eyes bore into yours, âThatâs not what I meant,â he growls. âI wasnât worried about that,â he snaps, âI was worried âbout you, woman.â
You take in a deep breath, actively biting your tongue from saying something spiteful. He wasnât being rude, thatâs just what youâre used to. âIâm sorry,â you concede lowly. âNothing happened,â you repeat without the attitude.Â
âWell,â he huffs and goes back to his breakfast, âgood,â he settles on dully.Â
âGood,â you agree quietly, pushing the rest of your food around. You find your appetite dulled and you push the plate away. You lean back in the booth and stare out the window. The horses seem to be getting on well enough. âDid you name her?â
Arthur gives you an odd look and you nod towards the mare hitched next to Diablo. He swallows the food heâd been chewing and takes a swig of his coffee. âNo, figured youâd want to do it.â
Your brows furrow and your lips quirk in confusion. âWhy?â
âSheâs yours, ainât she?â He grouses.Â
You shake your head, âNope,â you tell him, popping the p. âI just took her so Iâd have something to get me to town.â
âYeah, well,â he sounds less sure of himself and heâs looking like he made a mistake. âI thought sheâd be nice for you to have with you in the city. A way for you to get around without relyinâ on someone else.â
You canât help but smile, something in your chest easing away at the kind gesture. âI appreciate it,â he lights up a little at your approval, but you crush it in an instant. âBut I canât keep her, I wonât be allowed to. Iâve tried to have my own horse before, hard to control something that can get away from you,â you tell him blankly. Thereâs no emotion in your voice because itâs something youâre used to.Â
He looks slightly horrified at how blunt you are. He canât comprehend not having that freedom but he fails to recognize that heâs got a leash of his own. You doubt a man like Dutch would ever let his main asset just run off to wherever he wants to.Â
A few people walk into the saloon, the women giving you odd looks when they see the pants on your legs. You smile cheekily at them, reveling in what you know will be a short-lived experience. Youâve never been on the receiving end of a judgmental look like that.Â
Youâve always blended in. Been the perfect wallflower for the men in your life. You were never something to gawk at or cause trouble. Itâs a relief to stick out for once, to break the mould for the first time in your life.Â
Arthur clocks the interaction and chuckles. âMissinâ the skirts yet?â
âNot one damn bit,â you tell him, smiling as you take a sip of your coffee. âIâm going to miss being able to run around without having to lug an extra four pounds of fabric behind me.âÂ
âYa know, you could just wear some pants, youâve got a choice.â
You grin patronizingly at him, propping your head on your chin and watching him finish the rest of his breakfast. âYou donât know city men very well, do you?â
âGlad for it,â he grumbles, distaste clear in his tone.
A laugh breaks through your chest, the first real one in a while. âIâm going to be marrying one, Arthur. I wonât have a choice in much of anything anymore.â You can tell he wants to object, tell you thereâs always a choice.Â
Heâll never truly understand whatâs going to happen to you, though. Youâre no longer human once youâre married. Youâre cattle and property, meant to be bred and shown off. You accepted your fate a long while ago. And after youâre failed escape attempt, youâve realized this is what you were always meant to be. Thereâs no point in fighting fate.Â
âDonât apologize or argue,â you tell him, no spite or bitterness in your tone, just the honest truth. âI donât mind anymore, really. What place is there for me in this world, anyway? I canât exactly take care of myself.â
âYou did a damn good job yesterday,â he snaps back quickly. He doesnât seem too keen on the way youâre talking about yourself. But youâre not lying. Yesterday was a wake-up call. If you let yourself get screwed over by a hillbilly that quickly then how were you ever going to make it on your own? In your defense, you were raised to be dependent, you never had a chance.Â
âSure, but that was a one-off incident. Iâm not going to run again, Arthur. Thereâs no point. And thereâs no point in fighting against the way things are, theyâre never going to change for me.â You take in a deep breath, the easy mood ruined by your sincerity.Â
âIâm just gonna wait by the horses.â
You slide out of the booth, leaving Arthur to stare pensively at his plate. Youâve nearly slipped through the door when Arthur calls out, âYou should name her.â You pause at the doorway, glancing back at him. Heâs settling the bill at the front and you walk back out to the horses.Â
The mare picks her head up as you walk towards her, ears perked and tail flicking. âHey, girl,â you run a hand over her muzzle, admiring the sleek silver of her coat. âI guess I should name you.â
You run a hand over her mane and swing yourself onto the saddle. âHow âbout Bullet, itâs how I got you, anyway.â A dark joke, but it eases the macabre feeling hanging around you.Â
Arthur walks out of the saloon, tucking his money away into his bag. He lifts himself onto Diablo, glancing over at you with a knowing glint.Â
âName her?â
You resent how smug he sounds. âBullet,â you answer reluctantly.Â
âBullet?â He questions, tone incredulous.Â
You grin at him, âItâs how I got her.â Thereâs a slightly stunned expression on his face before it slacks away into something more amused.Â
He shakes his head and nudges Diablo forward, Bullet follows alongside him eagerly. âClever,â he mutters.
âNot really,â you snort, running a hand over her neck lovingly. âBut I think it works for her.â
âYour husbandâs gonna have his hands full with you,â you know he means it in jest. The lightness of the conversation turns into something heavier. Realization sinks over both of you and the smiles slowly drop away. âI-â
âHow much further to Strawberry, anyway?â You effectively cut off whatever train of thought he was going to follow, distracting you both from the truth.Â
âHalf a day,â he tells you, frowning when you refuse to meet his eye again. Half a day. Thatâs all youâve got to enjoy the last bits of freedom you have. Youâre gonna take your damn time getting there, thatâs for sure.Â
You slow down from the steady trot Arthur had led the horses into, easing Bullet into a slow walk. Youâre slowly getting the hang of riding a horse. Itâs easy when sheâs so intuitive. By god, though, your ass is sore.Â
Arthur shoots you a questioning glance at the slow pace and you shrug. âMight as well take the time Iâve got left.â
âYouâre actinâ like youâre on death row,â he chuckles.Â
âArenât I?â He falls silent and you donât know whatâs bothering him but you donât have the energy to inquire.Â
Heâs slowing you down on purpose, he knows it and you know it. Neither of you says a damn thing about it but itâs bugging him. He shouldnât be this bothered by a job. He knows how to separate himself from what he does. He just canât this time.Â
Thereâs something about you that glows. Youâre sitting beside him on the peak of a hill, overlooking the roads below you, and laughing as you make up stories for the people that pass by. Itâs a far cry from the beaten-down woman heâd seen at Craneâs house.Â
Even after what happened yesterday, you somehow manage to seem happier. Thereâs nothing about it that makes him happy. This feels like the last goodbye of someone who knows theyâre going soon. The last bout of happiness before they just give in.Â
Youâre not gaining your spark back, youâre just giving in to what you think is inevitable. But it doesnât have to be inevitable. You could fight back you just refuse to. Heâs sure growing up the way you have, you donât think it's possible to stand up for yourself.Â
But you donât have to give in like this. You donât have to roll over and let someone else dictate your life. Which is rich, coming from him. Heâs practically Dutchâs lap dog now. Even when he disagrees he still follows along behind him.Â
He shouldnât even be thinking like this. He canât criticize you for not standing up for yourself when heâs the one thing standing between you and freedom. âNot hungry?â You nod towards the uneaten meat on his knife.Â
He shakes his head, plucking it off the blade and passing it to you. You give him an odd look before popping it in your mouth. âYa know,â you mutter around a full mouth. You take a moment to swallow it down before smiling over at him. âIâve grown up with private chefs my whole life, but thereâs is something infinitely more satisfying about this.â
He takes his hat off, running a hand through his hair. He snorts at your comment, âI find that hard to believe.â
âNo,â you shake your head, insistent, âI mean it. Being out here, hunting the game myself, I donât know, itâs nice.â You shrug and lean back on your hands, gazing across the way at the trees and river.Â
âYou can always get a bow and go hunting.â He speaks to you like it's a cut-and-dry truth that youâre just not accepting. Your face screws up and you give him an annoyed glare.Â
âNo. I canât,â you tell him again. Where your words were patient before, he can tell youâre growing irritated at how much heâs pushing this.
âYes, you can,â he snaps. âYou donât have to keep yourself boxed up in some manor in the city. Get out, woman, do something with your life!â His voice echoes through the air and you flinch back from it, lips pulling down into a sneer.Â
âYou know, thatâs really easy for you to say, Arthur. You have a goddamn choice. Sure, I grew up with a silver spoon in my mouth, little miss rich girl crying about being pampered.â
He lets out a rough sigh, âThatâs not what I meant-â
You cut him off, getting to your feet and glaring down at him. âYou got to grow up with a choice. What to do with your body, your life, your career. You get to have an education if you want it. Every goddamn door is open to you. You donât get hated for not wanting to have a family. You get to choose. And as much as you insist I can too, you will never understand the position I am in.â
You kick dirt over the fire and head back towards Bullet. âItâs a double-edged sword, Arthur. Sure, my life might be comfortable, but itâs never really gonna be my life.â He stays there on the ground, too stunned to get up.Â
You glare down at him, impatiently waiting for him to get a move on. This isnât how he wants things to end. He doesnât want you to go off thinking heâs just some ignorant fool. But he is, much as he denies it, heâs always been a fool.Â
He should never have thought he could make a difference in your life. Not when heâs the one backing you into this corner. He could have helped you escape the very first night he saw you. But he was too selfish to let you go, now youâre both paying for it.Â
He mounts Diablo and you both head back to the roads silently. Youâre moving faster now, leaving him behind if he lingers in one area for too long. Youâre too pissed off to enjoy the rest of your day and he hates that he ruined it for you. You, at the very least, deserved a slower journey towards your future.Â
Youâre in Strawberry before heâs ready, heâs sure you arenât. âHey, we could-â
âI think thatâs him.â You cut him off before he says something stupid like spend another night in town before you go. Heâll miss you, he thinks. Odd, heâs known you such a short time but itâs been so different having someone beside him as he rides. It was nice, what he wished he and Mary could have had.Â
Arthur follows your gaze and lets out a tired sigh. Sure enough, some prim and proper ass is standing in front of the ticket station, foot tapping impatiently. Heâs got a large bag beside him, gaze wandering around expectantly. He doesnât doubt the man who looks like heâs got a five-foot stick up his ass is Mr. Craneâs associate. Heâs got the same slimy glint.
You slide off Bullet and Arthur follows suit, taking the reigns of both horses and leading them towards the platform. The manâs eyes narrow in on you before lighting up. He calls out your name and itâs like a mask being dropped over your face.Â
The spark is gone once more, a subdued and demure smile resting on your face as you wave at him. âI apologize for my dress,â you tell him as you walk up the steps. âPants were more conducive to such a long ride.â
He takes your hand, pressing a lingering kiss to your knuckles that makes Arthur roll his eyes. âNo apologies necessary, I brought you a change of clothes. I figured you would be less than put together after such a journey. Iâm only sorry I couldnât accompany you.â
You scoff and nod along, âOkay,â you mutter, not believing a word of his bullshit. You take the bag from him and move towards the saloon to find a room to change in. They both watch you leave, though the other man with a much more devious glint in his eye.Â
Arthurâs hands tighten on the reigns of the horses, anything to keep him from reaching for his revolver. Heâs already getting a bad feeling about this. Thereâs nothing trustworthy about the man in front of him.Â
âMr. Finch,â he holds out his hand and Arthur gives it a distrusting look before reluctantly shaking. Finch attempts to squeeze the life out of his hand but Arthur can barely feel it. He tightens his own grip and revels in the way Finchâs face blanches.Â
âArthur Morgan.â
Mr. Finch looks him up and down in the same way Crane had. He sees a commodity, not a person. âI trust,â he drawls, ânothing unsavory happened.â
Arthur feels rage bubbling in his gut. The only damn thing he cares about is whether or not youâre âpure.â Not if you were okay or injured during the journey. If he told him that heâd punched you out for talking back Finch would just ask if you were bruised.Â
âSheâs fine,â Arthur grits out.Â
âOh, good, good. Glad everything went smoothly.â Finch has a way of talking heâs found most self-important men do. He draws everything he says out, and forces you to listen to him speak. Makes you pay attention so he can pretend he has power for a moment.Â
His gaze darts behind Arthur and he turns just in time to see you slipping out of the saloon. The dress Finch has provided you is ridiculously large. It poofs out at the waist in a way that makes Arthur wonder how youâre going to fit into your seat.Â
You look beyond uncomfortable. Grimacing as you join them again. You try and plaster a smile on but itâs a struggle. You look to Arthur, a finality on your face that makes him want to throw you over his shoulder and run. Heâs doing this for the others, he reminds himself. Theyâll be on a boat to Tahiti in a week.Â
âThank you, Mr. Morgan, for everything.â The smile you leave him with is real, if just barely. Something lurks under your words that Mr. Finch will never understand and Arthur knows it will drive him crazy.Â
âLetâs go,â Finch grabs your hand, looping it through his arm and tugging you towards the doors of the station.Â
âWait!â Arthur calls out, feeling foolish when you both look back at him with perplexed expressions. âYouâll be wanting Bullet, wonât you?â
Mr. Finch answers for you with a condescending tone, âShe wonât be needing a horse, thank you.â You give him a knowing smile, turning away and slipping through the doors of the station and onto the train.Â
Arthur stays rooted where he is, something crawling up in his chest and rooting around restlessly. The whistle blows and the wheels start cranking slowly forward. Arthur just barely catches a glimpse of you through a window as the train chugs past.Â
âShit!â He hisses. He tugs himself up onto Diabloâs saddle and urges him after the train. He was born a fool, heâs always going to be a damn fool. But heâd have to be a complete moron to just let you go.Â
Mr. Finch keeps a painfully tight grip on your elbow, jerking you through the passenger cars and practically throwing you into your seat. You land with a thud, your arm bouncing against the window painfully. You keep a stoic expression, trying not to let him break you so soon.Â
He takes a seat beside you, straightening out his jacket and tugging on his tie. Something white flashes in his jacket pocket and you lean forward, perplexed when you realize what it is. âWhat is that?â You question, not quite believing your eyes. Finch glances down at the thick wad of cash in his jacket and grins.Â
âOh, this? Mr. Morgan must have forgotten to collect the rest of his payment.â He sends you a condescending smile and you flinch away in disgust. âHe was too enamored with my fiancee to pay much attention, Iâm afraid.â
âThatâs his money,â you snap, the volume of your voice catching the attention of a few other passengers. Finch sends them apologetic smiles, making you seem like a mad woman. âHe earned that!â You object, eyeing the money warily.Â
His hand snakes out, gripping you tightly around the arm and dragging you towards him until your noses are nearly touching. You nearly gag at the smell of his cigar-infused breath. Itâs not like when Arthur would smoke one, you didnât mind that. But this was making you sick to your stomach.Â
âLet's get a few things clear, I will not be dealing with an obstinate wife. You can either get yourself in order or Iâll do it for you.â
Your lips pull back in disgust and you jerk yourself out of his grip. Heâs not as strong as he pretends to be and youâre not going to be scared into submission again. âIâm not your wife yet. My father still has time to pay.â
He laughs at you, spittle flying from your lips and sprinkling across your cheeks. âHe has time to pay, but that doesnât mean heâll be getting you back, sweetheart.â Your eyes widen with the realization and you want to throw yourself off the side of the train.Â
You never had any chance to get out of this situation. Mr. Crane was always in control of it all. To even think of having a hope of getting back home was foolish. To believe for a second that you were going to escape this had been utter idiocy.Â
He sees the crestfallen expression and sinks into his seat with a satisfactory look on his face. He thinks you to be subdued. But now youâre nothing more than a cornered animal with no other choice of escape. Youâve got nothing left for you, nothing to hold onto.Â
As much as youâd thought youâd bonded with Arthur, you were still nothing more than a job to him. You were nothing more than a commodity to be traded between men. You would never have a say over your life.Â
You have nothing, you doubt you ever actually had anything left for you. You glance over at the man beside you and feel a cool dread blanket itself over you. Nothing left to lose.Â
Thereâs a solid weight tucked into the bodice of your dress. Its cool metal has been warmed by your skin. Its handle curves around your ribs and it only has one bullet left. You reach down the front of your dress, fingers curling around the revolver youâd stolen from a dead man.Â
Finch glowers at your inappropriate behavior âWhat are-â You pull the gun out, turning it on him. He jumps back in shock and throws his hands in the air on instinct. âPlease-â you revel in his pathetic pleading only for a moment. Pulling the trigger a second time is surprisingly easy. The screams that ring out through the train car are less enjoyable. âShit!â He cusses, hands coming up to try and staunch the flow of blood pouring from his stomach.Â
You slip your hand into his blazer, stealing the money before he can object. You run out of the passenger car, leaping to the flat car with all the cargo. It will take a few minutes for them to catch onto what happened and figure out where you went.Â
You donât know what youâre going to do now. Youâre stuck on a moving train, thereâs nowhere for you to hide. You hadnât thought when youâd shot him, you just wanted that smug look on his face to disappear.Â
âWhere is she?â You hear the guards shouting out your name, flipping over crates to find you. Theyâre still at the front of the train, but you donât have long until they start moving back here.Â
God, what have you done?
You just know, if you made it to that train station, you were never going to make it out. His men would be waiting there to transport you. Youâd be watched every second of your life, you canât do it again. You canât be locked in a gilded cage, thatâs not a life worth living.Â
Thereâs no escape for you. Nowhere left to run, nowhere to hide. You glance over the left side of the train. Thereâs a slight dip into a deep ravine. The crashing water looks almost peaceful from up here.Â
You donât know if it would be a quick death but you know it would be merciful compared to whatâs waiting for you at your last stop. You keep your eyes on the water, see yourself taking control of your life for the first time, and take a step up on the rail.Â
Someone shouts your name from the right side of the train and you gasp, arms circling wildly as you almost go toppling over the edge. They shout your name again, panic laced in the tone. This doesnât sound like Finch or any of the other guards. You whip around and find Arthur riding his horse beside the train.Â
âWhat the hell are you doing, woman?âÂ
Your brows furrow in confusion and your eyes dart between him and the ravine. âJumping! What the hell are you doing?â
His gaze narrows and he shouts to be heard over the rumble of the train tracks. âStopping you from being a goddamn fool. Get over here!â You hear the guards getting closer as they storm down the rest of the train.Â
You donât have long to make a decision, you can already see his horse struggling to keep up with the speed of the train. Thereâs a bridge coming up in a moment, he wonât be able to go any further and they wonât be able to come after you.Â
Itâs a split-second decision, one that has you pushing off the railing of the car and rushing towards him. You donât have time to doubt yourself or plan this out further, you take a running leap off the train, towards his outstretched arms.Â
He barely catches you in time, jerking on the reigns of the horse and bringing him to a sudden stop before all three of you go tumbling into the water. Shots fire off on the train, but theyâre gone before they can do any real damage.Â
Your chest heaves as you dangle from his arms, fingers digging into his shirt desperately. Your heart is pounding so hard against your chest that you almost canât hear what heâs saying, but you get the gist of it.Â
âThe hell were you thinking? Trying to jump off the damn train! Youâre a fool, woman.â He tugs you onto the saddle the rest of the way. As much as he tries to sound angry you can feel his relief in the way he squeezes you close to him.Â
âThank you,â you whisper, head sinking into his neck and breathing in the familiar scent.Â
He sighs, struggling between yelling at you more and just enjoying the fact that he got to you before you did something neither of you could recover from. âYouâre welcome, just,â he pauses, holding you a little closer, âdonât be so damn stupid again.â
You laugh and itâs a little wet as tears start to pool in your eyes. âIâm not planning on it.â You sit up, easing away from him and glancing over your shoulder. You watch as the train grows smaller until you can only see a plume of smoke and nothing more. âWhat the hell are we going to do?â
He sighs and turns the horse around. You maneuver yourself around, facing forward and pushing back against him. âI donât know. Dutch ainât gonna be happy about you cominâ back with me.âÂ
You bite your lip, a hundred different possibilities swirling through your head. Youâve never been able to make a choice before, faced with it, youâre overwhelmed with options. You canât pick one so you blurt out the first coherent thought you have.Â
âWhat if we donât go back?â
Arthur stills behind you, âWhat?â His tone is low and filled with something you know means heâs ready to say no.Â
âJust for a little while,â you rush the words out quickly, trying to fight for a chance to get him to listen. âWe can send this to the camp,â you tug out the wad of cash youâd stolen from Finch and Arthur barks out a laugh. You feel his chest tremble behind you and it makes you grin.Â
âDid you steal his money?â
âYour money, technically,â you correct, grinning over your shoulder at him. âBesides, he doesnât need it anymore.â He gives you a concerned look but you just wave him off. âWe can send the camp some money and go off on our own for a while.â
âI donât know, kid.â
âDonât call me that,â you interrupt, glaring at him. âItâll only be for a little while, Arthur. Come on, Iâm free for the first time in my life, enjoy it with me.â
He looks uncertain and you know itâs an odd notion to him, putting himself first instead of the camp or Dutch. Youâre sure heâs never done it before. Breaking away from them instead of going about like the loyal soldier he is.Â
âJust a little while?â
You nod, turning just enough to tuck the money in his pocket. âJust a little while,â you swear.
âJohn Marston!â You frown, turning away from the oven and glancing out the window. Arthurâs grinning by the gates of the horse pen, leaping over the wood, and walking out to greet someone. You abandon the stew, heading towards the door of your home.Â
Outside are two horses, one with a woman and her son, and an abandoned one. The owner is currently bringing Arthur into a brief embrace, John, you presume. Arthurâs told you about him a bit. They werenât always close but it was getting better before Arthur went away.Â
Sometimes you feel bad, having dragged him away from everything he was familiar with. You meant it when you said you only wanted to be gone for a little while. You knew if you went back immediately there would be hell to pay with Dutch and youâd both be put to work.Â
Youâd be going from one owner to another. All youâd wanted was a few weeks on the road on your own. But a few weeks turned into six months and then a year, and it was Arthur telling you he couldnât go back. He couldnât stand what the gang was turning into. What Dutch was turning into. All youâd given him was an excuse to finally get out before it all blew up.
You walk down the steps of the home Arthur built, wiping your hands off on your apron. You give a brief wave to the woman you assume is Abigail. She waves back, slipping off the horse and helping Jack down.Â
Arthur pulls away from John, turning towards you and motioning you forward. John gives you an apprehensive look. âDo I know you?â
Arthur gives him your name, throwing an arm over your shoulder and pulling you in closer. âThat job Dutch got from Crane.â Johnâs face lights up with recognition and he smirks.Â
âI see,â he shakes his head and gives Arthur a knowing look. âItâs always a woman with you, isnât it?â You snort at how aggrieved Arthur looks. âWell,â John turns towards you and smiles, ânice to finally meet the woman that got him under control.â
âNice to meet you too,â you smile lightly at him, pulling away from Arthur. âAre you going to be joining us for dinner?â
âNo, heâs not,â Arthur answers at the same time John says, âI would love to.â
Arthur and John share a look you canât understand. You glance past John and wave Abigail forward, âCome in, please. Iâd enjoy the company.â
âForgive my obstinate husband, he tends to linger where he ainât wanted.â She brushes past him and you lead her inside your home. Leaving Arthur and John to bicker outside. Jack stays outside, smiling up at Arthur. You know heâs missed the boy, youâre sure heâs okay entertaining them for one night.Â
Abigail helps you set the table while Arthur and John catch up over a bottle of whiskey. Arthur tried to pull out a cigar but youâd shut that down quick. Heâd had a cough a little while ago and the doctor advised cutting down on tobacco if he wanted it to go away. You know itâs hard but youâre cracking down on how much he smokes.Â
âWe got the money you sent,â Johnâs telling Arthur as they come over to join you all at the table. Jack eagerly hops into the seat beside Arthur before you can snag it and you grin. âDutch blew it all and wouldnât tell us on what. He kept saying we still needed another score.â
John shakes his head and the distant look in his eyes makes your stomach churn. âYouâre a lucky bastard you got out when you did, Arthur, truly.â
âHosea?â Arthur questions and you grimace at the look on Johnâs face. You can see Arthur deflate as John shakes his head.Â
âThere was a bank robbery, Molly told the Pinkertons we were going to be there, he didnât make it.â
Arthurâs hand clenches around the fork and you wish you could say something that would make him realize itâs not his fault. âI should have been there,â he mutters.Â
âWouldnât have done anything, man. Hosea had given up in the end. We all had. It was so damn divided, the family was gone.â
âStill.â Arthur insists, glaring down at his plate like it had offended him.Â
âNo,â to your surprise itâs Abigail that snaps. âDutch was gone and that bastard Micah just kept pushing him over the edge. The only thing you would have done is get yourself killed. Youâre damn lucky Arthur Morgan.â
Youâre sure heâll still blame himself later. Reason a hundred times over that had he been there something would have been different. Even if it was him on the other end of the gun heâd be happier knowing someone else hadnât died when it could have been him. You couldnât stand that these self-sacrificing ideals Dutch had drilled into him were still present.Â
But you know Abigail and John help ease the guilt slightly. Itâs on Arthur to let it go entirely, though you doubt that will happen anytime soon. John picks up on the change in mood, heâs reluctant to let the night sour so soon.Â
He turns towards you with a look that makes you feel like you need to prepare for trouble. âSo you did all that to escape getting married. And then you marry this moron?â He motions towards Arthur and you canât help but laugh.Â
âJohn!â Abigail snaps but he only smiles at her. You can see the way she fights the twitch of her lips and it makes you smile in turn.Â
You correct him, âWeâre not technically married-â
âMight as well be,â Arthur argues, glaring at John. You reach across the table, taking his hand in yours and gently squeezing. You canât help but laugh at him.Â
âYeah, we might as well be,â you agree. âBut it was never about not wanting to be a wife. I just wanted to have a damn choice. Thatâs what I got out here. I can hunt or cook. Sew or go out and make some money. And itâs a lot nicer being a wife out in the country than it is in the city, Iâll tell you that much.â
âHereâs hoping,â Abigail mutters. She glances towards Arthur, âThatâs why weâre out here. We got word from a few people that you might be lurking around here. Johnâs thinking of getting a house, really settling down.â
Arthur sighs, leaning back in his chair and glaring at John. âThatâs why youâre here? You want a handout,â he accuses.Â
âNo!â John snaps. âDammit, Arthur, why you always gotta assume the worst of me?â
âBecause itâs usually true,â Arthur mutters. âIf thatâs not what you want then what is it?â
John purses his lips and lets out a spluttering breath. âA loan,â he lands on, struggling to find the right word.Â
Arthur barks out a laugh, slapping his hand on the table and poking a knowing finger into Johnâs chest. âI knew it!â
John swats his hand away and glares. âLook, Morgan, I only need a little. Just to buy some animals, get started on the house.â
âWhatâd ya want Marston, my whole damn house?â
Abigail lands a gentle hand on your arm and nods to the porch. âTheyâll be at it for a while.â You nod and leave the table, following her to the swing out back. She settles down on it with a sigh, gazing out at the trees that line your home.Â
âYouâve got a nice life out here.â
You smile fondly, âI like to think so. Weâre thinking about getting a few cows, maybe starting a proper ranch.â
Her face lights up at the idea and she laughs. âThatâs what John wants. Itâs unbelievable how similar they are, theyâre too thick-headed to see it.â
You can still vaguely hear them bickering inside the house. You peer inside and see Jack sitting at the table, watching them both with an entranced expression. You canât help but grin at the look on Arthurâs face. Heâs laying into John but he looks happier than youâve seen him in a while.Â
You know heâs missing everybody, has been for a long time. Maybe if Abigail and John are close by heâll have that sense of familiarity again. âThe others,â you start, turning back to Abigail. âCharles and Sadie, what happened to everyone else?â
âA few of them are living good lives, some of them arenât. Most of them are drifting, not ready to give up the outlaw life just yet.â
âItâs hard to watch the world change while youâre still stuck in the same spot.â You brush some hair out of your eyes and smile at Abigail. âMe and Arthur are gonna help you and John. But Iâd like it if you were both close by. It would be nice to have someone familiar near us, weâre pretty lonely up here.â
She gives you a brief smile back, âI think that would be nice.â
Johnâs voice picks up from inside and you jump, âOh thatâs a load of bull-â
Abigailâs smile drops and she leans over your shoulder to shout, âWatch it!â at John. You laugh when you see the perturbed look on his face. She motions towards his son and Arthur gives John a smug look.Â
âYou gonna help him?â You ask Arthur as you settle into bed later. He opens his arms, pulling you into his embrace once youâre settled under the covers.Â
âJohn?â You nod, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. âYeah, âcourse Iâm gonna help him. But thereâs nothing wrong with jerking him around a little bit first.â
You roll your eyes and shake your head, tucking yourself under his chin. You almost think heâs asleep but then heâs speaking up again. âWe should really do it.â
You pull back, brows furrowed in confusion. âDo what?â
Thereâs a certain look in his eyes that causes something to swirl in your stomach. Itâs not an unpleasant feeling, just an excited one, âGet married.â
You give him a bewildered look, shaking your head in disbelief. Nearly five years youâve both been living out here and heâs never once mentioned getting married. You never thought you two actually needed it. You always knew what you were to each other, how much you meant to one another.Â
You were each otherâs salvation. Thereâs no telling what graves you would be laying in were it not for Dutch bringing you both together. You hadnât thought he wanted to be married, he always told you heâd given those dreams up. âYou really mean that?â
He shrugs like itâs the easiest decision in the world. âMight as well, right?âÂ
You shake your head, but thereâs no fighting the way your lips curl up. âYouâre a fool, Arthur Morgan.â
He nods, dipping his head down to press a gentle kiss on your temple. He treats you so gently, it makes you want to cry. But then he goes and says something ridiculous like, âYeah, a fool for you,â and he makes you laugh.Â
You tug him down, lips nearly touching his. âYes,â you whisper, âIâll marry you.â You were always scared of living a life like this. Being tied to one man for the rest of your time on earth. But heâs not some city man looking to make you into a pet. He lets you live, breathe, and be free. Heâs a partner not a warden and thatâs all youâve ever wanted.Â
end. â I do not own the characters or the game Red Dead Redemption 1/2, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
#Arthur Morgan x reader#arthur morgan x you#arthur morgan imagine#Arthur Morgan#rdr2 x reader#rdr2 x you#rdr2 imagine#rdr2#red dead redemption 2#Red dead redemption 2 x reader
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"but it's realistic that they would breakup"
Not the point.
"But they had a lot of trauma the re-"
Also not the point.
"But at least she's a-"
Absolutely not the point.
Y'all trying to justify a narrative choice from within the narrative constraints.
That's a mistake.
Just like how many people never understood why so many would pick Bae ending, so many people just don't seem to get what the pairing meant overall.
Y'all realise what this pairing meant to people when it came out?
Despite the issues with the ending, the adoration and love the pairing has to this day has been earned by the game - it's inseparable from the franchise and it's reception.
It wasn't just another pairing. It wasn't just something that existed as bait or something within fanon or something developers never committed to.
Through the years plenty of ships get baited disingenuously while throwing the audience nothing but breadcrumbs - for example the disaster of Sherlock fandom, the mess with Supernatural, Teen Wolf, Voltron and so on. Or the way Blake/Yang in RWBY were the most blatant baiting that got no on-screen development(despite all the setup that show ignored for years) till the moment the show literally was getting axed and they wanted to milk LGBTQ+ community for money one last chance, skipping all the development to characterization characters deserve and attempting to bribe LGBTQ+ community with breadcrumbs at the last possible second.
And some shows would stumble into something important but fail to realise it and thus end up squashing it - ask Buffy fans about Tara and Willow or The 100 fans about clexa.
There were LGBTQ+ pairings in video games too but rarely they would be so front and center and very often would be playersexual.
This wasn't what Life is Strange ended up being.
Life Is Strange, at the very core is about queer experience - about fitting in, about making connections in the world that rejects you, about finding beauty in the life that hates and hurts you - Max and Chloe's relationship is the key to the entire game.
For some that meant letting go but for others? It gave the chance to fight a trope no matter what and to get an ending, albeit flawed, where a WLW pairing they liked can be happy and face the future together.
People lived through those two characters and their experiences finding something genuine to relate to.
Max and Chloe were that generation's Korra/Asami, Willow/Tara, etc.
Even DONTNOD recognised that in the end and treated it with respect.
Double Exposure might not pull a BYG outright but it sure does everything to kill the happy memories a fandom made about the pairing - to go back through every single ray of sunshine one ending got and subvert it, taint it, reject it.
Picking the Bae choice when playing Double Exposure is the Narrative constantly telling you how wrong you were to expect happiness when you picked the ending where the pairing is intact and how acshually it isn't intact!
It doesn't kill the characters but it sure goes an extra mile to kill what those characters MEAN to the audience.
Realism, plausibility and so on come after - it's what a writer does when they decide on a path. A writer doesn't just do something because it makes sense and is out of their control - they decide to do it and then make it make sense. Whether they succeed or not depends on how good a writer is.
Double Exposure isn't the story about a breakup. It isn't the story about two women dealing with their trauma.
Double Exposure treats an iconic pairing people cared about as a backstory element - nothing more.
Deck Nine expects the audience to accept what happened and move on to shiny new cast and possible new LIs.
The writers of Double Exposure are telling you - "look, this doesn't matter. Now here's a new mystery you can solve and new cast and look Max is back and you liked using her powers right? Use powers to do stuff."
To this developer team the core element of what made the franchise so important to its audience is nothing more than a leftover plot thread to "write around".
Because to these writers queer experience apparently starts and stops with searching for a relationship - someone being in a relationship that's not part of the story or someone being comfortable NOT being in a relationship at all just don't exist.
What Deck Nine writers seem to be doing is treating it as disposable or interchangeable/replaceable, while also inadvertently tainting whatever comes after with fandom rage.
The worst thing that can happen to a new character is being "the next love interest" - because people channel their frustrations towards the character (or in some worst cases, please don't do this, the actor).
Where there was an iconic part of the franchise Double Exposure, intentionally or not, sets up a toxic battle ground.
That's the point - treating LGBTQ+ audience as sales numbers, manipulating us, treating something that has been a formative experience to so many lives as disposable, or worse yet - malleable.
(And yes there's also a wider issue with Deck Nine and the working conditions there, misogyny, the nazi imagery and the rest but I don't think this is that disconnected from that? How they treat their audience and subject matter is a reflection of culture inside.)
#life is strange#life is strange double exposure#life is strange spoilers#life is strange double exposure spoilers#lis spoilers#lis double exposure#lis double exposure spoilerw#pricefield#max caulfield#chloe price
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A man in Florida was charged last month with sex trafficking a 29-year-old woman whose mental abilities were at the level of a 15-year-old girl. He sold her to men who specifically enjoyed sexual acts with women of diminished intellectual capacity.
Abusers seek easy prey. Targeting individuals with vulnerabilities they can exploit is a low-risk, high-profits game. Across the country, cases from Georgia, Missouri, Florida, California, and around the world, show that women and girls with disabilities bear an increased likelihood of abuse and have a higher prevalence of sexual exploitation than their non-disabled peers.
A 2020 study found that 28% of cases of girls who were sexually trafficked had an intellectual disability compared to the 1-3% of national prevalence. The more severe physical impairment and low cognitive abilities, the higher the risks.
Women with intellectual delays also face myriad personal and socio-environmental barriers in their sexual lives, such as difficulties with lack of sexual experience and negative sexual experiences with nondisabled individuals.
This sobering reality is the backdrop to one of the most critically lauded films of the year, Poor Things by Yorgos Lanthimos. Based on the novel by Alasdair Gray, Poor Things, earned 11 Oscar nominations and four wins, including Best Actress for Emma Stone..
Set in Victorian London, Bella Baxter (Emma Stone) is a married, pregnant and depressed woman who jumps to her death from a bridge. A severely disfigured Dr. Godwin Baxter (Willem Defoe) plucks the unconscious woman from the river and brings her to his laboratory where he implants the brain of Bellaâs fetus in her skull, reanimating Bella Baxter as an adult woman with the mind of an infant.
In real life, Bellaâs condition would match many aspects of what researchers call the physical disability index, such as having limb difficulties; needing assistive care; difficulty standing, grasping or holding items; as well as low cognitive ability that includes the capacity to understand the sexual self. The mad scientist, whom Bella refers to first as Papa and then as âGod,â observes her development from a state of toddlerhood into adolescence.
The men who take care of Bella refer to her as a âpretty retardâ who learns 15 words a day. Her uncontrollable tantrums lead them to drug her into unconscious sedation.
Bella learns to walk, speak, toilet train, greet visitors without punching them, and discovers the pleasures of masturbation, which she performs at the dining table. Quickly, Bella decides she wants more orgasms.
So âGodâ arranges to marry Bella to his feckless student, Max McCandles (Ramy Youssef). However, âGodââs smarmy lawyer, Duncan Wedderburn (Mark Ruffalo) instead whisks Bella away to Portugal, promising to satisfy her unquenched sexual desires.
Midway through the film, we find out that discovering ones clitoris and enjoying the biological responses of sex are not passports to sexual abuse and in no way leads to self-awareness about the endangerments of sexual exploitation.
Things do not go to plan and Bellaâs kidnapper-lover becomes broke and homeless. Looking for a solution, Bella walks into a brothel in Paris and is welcomed by a madam who tells her if one needs money, this place is the shortest route to acquire it.
Bella seems intrigued by the string of hideous and foul-smelling sex buyers who select her on the auction line. âHow it agrees with you to be ravaged,â says one. Another ties her up in a leather BDSM getup. A father orders his two adolescent sons to take notes as they watch him fornicate with Bella.
When Bella blurts out a random thought, the pimp informs the sex buyer that âshe is new and may have a mental illness.â She is his pick for the night.
Bella begins to exhibit dissociation (âI feel nothingâ, she says) and signs of depression, trapped in controlled manipulation with no safeguards to protect her. Indeed, victims of sexual exploitation can acquire physical, cognitive or emotional disabilities in the course of their abuse. The sexual exploitation of girls with reduced mental capacity is no laughing matter; what Bella endures fits the legal definition of sex trafficking.
The movie invites us to see Bellaâs evolution as a tale of womenâs emancipation and sexual liberation. But really, she is an experiment subjected to a sadistic chains of events, camouflaged by extravagant and colorful costumes. Bella admits, as she stares into nowhere, that she always thinks life will be better.
The brothel scenes are not unusual. From Pretty Woman, to Hustlers, to Good Luck to You, Leo Grande, Hollywood has a sweet tooth for glamorizing prostitution and a strong track record on its brutal treatment of women.
Most film critics praised Poor Things for its âsurreal humor,â âcontagious fun,â or as âcreatively uninhibited.â The film won a Golden Globe for Best Comedy or Musical, and Stone for Best Actress for her performance. But Lanthimosâ cinematographic fantasy of men purchasing a woman with impaired faculties for sex is neither original nor humorous.
Bella is not the female version of Frankenstein. Unlike Bella, he is not the constant object of male sexual desire and control. Even as her intellectual development progresses â Bella reads Emerson and opines on socialism -her social integration and cognitive abilities to process her position in the world remain limited.
âGodâ says he could have kept Bella alive but preferred the experiment of observing what a fetusâs brain in a womanâs body could generate. She is the captive of a series of men, each enthralled with creating a cage of their design and desires.
The United Nations Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities considers the vulnerability of people with disabilities â including those with long-term physical, mental, intellectual or sensory impairments â may hinder their full and effective participation in society on an equal basis with others.
Disability rights advocates call to collect data and conduct research on the links between sex trafficking and people with disabilities, and report that women and girls with disabilities remain invisible in laws and policies to prevent sexual exploitation. It would appear to be the case in Hollywood as well.
Some movie-goers would ask us to lighten up: turning the vicissitudes of life into comedy releases anxiety and makes us laugh at fateâs sordid twists.
Perhaps. But neither Stoneâs superb performance as Bella nor the avant-garde Dali-esque set design, which also garnered an Oscar, can mask that Poor Things is yet another production of misogynistsâ dream: to create, own, control, sexualize, infantilize, and commodify women at their pleasure. One of Hollywoodâs favorite themes.
About the Author: Taina Bien-Aime is the Executive Director of Coalition Against Trafficking in Women (CATW)
#my post#ableism#radfem#radical feminists do touch#radical feminist safe#radblr#radical feminism#anti-sex industry
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Girlfriend-For-Hire âËđŠâ đ¶đ·
yandere!ocs x f!reader
yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere
Hoping to try something new and earn a bit of money on the side, you join an app that lets people hire you for your dating services. The idea is pretty straightforward â you pose as the client's girlfriend for a brief period of time, and in turn, you receive payment. But you didn't foresee everyone getting so attached to you, and suddenly, they're no longer satisfied with a fabricated relationship.
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â...you can do what now?â
âHire someone to date you,â your friend, Ava, repeats. She chuckles and waves you off dismissively. âCome on, [Name]. Itâs the modern age. People are always coming up with new things these days. Iâm willing to bet thereâs an app or website out there for practically anything.â
You blink in disbelief. Granted, there is all kinds of crazy shit going on in the world, and youâve heard of companionship services beforeâlike escorts or sugar baby arrangementsâbut to hear that something like this is trending nowadays is still undeniably a shock.Â
âHere, look,â Ava gestures, pulling out her phone. âI was curious, so I downloaded the app the other day just to check out.âÂ
âUh, donât you already have a boyfriend?â
âHe knows I was just browsing. I showed him too, and we scrolled through some stuff together. A lot of the profiles on here are wild,â she laughs. âItâs crazy what people advertise theyâre willing to do. Get a load of this guy. He says heâs down to meet your family and make a total ass out of himself just so that he lowers your parentsâ standards and the next real boyfriend you get will look way better by comparison.â
âFucking hell,â you mutter. âI canât tell if this is actually real, or just some new meme template.âÂ
âOf course itâs real! I think youâre underestimating how lonely people these days are. Thereâs definitely a lot of money to be made in this industry. Just look at how much people are willing to blow on their favorite streamer, even though theyâve never met them a day in their life. Datingâs gotten a lot more complicated lately, so I guess some people just want to skip past the troublesome parts and experience what itâs like to be with someone.âÂ
You furrow your brows. The whole thing sounds incredibly sad when you think of it that way. People would rather pay for a fabricated relationship than put in the time and effort towards building something real? Loneliness is starting to sound like an actual epidemic nowadays.Â
âWell, I guess I shouldnât judge people without understanding where theyâre coming from,â you acknowledge. âItâs not like I know what theyâve been through. Times are changing and all. It sounds like this is actually starting to become pretty mainstream.âÂ
Ava nods chipperly. âYep! I mean, I love my boyfriend, so Iâm definitely not the target audience, but maybe itâs what some people need to gain a little boost of confidence and get back into the dating scene. I doubt everyone uses it in a romantic sense too. There are people out there that just want a bit of company every now and then. Isnât it nice that they have someone to spend time with this way?âÂ
âYeah⊠I guess thatâs true.âÂ
Honestly, youâre still struggling to fully wrap your head around this. You understand the premise well enough, but you canât really get past the part about accepting payment just to provide someone with a fabricated experience. Then again, you suppose thatâs the case for most things nowadays. People are willing to spend the brunt of their earnings on in-game purchases for video games and other things that arenât tangible in the real world, because even though they arenât necessarily organic, it still provides them with some satisfaction.Â
Long story short, itâs not up to you to decide what does or doesnât make someone else happy, and you suppose as long as itâs executed in a professional manner, thereâs nothing wrong with meeting new people this way.Â
âHey, Iâve got a great idea,â Ava suddenly perks up. âYou should join this app! Youâre super pretty, smart, and nice. I bet youâd have loads of guys lining up to hire you as their girlfriend!â
âMe?â You blink repeatedly, shuffling backwards the closer she leans in. âI mean, I just donât think Iâm the right person for the job. If it makes people happy, then I support it, but deep down, I worry Iâd feel like Iâm exploiting someoneâs feelings just for a few extra bucks. Morally speaking, Iâm not so sure I like the ideaâŠâÂ
âItâs not exploitation,â she insists. âPeople know what theyâre signing up for. At the end of the day, itâs a buyer-seller relationship. Someone pays for the service being advertised, and they receive it. As long as youâre not ambiguous about what youâre willing to do for the amount that youâre charging, people know what to expect. Of course, Iâm sure there might be the occasional asshole here and there, but if they do anything inappropriate or violate the terms, you can report them through the app and theyâll be banned from using it.âÂ
Youâre not quite sure how to respond to that. Some extra money would be nice. Youâre a university student with all sorts of loans, so itâs not like youâve got excess cash lying around. And itâs also true that youâve been looking to apply for a new job lately, since your old manager was a total ass and you ended up quitting.Â
Still. A girlfriend-for-hire? Someone like you? Itâs just really difficult to imagine.Â
âI actually think itâd be a good experience,â Ava goes on. âYouâve never really put yourself out there before. I know everyone dates at their own pace and stuff, but you shouldnât have to be afraid. Who knows? Maybe youâll meet some cool people and want to date them for real. And even if you donât end up going for them, you still make some money, so either way, youâve got nothing to lose.â
You chuckle weakly. âYeah, I just donât know. I feel like Iâm better suited for traditional jobs. But thanks for the vote of confidence. Iâm glad you think people would actually be willing to pay to date me.âÂ
âGirl, you seriously need to believe in yourself more,â Ava sighs. âIâm telling you, youâre a catch. But at the end of the day, itâs your call. You shouldnât force yourself into anything if you feel uncomfortable.â
You smile and nod in agreement, and sensing your discomfort, Ava decides to change the topic.
But for some reason, you feel a twinge in your chest, and itâs hard to keep your mind from wandering.
Later that same day, youâre lounging on the couch, mouth agape, having just downloaded the app on your own phone.Â
âWhat the hell am I doingâŠ?âÂ
You tell yourself that itâs just simple curiosity. Yeah. Thatâs all it is. Ava piqued your interest earlier, and now you just want to scroll through in more detail to get a better sense of what kind of people use this platform.Â
The app is called âPartner For Hireâ. The name isnât particularly inspired, you have to admit, but you suppose it communicates its point rather effectively and leaves no room for ambiguity. Ultimately, this is a transactional relationship, and itâs probably for the best that clients know what to expect.Â
You can use the app as either a buyer or seller. Meaning that you can create your profile and advertise your services, or simply list yourself as a prospective client and what your hobbies and interests are. In that sense, itâs kind of similar to most dating apps, since you have to take a flattering photo to go along with whatever blurb youâre providing. Of course, just because you try to solicit someoneâs services doesnât mean thereâs any guarantee theyâll accept. This is an app where you can run everything yourself, and of course the company takes a cut of your profits, rather than an agency that matches you with a client regardless of whether you want to accept the job or not.Â
Thereâs definitely a lot of flexibility, and you can easily choose who you want to pretend to date. If someone is interested in hiring you, they submit a request to be able to contact you, and once you accept, you can message them directly and establish the terms of the dating contract, such as the length and what particular services will be provided.Â
You scroll through the list of boyfriends/girlfriends being advertised on the app, and honestly, it seems like thereâs a decent amount of money to be made. Of course, a lot of that comes with building a good reputation and improving your ratings and visibility so more people will want to hire you, but it actually seems like a decent amount of people are able to make a living off this sort of thing.Â
You bite down on your lower lip. Should you really go ahead and just do it? Like Ava said, thereâs probably not much to lose. All the transactions are managed on the app, so you can easily report people who try to skip out on paying. Clients have to link their banking and personal info, so theyâd be taking on a big risk by trying to scam people. Youâre sure it might happen from time to time, but based on the reviews youâve read, the company is really good at enforcing their policies and making sure everyone gets paid.
The money seems good, and it would definitely help take some pressure off your student loans, but ultimately, the biggest thing youâre struggling with is your moral compass.
People are willing to spend money for this kind of thing, and thatâs entirely their choice to make, so itâs not like youâre extorting them or anything. Still⊠you wonder if itâs actually okay to profit off of someone elseâs loneliness. Youâve never worked the kind of job that requires you to cater directly to another personâs emotions, and it kind of freaks you out.
But maybe Ava is right. There are all sorts of people in this world. Maybe some of them are just curious to try the app out. Maybe others just want to get their families off their back by pretending like theyâre dating someone for a little while. Thereâs no way to discern everyoneâs motivations, so perhaps thereâs really no point in thinking about it at all.Â
Most importantly, this could be a good thing for you. Life has been stagnant recently, and itâs true that you usually hesitate to put yourself out there. Youâll never learn what you do or donât like if you keep on avoiding everything. This could be a chance to learn a lot about other people, but also, to learn more about yourself.Â
Yeah. Itâs time to stop overthinking for a change and just try something new.Â
Thus, feeling unusually determined, you spend the rest of the day setting up your profile (finding nice selfies was the longest part of the whole ordeal), and with a resolved huff, you post it and officially go live on the app.Â
Youâre not really sure what you were expecting, but needless to say, there isnât any immediate feedback. It probably takes a while for people to stumble across your profile, and even then, thereâs no guarantee theyâll want to go out with you.Â
I guess I was getting worked up for no reason. Certain people might find success with this kind of thing, but itâs probably not as easy as it looks.Â
You scratch your cheek, suddenly sheepish over how needlessly excited you got earlier. Youâre not used to stepping out of your comfort zone, so you must have gotten a bit carried away.Â
For the rest of the evening, you set your phone aside and come back to reality. You get some homework done, make dinner, and by the time youâre ready for bed, youâve pretty much forgotten about the whole thing altogether.Â
That is, until you check and see that youâve missed a notification.
âHuh? Someone viewed my profile and wants to message me?â
Youâre undeniably taken aback. Not just because itâs happening a lot sooner than you expected, but also because it means that contrary to what you first thought, people are interested in you.Â
Having minimal experience when it comes to dating and romance in general, you have to admit, the thought of being viewed as desirable is immensely flattering.Â
Curious to see who wants to hire your services, you click on the userâs profile.
His name is Isaac, and heâs twenty-one years old, set to complete his undergraduate studies at the end of the year. He goes to a different university than yours, thankfully, because you canât help but feel like it would be incredibly awkward to bump into him on campus after pretending to be his girlfriend. Heâs studying to become a doctor, which means heâs still got a lot of school ahead of him, but youâve always had a lot of admiration for people who are willing to commit to their goals and work hard.Â
Also, even though you donât want to sound shallow or anything⊠heâs really, really attractive.Â
You frown. Granted, thereâs more to a person than their appearance, but based on how he comes across in his profile and what his future career is, he doesnât strike you as the type of person who would struggle to date someone.
But again, you can never know whatâs going on in a strangerâs life. And thereâs no real way to find out why he decided to join the app.
Apart from speaking to him directly, of course.Â
[đđš đČđšđź đ°đąđŹđĄ đđš đŻđąđđ° đđĄđąđŹ đźđŹđđ«âđŹ đŠđđŹđŹđđ đđŹ?]
>>[đđđ]
After a momentary delay, the screen loads into a messaging interface, allowing you to see what Isaac sent you and respond to him directly. Â
You stare at the messages without blinking, just taking it all in. So, there really are people like him out there, who use these apps for reasons other than seeking companionship. It sounds like heâs not too interested in dating for real, but his parents are putting a lot of pressure on him, so he just wants an escape. Honestly, you canât blame him for it. Your parents were overbearing for the better portion of your lifeâeven now, as an adultâso you can understand just how suffocating it gets at times.
All of a sudden, you donât feel too bad about accepting the job. It doesnât feel like exploitation in the slightest. In fact, youâd be helping someone resolve a frustration situation, while getting paid in the process. It actually sounds like it could be rather fulfilling.Â
More importantly, you decided to be more confident and try something new. You refuse to back out now.Â
You stare at the messages without blinking, just taking it all in. So, there really are people like him out there, who use these apps for reasons other than seeking companionship. It sounds like heâs not too interested in dating for real, but his parents are putting a lot of pressure on him, so he just wants an escape. Honestly, you canât blame him for it. Your parents were overbearing for the better portion of your lifeâeven now, as an adultâso you can understand just how suffocating it gets at times.Â
All of a sudden, you donât feel too bad about accepting the job. It doesnât feel like exploitation in the slightest. In fact, youâd be helping someone resolve a frustration situation, while getting paid in the process. It actually sounds like it could be rather fulfilling.Â
More importantly, you decided to be more confident and try something new. You refuse to back out now.Â
[đđđŠđ]:
Youâre admittedly a bit nervous, especially since you want to do a good job and avoid letting him down, but mostly, youâre feeling excited. All of this is uncharted territory for you, after all. Never in a million years would you have imagined taking on a job like this.Â
And you really shouldnât have.
You donât know it yet, but this will be the cause of many, many regrets.Â
Shit. Iâm starting to have second thoughts.Â
Even now, you still canât believe youâre really going through with this. After talking to Isaac and ironing out the finer details, you agreed to join him for a family gathering and pose as his girlfriend. You expected for him to have quite a few requests, but luckily, he seems pretty laid back about the whole thing. The better portion of your conversation was spent on getting your stories straight so as not to incur any suspicion, and since youâve always been a good student and a hard worker, you promptly memorized everything there was to know.Â
And now, itâs finally time to put this plan in motion.Â
âHey,â Isaac greets. â[Name], right?â
Itâs the evening, since his parents are hosting a dinner party. The event is supposed to be pretty casual, but you still dressed up semi-formal in the hopes of making a good impression. He never explicitly mentioned how strict his parents are, but since theyâve been on his case about getting a girlfriend, it never hurts to go the extra mile.Â
"Hi, Isaac,â you smile. âItâs so nice to meet you.âÂ
âYou, too,â he nods. Heâs considerably taller than you, and every bit as handsome as his picture suggested. Unless his personality is god-awful (which you probably wouldâve picked up on after messaging him for so long), youâve got a good feeling that most girls would be interested in him.
Still, everyone is different. He might have really high standards, or maybe he wants to focus on his studies, or perhaps itâs just a case of having never met the right person. Whatever the reason may be, his parents shouldnât be pressuring him to date someone, and if you have the means to help him out, youâll happily do it.Â
âYou look really nice,â Isaac says. He tilts his head to the side. âI hope you didnât feel like you had to dress up to impress anyone. The most important part is that they believe Iâm seeing someone so that they finally ease up a bit.âÂ
âOh, I just did this for my own peace of mind,â you reassure. âI made sure to memorize everything you told me in advance, so Iâm confident I can convince them that weâre the real deal. Even though this is technically my first day on the job⊠I promise not to let you down.âÂ
You blush, feeling rather flustered. The idea of being someoneâs hired girlfriend is still a lot to wrap your head around, and you certainly donât want to make empty promises, but you have every intention of giving it your best shot. Isaac is in a stressful situation, and youâre resolved to do whatever you can to fix it.Â
âCanât wait to get this over with,â Isaac sighs. He opens the passenger door and gestures for you to step inside the car. âDonât worry. I know you might be feeling a bit uneasy, but I promise Iâm not a serial killer or anything like that. I wonât hold it against you if you have 911 ready on speed dial until we get to my parentsâ house.âÂ
âI trust you,â you insist. âIâve heard good things about this app, and it sounds like they take safety seriously. Theyâve got your information in their system, after all. Plus, I can tell that youâre a nice guy. Itâs just a gut feeling.â
âI appreciate it,â he smiles. âAnyways⊠I guess Iâve stalled for long enough. You can probably tell that I really donât feel like going. But the sooner I get them off my back, the better.âÂ
âIâll be the best girlfriend you can ask for,â you beam.Â
Itâs a promise to him, but also to yourself. You are committed to taking this new job seriously, and for the rest of the evening, you will do whatever it takes to blend into the role thatâs been thrust upon you. Thereâs no reason to get worked up. At the end of the day, all of this is pretend. It wonât be anywhere near as complicated as a real relationship.
Right?
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