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journal-of-an-outlaw · 5 years

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The Price to be Paid

Hey gang!

This is my very first Tumblr fanfiction. I used to write waaaay back but it’s been awhile. Just finished my first playthrough of Red Dead Redemption 2 and of course needed to write something about my story with it.

Feel free to message me with feedback or thoughts, like I said it’s been a few years so I’ll post this to Ao3 after awhile. Please like and reblog only, no reposting.

Chapter 1

“See that one? Easy. Go nick his watch.”

You laughed and smiled over your shoulder at Abigail as you walked over towards the cart that had stopped from one of the nearby farms selling apples in the middle of town, red and bursting to be eaten. A man who was picking out which ones looked best out of the pile didn’t seem flustered by your sudden appearance which was good. It made the next part easier.

“Oof! Excuse me sir, I didn’t see you there. Are you okay? Oh, let me help wipe that off your shirt.”

Coffee bled a dark brown down the man’s white shirt as he hastily moved to grab something to stop the spread, and you were ready with your handkerchief. While he snatched it out of your hands, you removed his pocket watch without him knowing, the pressure of your hands on his torso masking the motion. The cold coffee had been sitting on the edge of the cart as if someone had forgotten it in their haste to leave for the center of town. He huffed and hawed and made a bigger fuss than you could have hoped for, but the nearby prying eyes only saw a silly girl who managed to spill coffee onto the boy buying apples.

You smiled one last time at him and batted your eyes then flounced down the street and around the alley to meet Abigail. She laughed and grabbed your shoulder while you showed her the watch; no engraving or photo slipped inside which made you relax at the fact it wasn’t overly sentimental.

“Now see, this here is exactly what you can pawn off. A good 8 dollars for this, plus whatever else you can grab adds up fast. Then maybe...a way out?” her eyes were kind as her mouth twisted into a coy smile.

You smiled back at Abigail. The past few months while she and her gang were in town you had grown close. She hadn’t divulged too much about the people she ran with and that you could understand. The world was dangerous and full of opportunities and you couldn’t judge her for the choices she had made to keep her and those she cared about safe. You had never really left the town you were raised in and your family was your ‘gang’, but their secrets would never haunt others that you choose to surround yourself with. You knew she had a man, maybe not a husband but someone she loved. And a son that she loved more than anything in the world. Although she’s never told you outright about him, you’ve seen her buy (or steal) little trinkets and toys that no grown man would want. That’s when Abigail taught you the same tricks. How to divert the attention of shop owners so your hands could dart into your pockets with stolen food, or how to nab items to pawn to build up your own funds when you bump into folks and cause a scene. You had been eyeing the mountains outside of town a lot more lately, and thinking how great of an escape you could make.

“Where would I even pawn these? Do I walk in with everything at once?” you asked her. She contemplated for a moment. “You don’t want to walk in with arm loads of stolen things, but a few here and there should be okay...maybe clerks will let you trade them for goods! Like for food or clothes and such. There’s a good pawn shop in Rhodes, but that’s a long ways from here in Blackwater.”

Your hometown, or at least the place you had been raised in, was hot, dry, and desert like most of the year. The people were kind and you liked being situated by the river. On particularly hot nights you would sneak out and sit by the slow and lazy moving water, imagining it was carrying you someplace new and far away, where no one would know you and you could start over. But you knew that idea was just that and there was no escaping. Small fantasies were all you had. Some nights you yearned for your life that began in Boston, but Blackwater was the only home you had ever known.

Abigail brought you back to the present with her hand on your arm. “Y/N, I might have to leave soon. I don’t want to but there are things I can’t change that are set in motion by the people I’m with. You’re...well I guess my friend and I wanted to let you know.” You laughed at her hesitation to call you a friend. Knowing her it isn’t an insult. If anything, she means it as a way to say she doesn’t get close to many people and has somehow chosen you.

“Abigail I appreciate you telling me, but I’ll see you again! I am not worried.” Sometimes your blind optimism got the better of you. Damn those novels that you got lost in. Few things brought you pleasure like the chapters of a book.

The two of you clasped hands and parted for the day as the sun set behind you. Slowly but surely you were building a collection of items that had been lifted off the residents of Blackwater and were going towards your future pawn trips. As much as you loved the town and its dusty, dirty humbleness there was a darkness that lived there.

You neared your house and felt your heart drop to your stomach as the parlor light flickered on meaning your mother was not home, but your father was. Dad had a mean drinking problem, and as the man in charge of some government organization had power which mixed terribly with his vanity. He wanted everyone to know that he and he alone was in charge.

Climbing up the steps quietly you hoped to sneak by. That damn fourth step gave you away, and you silently swore as your father barked for you to come back down.

“Y/N! Get down here. How dare you walk by and not say hello to your father?” You mumble an apology and kissed him on the cheek, the smugness in him as strong as the whiskey on his breath. As you turned to head to the kitchen for dinner he grabbed your elbow hard enough to make you wince. “Were you in town today,” he asked, but it was more of a statement than a question. He must have seen you, or heard about Abigail somehow. “Y-yes father, I spent the day in town. At the market, there was a wagon from a nearby farm…” you drifted off and tried to walk to the other room. Your father stood abruptly, but was distracted by your mother opening the kitchen door. She was a force of pure good and the only thing that could tame your father’s wild ways. Her face beamed and invited you both for dinner.

“How was town today, Y/N? The apples look delicious.” You mother winked at you and motioned to the three red apples sitting on the counter waiting to be baked into a pie for dessert. While in town you didn’t even notice her so she must have moved quietly. The roast chicken and potatoes were delicious and you couldn't eat fast enough. After dinner, your father went out to the back porch to smoke while your mother sat and played cards with you.

“Mother, why don’t we just leave?” you whispered. This was a conversation you had had many times in the past. “If we packed and left at midnight he couldn’t track us. We could go to the mountains, move west or even north again! A new city with no one following us and we could make a new life. Work in an art gallery or a farm or...just some place nice and safe. Where no one could hurt us.” The darting of your eyes was not missed by your mother who had never known about your father and how his rage manifested late at night. He always did have a knack for hitting you in places that no one else would ever see.

Her hand was soft as it wrapped around your own. You knew this fantasy would never happen but you always hoped someday she would finally agree.

“My dear, we musnt run away from those things that we fear. Fear only increases when we turn our backs to escape rather than face it head on.”

********************************************************

The next day in town you met up with Abigail again. You knew the time was coming for her to leave from the way she clung to you a little tighter and laughed more forced and often. It made you sad to think that this bright light in your life lately would just be gone due to...whatever it was that would drag her away. Loyalty and family all meant something to you of course. But it was still upsetting to think that this exciting time would soon be over.

“The last thing I’ll teach you as a thief is this. In order to pull off a good heist, you have to believe. With everything you have. A poor orphan left to die on the side of the road? Believe. Someone who just got robbed and needs a ride to town? Believe. Someone who isn’t being abused by a man somewhere in town? Believe.”

She stared you down hard during this last line. You flinched and moved to cover the bruise that had been exposed when you rolled your sleeves up from the heat. A soft expression met you when you looked up to her blue eyes.

“I...It’s nothing I promise.”

“And that, hon, is exactly what I was talking about. You have to believe. Make it out of this town, safe. Please. If not for me, maybe just for you.” You watery eyes meet hers and you realized that it’s obvious to everyone but you that leaving may just be your last hope to being happy. The only issue you have is leaving your mother behind with the monster that hides behind the eyes of your father. His rage wasn’t always there. Mother said as a child you lived happily in Boston just the three of you. It was supposed to be four, and that’s where the trouble began. When your brother was lost a few days after his birth your father couldn't stand it. The whiskey was his crutch, and it soon became more of a constant burden. Every day it seemed he stumbled in from work already drowning in the vile stuff. Even the thought of its scent brought you gagging now. Your mother says that’s the reason you had to leave the northern city and move to the nowhere town of Blackwater and start all over again. That drink and the havoc it caused.

While you had the time the two of you decided to celebrate. Sitting in the saloon you clinked your drinks and cheersed to seeing each other soon someday. Abigail loved hometown whiskey and your poison of choice was gin. Many drinks later and the two of you stumbled out to the main road, needing fresh air after leading the whole bar in a great rendition of a popular song. You swayed in the heat that met you outside of the doors. A huge commotion down by the water caused half the town out to come bursting out to the roads behind you. Galloping horses, screaming, and gunshots were all you could make out. Damn those drinks and whatever was in them! You couldn't see more than four feet in front of you, and everything beyond that was a big old blur.

“Y/N! We need to move. Now!” Abigail somehow sobered up and was in charge of the whole situation. “Get behind that building and pretend you don’t know me-” but her words were cut short by a man grabbing her arm and yanking her down the road.

“Abigail!! Hey! Let her go!” You chased, well, more like stumbled after, the pair and beat his arm with your fists. He released Abigail and grabbed your hands, shoving them down by your sides and forcing you to stare into his eyes.

“Now what in the hell are you doing?” You stare dumbstruck into his face thinking that you might have landed yourself right into one of your novels. Beautiful blue eyes searched your drunken face and you couldn’t even speak. His eyebrows pulled together and crows feet showed around the edges of his eyes, years of the open sun and road changing the landscape of his face. Stringing coherent thoughts together was a struggle when Abigail shoved the man. “Arthur! Let her go she’s my...she’s my friend.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows, “Abigail I have to get you back to John-”

Three men raced around the street corner on horseback and shouted in your direction. “Those three! Stop them! They’re linked with them gangs from the riverboat!”

You swung around to face Arthur and Abigail. “What have you done. Your gang! What did you do!”

Arthur swore and grabbed you by your waist. “Abigail, get on that grey horse there. The bay is mine.” She nodded and took off down the road. You cursed and swung as hard as you could but it was no use, this man had you captive as he put you on the horse and followed Abigail. The lawmen were not too far behind and you heard the bullets they fired whisk by you and hit the buildings down the street. From the back of a horse you watched the faces of people you knew zip by faster and faster, and with them the memory of who you were confined to be quickly slipped away. What a strange turn of events in the past few months. Abigail had taught you how to pickpocket and thief your way hopefully to a new life, but instead of taking that route here one was riding you off on a horse. It scared you, but you couldn't look back.

A sharp and terrible pain grabbed you suddenly as a bullet met your left side below your ribs. Screaming, you almost fell off the horse but managed to clutch onto Arthur’s shirt with weak fingers. He turned around at the noise and seemed upset as his face filled with worry when looking at the blood spilling onto your shirt. The pain proved too much and the last thing you remember was landing on a hill of grass with dust swirling all around as the sound of pounding hooves raging your ears from all directions.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #fanfic #arthur morgan #abigail roberts #john marston #reader story #reader fanfic #the price to be paid #i don't know how to name anything #arthur x reader #arthur morgan x reader #female reader

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grundalucious075-blog · 5 years

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Fragments and Sparks: My Writing Origin Story

We're gonna break tradition a little and skip some parts at the beginning.

We're gonna skip my mom meeting my dad and eventually marrying him.

We're gonna skip the miscarriage she had with his child.

We're gonna skip the day I was born, and my formative years as a smaller-than-average child who loved to tell stories, even winning first place in a local children's writing competition with my illustrated "book", Zorn the Unicorn and Meal the Seal.

Instead, we're gonna skip to late 2007, being the weird kid who always started a week later than everyone else. When small arguments between my parents started to rapidly become explosive and toxic. When my bad luck of being an easy target for bullies started to come to a climax. When I turned to physical fights and scraps to make them stop with no real success, only injuries that were no longer hidden.

When I needed escapism the most.

I was already drawing: I was drawing Kingdom Hearts fanart (RokuNami and SoRiku were my main OTPs, at the time). I soon found myself with an urge I haven't felt in nearly seven years:

I wanted to tell a story.

I wanted to tell a love story.

But I was afraid to write fanfiction. I was worried that it wouldn't be good, that the characters would be too OOC (out of character), and that everyone would hate it. Not to mention the major hurdle of the toxic lesson of "don't try something new if you think you're gonna suck at it. It's best to always try if you know you're gonna succeed in every way possible" didn't make things easy. But I still wanted to write. So what was a smol bean like myself to do?

I created my own characters: Adam and Turk.

I created my own setting: a small, fictional city in Japan.

I created my own plotlines, my own antagonist and motives, my own story flow.

Soon, a year has passed, and Adam and Turk were all I wrote about.

They were my children. My lovely, simple, gay children. By the time I was a freshman in high school, I had a small binder filled with the stories about the two I printed, a folder with the countless illustrations I made, and a whole gallery on deviantART dedicated to the two. The stories and art never really got much attention, despite the amount of groups I submitted to...in fact, not a lot of mine got noticed except for a Pokemon SoulSilver Nuzlocke story I ran in 2010-2011 (completely in text, known as a Writtenlocke).

I was a little upset, I'm not going to lie. It felt like nobody wanted amything to do with my stories, and I usually got very little to no feedback. But, I had two things that kept me going:

I met my best friend shortly after the second semester started. I was drawing a cute picture of Adam and Turk (the latter kissing the former on the cheek, whishing him a good dau at work). A cute blonde girl noticed it and, with a gasp that rivaled Pinkie Pie, said "Oh my god, you like Yaoi? I LIKE YAOI TOO! You're my best friend now!"

And just like that, I had a best friend who also liked to write. I would try to illustrate her work, and she would help me with my writing. We encouraged each other. Even to this day, long after the horrible days of high school, long after she helped me discover I was bisexual, and long after our friendship blossommed into romance that was killed by a poor descion on my part, I value that time, and I truly miss them.

The second was that I discovered how happy I was. Even with my mother's attitude becoming increasingly toxic and abusive (especially after I told her I was bisexual), I found my happiest moments spent late at night, writing, drawing, playing music, listening to YouTube videos, and chatting with friends on deviantART. I loved the feeling. It lead to an epiphany about what I wanted to do with my life: to create.

It was vague, and admittedly, not well thought out. I was never very good at picking a "sensible" career path.

My mother seemed to agree. She had different ideas in mind that I don't wanna delve into too much, so I'll just say that my current full-time employment at a bagel deli is not only less-than-ideal, but also her getting the last laugh.

We're gonna skip some more bits to save some time and feels; mainly the parts about us getting evicted from our home, my mother's abuse and manipulation coming to an intense climax, and being forced into a college and life plan I had no real say in. Not for the first nor last time, I was shattered. I lost the will to create. Adam and Turk were nothing but fleeting, rose-colored high school memories. I felt empty.

I wanted to die.

One night, I was up very late. I had classes the next morning, but I didn't care. I was idling around on an ancient laptop that my mom got for me (after literal MONTHS of begging) when an idea struck me. I wanted to write something magical. Something with adventure and fighting! Something that still had romance.

In March 2013, I started writing a series of stories that finally convinced me that I wanted to become a writer.

That series, is my beloved KoB.

I've faced a lot of hurdles that I'll discuss another time. My passion has waxed and waned as often as the moon, but writing, in some form, is still a large part of my life...and something that will always make me happy.

So now...here I am. In the dwindling hours before 2018 ends, and 2019 begins. Just looking back at it all makes me feel a certain kind of way--even with all the stuff I left out. The fact that, even though it's all been for one project, I've stuck to this stupid, silly fantasy set in the mid 2010s for over five years, is more than proof to me that this is where I belong.

This is a part of who I am.

And soon...2019 will be a part of that as well.

Happy New Year, everyone! We're all great! We all deserve love and recognition! Let's all work to make this year one of the best of our lives!

Aaaaand even if this year doesn't turn out so great, than it'll still be an important chapter in my life...and in everyone else's.

GRUNDY OUT!

#new year #2019 #2k19 #writer origin story #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing life #motivation #inspiration #grundy speaks #grundalucious075

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englishmansdcc · 7 years

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The Lakes International Comic Art Festival (LICAF), to be held next weekend in the Cumbrian town of Kendal, is suffering a crisis of faith – and a loss of a number of exhibitors – in the wake of diversity criticism, which has been lingering in the background for a number of years.

COMICS AND COLA writer Zainab Akhtar tweeted her strong feelings about the lack of diverse faces in the announced line of this weekends event, pointing out the proportion of white faces amongst the sixty-six Special Guests invited by the organisers for LIACF 2017.

“66 guests= white, white, white, with a mild sprinkle of East Asia. There’s really no excuse for any comics show to look like this anymore”, tweeted Akhtar on Saturday in response to a promotional tweet by the organisers. In response to this tweet, the @comicartfest account blocked Akhtar’s and instigated conversations with other creators, explaining that they felt that the Eisner-nominated critic had long-held grievances against the show since her attendance in 2014. (Akhtar had written on COMICS AND COLA about her experiences in Kendal where she felt the show was lacking in terms of its lineup, as well as feeling marginalised by the town’s population.)

A number of these Twitter conversations were deleted by the management of the LICAF account as tensions rose over the past couple of days, with accusations of lying about ‘opening up of dialogue’ and harassment of allies in the comics community opening up many wounds.

#gallery-0-5 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-5 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 33%; } #gallery-0-5 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-5 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

As followers of both accounts took sides on the debate over the weekend – mostly concerning the manner in which the operator of the LICAF Twitter conducted themselves in the conversation, and also the contributions to the conversation by Sharon Tait, the sister of Festival organiser Julie – a number of exhibitors have announced that they would be relinquishing their table spaces in support of improved diversity at the show.

JOHN ALLISON

“Extremely sorry to say that I will no longer be attending the Lakes Comic Festival this weekend due to their treatment of @comicsandcola.”

John Allison is, at present, still listed as a Guest on the Lakes official website.

JADE SARSON

“I will no longer be attending LICAF this coming weekend. I do not do this to upset those who have supported me in the past so kindly – I truly appreciate the relationships I have with the festival organisers and patrons. Which is why I’m doing this in solidarity […] with those whose valid criticism and feedback regarding issues of racism have been dealt with in such a disappointing manner. I do not favour defensiveness and a lack of openness the representatives have displayed. […] The comics community will only grow and improve with an open mind and willingness to listen and change. I’m not a big voice in comics, but if it can help in any way, I think this is the right thing to do. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Jade Sarson is, at present, still listed as an Exhibitor on the Lakes official website.

LYDIA WYSOCKI

“Dear LICAF organisers,

I am writing to withdraw from exhibiting at Lakes International Comic Art Festival 2017 this coming weekend. This is because I found Sunday evening’s twitter statements from your festival account and associated accounts unacceptable.

My academic work addresses themes of fairness in education, particularly the constructions of ‘race’ and social class, through the specific example of British comics. I need to do my best to ensure that my comics making, publishing, and distribution (as myself, and through my organisation Applied Comics Etc) remains consistent with these themes. This means that I cannot take part in a publicly-funded festival that has made such poor choices of language and tone when discussing issues of ethnicity and diversity.

With this in mind, I would like to offer constructive support when you plan the future of your festival. Please do let me know if my academic work on untangling and addressing issues of fairness – as well as my professional experience in staff development in higher education – is something you would like to make use of, in due course. […]”

The UK comics scene – as well as a number of international names, some of whom have attended Lakes in the past – is steadily becoming polarized by the argument, not only about the issues raised by Akhtar but also by the handling of the situation in a public forum.

https://twitter.com/GailSimone/status/917357880373899264

https://twitter.com/KellyKanayama/status/917182365801353216

https://twitter.com/housetoastonish/status/917302188938092544

https://twitter.com/Tim_Pilcher/status/917346146070286336

https://twitter.com/neillcameron/status/917302016745136128

https://twitter.com/neillcameron/status/917302762504941569

The Festival’s spokeperson, John Freeman, has issued a statement on the debate this weekend:

The Lakes International Comic Art Festival is a celebration of the comic art form in all its genres, styles and creative forms. The Festival exists to progress the comic art form, support the industry and to deliver an amazing festival experience for our visitors. We are now in our fifth year and each year we work hard to improve and build on what’s working and learn from the feedback we have received.

This year, we have been challenged over our approach to diversity, specifically race and religion. The Festival is of course concerned that such comments have been made.

We would like to reassure all our visitors and guests that we are committed and proactive in behaving fairly to all people and embrace the nine protected characteristics in the Equality Quality Act 2010 – age, disability, gender reassignment, marriage/civil partnership, pregnancy and maternity, race, religion or belief, sex and sexual orientation.

We take proactive steps each year to ensure we are representing the diversity of comics and reaching new audiences. That said, we know we can always improve and we would welcome the opportunity to talk to any comic creators or interested groups who can suggest ways we can improve further in 2018.

We are always keen to address issues raised and tackle any matters that need to be addressed.

To kickstart this process, we are considering a specific meeting as part of our planning cycle to look at diversity and equality in comics. If you would be interested in getting involved or submitting comments, please email [email protected]

The Festival deeply regrets that the wording of some comments made over the weekend on social media caused offence. Unfortunately, in the lead up to a major event, when all are running at 110% overdrive to put on the best show possible, adverse comments about the Festival’s programming choices and its founding principles of promoting comics and all comic creators, regardless of creed, colour or country, were taken badly. This does not excuse the language used, but it hopefully puts the comments into context.

We always welcome your feedback. We are a small passionate team committed to delivering an amazing festival – thank you for your support.”

This years Festival features first time Special Guests such as Sergio Aragones, Stan Sakai, Michael Cho, Chip Zdarsky, Christian Ward, Jason Latour and Jillian Tamaki as well as many returning headline guests such as Charlie Adlard, Duncan Fegredo, Sean Phillips, Steve and Luke McGarry and The Etherington Brothers. The Festival for 2017 is showcasing the Finnish Moomins characters by Tove Jannson, Stan Sakai‘s USAGI YOJIMBO, Asian creators in special Manga panels and also the launch of the first ever Sergio Aragones International Award for Excellence, to be presented on the festival launch event on Friday 13th October.

More information about the Festival can be found at the event’s Official Website, as well as on its social media channels – Facebook and Twitter.

Leeds-based comic journalist Zainab Akhtar was Eisner-nominated for Best Comics-Related Periodical/Journalism in 2017 – you can find more of her writing at COMICS AND COLA.

DISCLOSURE: The organisers of the Lakes International Comic Art Festival have generously afforded me press passes to the event for the past two years, at which I have covered the Festival for AEISD. AEISD will not be attending the Festival in 2017, due to current financial restraints.

#LICAF2017: @comicartfest exhibitors cancel in wake of @comicsandcola diversity criticism The Lakes International Comic Art Festival (LICAF), to be held next weekend in the Cumbrian town of Kendal, is suffering a crisis of faith - and a loss of a number of exhibitors - in the wake of diversity criticism, which has been lingering in the background for a number of years.

#Julie Tait #Lakes International Comic Art Festival #LICAF 2017 #Zainab Akhtar

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