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tokoyamisstuff · 2 months ago

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Divine Intervention

Alexander Anderson x f! nurse! Reader

2,9k. words | no warnings | childhood friends to lovers | mutual pining | premise inspired by the 'Angel Dust' Manga

Synopsis: Since catholicism is declining in number, priests are officially able to get married - and Anderson knows just who to ask.

A/N: This is a lil' gift for my old friend @otakutater0724. 💌 Sadly I had no fucking clue where to go with this one, so it's ill paced. But better post it than letting it rot in my drafts, right?

"A wife?!" Anderson leans back in his chair, huffing in irritation at this absurd request. "Are ya' out of yer' goddamn mind?"

Maxwell had his hands neatly folded on the table between them, slowly gliding an official Vatican paper towards his foster father. "It's merely my duty to inform you." The archbishop points towards a specific paragraph, explaining the latest reform. "Besides, this is by far not the first time that the bible has been reinterpreted."

The Judas Priest frowns as he grabs the document, face turning pensive as he read the fancy wording. Basically, it stated that servants of the lord are not only allowed, but highly encouraged to lay down their chastity vows and bring forth a new generation of catholics. Enrico assured him it was a temporary change, maybe for one or two generations, but in these trying times there wasn't another option.

At first the man was downright offended at the suggestion. Cast aside the fact that they were literally changing the Lord's gospel, was he not doing more than enough through funding a whole entire orphanage?!

But then his superior remarked something that made him see this heresy in a whole new light.

"What about...what was her name again...Y/N?"

Anderson almost choked on air at the familiar name, much to his friend's amusement. "What about her, huh?"

"Nothing!" the younger man throws his hands into the air in defense, for a change really only wanting the best for his former mentor. "But if I remember correctly, the two of you have been very close before you started your holy work, right?"

"...you really got no shame, speaking about your elders like that." In his indignation, he crumples the paper and throws it at Maxwell's direction. "I'd curse the man who raised you so terribly, but then I'd only be insulting myself."

"You're free to ignore it. After all, it's a suggestion and not an order" The archbishop shrugs, calling after the hurriedly leaving Paladin. "Just think about it, alright?"

That incorrigible fool Maxwell, how dare he to even address such a topic?!

Anderson was furious beyond belief, and if he wasn't back at the orphanage already he would've certainly itched for some blood. Rushing through the hallways, the staff keeps their heads down as he passes them, knowing it's better to avoid him in such an agitated state.

Initially he had planned to just seek refuge in the security of his room, surrounded by nothing but the - unedited - bible. Yet it seems the Lord had other plans with him, as he was given a sign...quite literally. Being as tall as he is, the priest almost hit his head at the new board hanging from the ceiling, the words 'INFIRMARY' written on them in capital letters.

Oh. Yeah, right, the orphanage now had it's own health ward. Usually the nuns were able to treat minor injuries or illnesses, but these days many children come into his care with more severe or complicated medical conditions. Was about time.

The opening was today? Shit, he completely forgot about it. This was such an important event for you, being designated to become the head nurse. He should know best, since he paid for your whole education after all.

Actually, after his earlier conversation with Maxwell left him so bewildered, he rather wanted to avoid meeting you until he calmed down - but it seems like he has no other choice.

If it's for your sake, he could swallow his concerns and just be there for you on that big day. Can't hurt to stop by and congratulate you either way. So he hastily plucked some flowers from the garden before making his way towards your new office.

As he roams the building, Anderson involuntarily starts reminiscing. Has it really been so many years already? Time sure flies.

It's still surreal to think about the fact that you both had been wanted criminals in the past. He barely remembers any of it, chose to lock those memories into some dark corner of his mind - with the exception of some pleasant ones, mostly revolving around you...his favourite little troublemaker.

The two of you were born into poverty, befriending each other through shared misery and sticking together for survival. He would keep you safe, while you took care of him. Easy as that. It may have started as some kind of arrangement, but your bond soon grew into a wonderful friendship, and eventually - unbeknownst to you both - a mutual crush on the other.

With no real perspective you joined a criminal gang early on. Anderson, with his physical advantage, became one of their most skilled assassins, while you gained your earnings as a smuggler and thief. Together you had caused a lot of mischief, to put it mildly.

But after a mission gone south your childhood friend needed to keep a low profile for a while, since the bosses thought he was the one behind the disappearance of a great amount of heroin. At first his priesthood served as a mere disguise, but he soon found solace in his faith, seeing it as a way to atone for his sins.

The plan was never to abandon you. He was thinking about you every single day, praying for your safety until he'd return. It took him more time than anticipated, mostly due to being trained fighting vampires and other evil spirits, but eventually he managed to secure an important position at the Vatican as their enhanced holy warrior.

Much to his devastation however when he finally came to take you with him, the gang was disbanded due to internal conflict and a lot of arrests. Years he spent searching for you, but all clues led to dead ends.

The last straw was when he had finally tracked down his former leader, and to spite him the man made up a story about your alleged execution years ago. Needless to say this man suffered a violent death at Anderson's hands.

Now that he thinks about it, the priest is sure that he would have never taken on his religious title if he knew you were still out there somewhere.

Yet in the end after a long time of mourning, he decided that it was for the best to fully commit to the church - he never wanted anyone besides you, after all, so there was no reason not to become celibate.

Fate played both of you dirty however, because just shortly after taking his oath, you met again by sheer coincidence. You were trying to rob him during bright daylight, acting like an all coy and helpless damsel. Typical.

You didn't recognize him at first, the timid young boy from back then having grown into a literal beast of a man...Anderson on the other hand could never forget those eyes that made his knees weak whenever you'd look at him a certain way.

When you finally connected the dots, you punched him with as much force as your emotions bestowed on you, grabbing onto the collar of his coat and spitting vile curses at him for leaving you behind just like that.

All those years spent apart and really, it felt like no time had passed at all.

Even long after the misunderstanding had been cleared, Anderson's guilty conscience never ceased. Until this day he'd apologize to you, though you repeatedly assured him you held no grudge. Quite the opposite, even.

The priest had taken you in without hesitation, helping you turn your life around and rebuild at his side. You weren't exactly fond of the church, always saying they were corrupt and that even if god exists, he had failed you. But it was certainly better than living on the streets, and as long as your dear friend was happy, you'd be damned to ridicule his faith.

Most of the nuns hated your guts nonetheless, always saying a heathen like you is a bad influence to the dedicated man, even when you were on your best behavior.

Nonetheless, Father Anderson might've decided to keep his position, but he promised himself to never turn his back on you again. If you'd let him, he'll gladly take care of you for the rest of his life.

As long as you were at his side, he was fine with how things ended up...

...at least until the latest decree, that was.

The possibility alone re-ignited a fire deep inside of him that was diminished by the illusion of your loss, never daring to light it again out of fear to relive the same pain all over again.

But the ember always preserved.

Anderson's initial anger had completely evaporated, making room for a mixture of both dread and excitement when he reached his destination. Peeking through the small glass window in the door, he sees you decorating the place, moving along to a happy song you were chanting. Sweet as always he thought, but you certainly would object. You were never really aware of the effect you had on him, after all.

A smile was tugging on the edge of his lips, allowing himself to observe you for a moment to brace him for the confrontation. You haven't aged a day in his eyes, if anything the years only made you more beautiful to him.

You only took notice of his presence when the door falls into the lock, and immediately your small smirk turns into a barely containable grin. "Without a chaperone again?" you teased and poked his chest. "How unbecoming, Father."

Jokes aside, the Abbess doesn't approve of you two being alone with each other, always saying the devil is the third person in the room. Their precious, sophisticated paladin associating with a savage nobody like you was heresy enough in her eyes, as well as everyone else of the higher-ups.

If only they knew you were literally hanging around in his room on the regular, even sleeping in his bed from time to time, they'd certainly get a stroke...

Not that they were wrong, you did have a habit of persuading him into having some fun for a change. Nothing indecent, really, just harmless pranks to make special memories for the children for example. Like that one time you decorated the entire courtyard for Halloween and emptied their offertory to buy sweets for the orphans.

You would surely be punished again if anyone gets wind of this...

"Alex?" He winced a little hearing his old nickname, never insisting that you called him by his official title. The priest felt his heart threaten to break out of his chest, experiencing a kind of fear he lacked to feel even while fighting literal monsters.

A moment passed without any answer. The man was rooted on spot, staring at you with a bashful expression you knew very well from your younger days. It was always so easy making him flustered, your sweet innocent Alex.

"Darlin', are you alright?" You look up to the much taller man, putting a hand on his cheek which instantly sends a blush up his neck. His face is already bright red as he gently squeezes your shoulders, determination present in his emerald eyes as he blurts out "...marry me."

"Wha-" Stumbling back, you almost hit the desk behind if it wasn't for him wrapping one arm around your waist. "Excuse me?!"

Anderson pins you with a stern expression, taking ahold of your wrist and letting his thumb run across your knuckles. "Ye' heard me just right."

"Did you have too much sacramental wine again?" You raise an eyebrow at him while wriggling out of his hold, but you were effectively trapped between his body and the furniture. "Don't worry, I assure ye' I'm sober." But truth be told, at the same time he never felt so intoxicated in his entire life.

You had a clue what he was implying, the nuns have been talking about nothing else those past few hours. The elders were shocked, to say the least, wanting to stick to the old ways, while the younger ones were absolutely thrilled, already making plans.

But Anderson, a devout and literal saint who was so dead set on his religious ways...for him to even consider something like that was just too absurd to be true.

Maybe you're just dreaming you conclude, pinching yourself, yet that action only made him chuckle with that damn raspy voice of his. You felt embarassed and at the same time too baffled to even react properly, let alone form a verbal response. But he doesn't seem to mind, gifting you a lovestruck expression as he holds your hands into his much taller ones.

"God has granted me this second chance" he murmurs, leading the back of your hand to his lips. "I won't be wasting it this time...if you'll have me, I mean."

"Why-" you let out a shaky breath, the dam you've built so carefully around your feelings for this man giving in way too easily. You had promised yourself to never dare of hoping again, but even after all those years he still held your heart with ease. "I don't understand...why would you of all people want to marry?"

"I...to be honest, I was doting on you ever since we were teenagers" he admits, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. The confession left his heart like a burdening weight, no matter what your answer might be.

Your eyes widened in shock, feeling so many things at once - mostly regret for all those wasted years you could've spent together. He was first to speak again, though, tone as woeful as your heart felt. "I shouldn't have given up on you...Y/N, I'm so sorry."

"C'mon, now don't be all gloomy..." You tried to brighten the mood, squeezing his hands as you mirror his nervous smile. "We've been over this so many times. You weren't at fault."

"Actually, I was..." That statement made you gasp in disbelief, and he suddenly pressed your head against his chest, unable to bear the look in your eyes. "It was really me who stole the heroin from the boss back then."

He feels you claw the fabric of his shirt, only imagining what you must feel right now, but his embrace is relentless. "That was a reckless idea" you grid, feeling anger and betrayal burn in your guts. "Even for your standards."

Anderson chuckled to cover up his hurt. "But I did it for you. For us." His head rests atop of yours now, and you feel him shake ever so slightly. "I never told you how I felt because you deserved so much better than what I had to offer. I wanted to sell the drugs, and with the money we could've built a life somewhere far away...as you said, I should've known better. Wishful thinking, maybe."

"...you're unbelievable." You eventually push him away so he'd look at you, his heart sinking as he detects tears streaming down your cheeks. There were times when you slept under bridges, only having each other to hold on to keep you warm. How did he even get the idea that you needed anything besides him at your side?

"Tell me to leave and that I'll do" he announces calmly, his gaze full of sheer adoration. But you won't have any of this, not again, not anymore. "Oh, don't you dare. As if I'd ever let you leave again after knowing this!"

You fiercely grab the collar of his robe, no resistance in his stance as you pull him in for a kiss. Anderson is taken by surprise, yet dwells in the feeling of finally closing the distance between you he only had himself to blame for.

Looking at you right now, you seemed so unusual shy and giddy, face hiding nuzzled against his chest as you tried containing your joy. Adorable.

"Then it's decided?" He sounds both relieved and anxious, but you instantly plant another, more tender kiss to his jaw. "Of course, you blockhead!" And yet you snivel, unable to let go off of a last ounce of distrust and past hurt. "Please, Alex...you have no idea how long I've loved you...don't leave."

"Never again. I swear." He swallowed harshly at the impact of your words, cursing his own foolishness. "I may not be worth the wait, but I'll promise to make it up to you every single day."

There was no time to lose, not a single second he wanted to waste after leaving decades of longing behind the two of you.

So only a few days later the two of you found yourselves in front of the altar, being married by the archbishop himself in a small ceremony. His words were accompanied by the breaking dawn, a symbol of hope as the raising sun banished away the darkness of the night.

"Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers a multitude of sins (1 Peter 4:8)" Maxwell spoke, a self-satisfied smile playing on his lips at the thought of having been matchmaker for the two of you. "My congratulations, you may now kiss the bride."

A ray of sunlight hit the tinted glass of the church window, engulfing your white dress in a variety of colors. Anderson lifted your veil, this most divine sight making him whisper a grateful prayer to the lord for providing him with this greatest bliss. One sole tear of happiness escapes his eye before claiming your lips with a fervor unlike anything either of you ever felt, ensuring you that all the obstacles were always meant to lead you to this day.

Whatever laid behind you, now you'd await a brighter future together.

"And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. (1 Corinthians 13:13)"

#hellsing #hellsing ultimate #alexander anderson #alexander anderson x reader #reader insert #writing #fanfiction #drabble

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bigfrozenfan-fanfics · 9 months ago

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Chapter 77 - Mari's burden

Links: Chapter overview, Character list, Map, Glossar Rating: M over all Publishing cycle: around every 2-3 weeks

Remarks: all my chapters contain carefully selected music tracks (try to use headphones). It’s your own decision if you want to use them or not while reading. The purpose is to musically support the respective mood of the plot. If you can please use a browser for reading (not the Tumblr app) due to the text formatting and music.

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While Elin was still sleeping soundly in her new cot, holding her doll close to her, Halima and Mattias set off for the orphanage. They had told her the previous evening that they would both be out of the house for about two hours in the morning and then go to school together. At least if Elin finally agreed. But the little girl was overjoyed with her new room and had hugged them both tightly after looking around and curiously touching many of the things here.

As usual, a few children were playing outside the orphanage when the general entered with his fiancée, who was hitched to him, and headed straight for the matron's office. Liv was sitting at her desk, engrossed in reading some documents.

Mattias cleared his throat discreetly after they had both stood there waiting for a few seconds. Liv raised her head and smiled at them.

“Hello, Halima … General Mattias. I wasn't expecting you two today and thought you might be coming to story time with Elin on Friday.”

“Hello, Liv,” Halima began, “We're here because there's news—,” “—and we want to sign the adoption documents,” Mattias continued. “Good morning, Liv.”

Liv looked a little surprised at first, but then smiled again, this time beaming with joy.

“I knew you'd love the little one from the start, but please have a seat.” Liv made an inviting gesture to the two chairs in front of her table. “I'm so glad that you want to adopt her now and, as I've already heard in town, you've become very good new parents for her and Elin feels very comfortable with you.”

“Yes, indeed she does. Even in the bakery, people ask me about her from time to time and what nice things I'm planning to do with her that day. Mr. Oddvar is always happy to see her when she comes to his library with Olaf.”

Then Halima began to talk about everything she had already discussed with Mattias and that they were going to visit the school with her today.

“Oh, I'm sure she'll feel very comfortable there soon, you two shouldn't worry about that. But I hope the first impression today will make Elin curious and she'll agree,” Liv replied.

“We hope so too, but we think this step is simply necessary now and we both, Destin and I, have to work during the day,” Halima explained. “Once she's settled in and maybe even made some new friends, things will be a lot easier for all of us.”

Liv nodded, “That's true, especially after you two get married. Has the date been set yet?”

Halima and Mattias looked at each other and he took her hand. “Next year, Liv, after the queen's official wedding. Maybe a week or so after that. We'll see … won't you, darling?”

“I wish you the best of luck! Now, shall we all get down to business and sign the document?”

~~~

When they both returned to Halima's house, Elin was already awake, sitting outside on the steps to the open front door and taking a hearty bite of a large apple.

“Hello, Elin, here we are again,” Halima called, waving, and the little girl immediately got up to run towards her.

“And we have very good news, Elin,” Mattias added as Halima hugged her, waving a sheet of parchment in front of her.

Elin looked up. “What is it?”

“We became your new parents this morning when we signed the adoption contract at Liv's earlier,” Mattias replied, “and it's official, little one!”

Halima knelt down in front of Elin and looked her lovingly in the eyes. “Hello, my dear and clever daughter, you can finally call us Mama and Papa!”

Elin's face lit up and Halima gave her a kiss on the cheek. When Mattias knelt down and stroked her hair tenderly, the girl hugged them both.

“I'm so happy…” She looked them both lovingly in the eyes in turn. “… Mama and Papa!”

~~~

On the way to the harbour, Elin ate the rest of the apple and looked at her mother, wondering what she should do with the rest. She didn't dare just throw the apple core on the street, because the little girl hadn't missed the fact that the whole town was always so clean and, apart from horse manure, there was never anything lying around.

“Give me that, Elin, we can throw the rest of the apple in the grass over there, I'm sure it will rot very quickly. But you took good care, I'm proud of you,” said Halima.

“Who actually cleans up everything that the horses drop?” asked Elin as she placed the core house in her open hand.

“There are people whose job it is to keep everything in the city clean,” she replied. “Every morning, these people drive through the streets with a cart and collect these horse apples. That's what the previous king and queen decided back then.”

“Horses … apples?” Elin asked in astonishment.

“Agnarr ordered that back then, Halima?” asked Mattias afterwards.

“The horses' manure is called that, my dear Elin. By the way, even I sometimes collect it from the street as fertiliser for my cold frames in the garden,” she replied, leaning down to Elin with a smile, then turned to Mattias, “I think that was more Queen Iduna's decision, Destin. ”

They both nodded thoughtfully.

Then they reached the junction to the school and could already hear the laughter of the children playing on the small arched bridge, trying to catch a fish with a thin rope and a hook. They didn't pay any attention to Elin, they were so busy, but Elin watched the children playing all the more. She looked at them curiously as they walked past until they entered the classroom.

The teacher was sitting at her desk in front of a large blackboard on the wall behind her and there were low tables with a chair in front of them all around the room. On each one were a few books, sheets of paper and writing utensils. On the walls were colourful drawings and various other illustrations. Elin looked around curiously and leafed through one of these books while her parents went to the teacher and spoke to her.

“Elin, will you come here? The teacher would like to meet you,” Halima called out after a while.

Elin closed the book and walked slowly to the front. She and the teacher, who was still quite young and pretty too, as Elin thought, looked at each other curiously until the girl stopped in front of the table.

“Hello, Elin, I'm Mrs Halverson and I'm the teacher at this school,” she greeted and Elin returned a somewhat shy 'hello'.

Mrs Halverson smiled and said, “You don't need to be afraid, Elin. Your adoptive parents told me you came from the orphanage and would like to go to school? Well, I'm very happy about that and I'm sure the other children will be too, when they have a new playmate and can learn together with her. At the moment there's a break before lessons start, but of course you don't have to decide straight away. Or you could just sit over there by the window and listen to everything. Well, what do you think?”

Elin didn't say anything back and instead looked up questioningly at Halima, who put a hand on her shoulder encouragingly. “Answer the teacher yourself, Elin.”

“Well … I'm curious, but I'd like my parents to stay there too. Is that possible?”

“Well, normally parents aren't allowed to be here during lessons, Elin. Hmm … Could you leave us alone for a few minutes? You can go outside and watch the other children while we talk, yes?”

Elin nodded and strolled towards the entrance.

When she was gone, Mrs Halverson asked about her background, her age and whether she could read and write. Halima and Mattias took it in turns to tell her everything in brief, as they didn't want to keep the little girl waiting too long. Besides, the lesson would start in a quarter of an hour. Mrs Halverson was moved by Elin's story and promised to take good care of her if she became her new pupil.

Halima then brought the girl back and teacher Halverson suggested that she should sit at the last table by the window. From there, she would certainly get a better impression of everything if she simply pretended to be part of the class. Mrs Halverson would explain it to the students and was very curious to see everyone's reactions.

When Elin had taken her seat, Halima and Mattias stood next to her for a moment before they were about to leave.

“Elin, we'll stay close by and have a coffee at Oakens near the harbour. Afterwards, we'll pick you up again in an hour or so, all right? You really don't need to be afraid if you're here on your own for a while. I'm sure it will be very interesting and you don't have to take part in the lessons yourself yet, just watch and listen,” said Halima

“But you have to promise me one thing, my little girl,” Mattias added and laughed. “Try to have fun!”

Elin nodded several times, said “I will!” and waved to them as they disappeared through the entrance. Shortly afterwards, a bell rang somewhere and one by one many children poured in. They all eyed the new pupil curiously before sitting down at their desks after greeting the teacher and opening the chapter in their books announced by Mrs Halverson. Elin also had one on her table and followed the example of the others.

And so began Elin's first trial school day.

~~~

Kristoff enjoyed the voyage on the Draba, especially looking after Sven, who was a little nervous about taking a long sea voyage on rough seas for the first time. Kristoff wondered what Anna was doing right now, and he bet that with winter approaching and the annual events in Arendelle at this time of year, she might be planning the upcoming competitions in the capital. He thought back to his ice carving competition with Anna and Elsa, and then a brilliant idea suddenly came to his mind as he remembered his conversation with Anna under the old willow tree before they unleashed their deepest passion.

She had told him what King Agnarr did to propose to his loved girl, Iduna, presenting her with a self-carved love spoon. Kristoff was a little sad because he had missed the opportunity to do the same for Anna because of the emergency wedding a few days ago. It was a little late, of course, but as a special gift it would still make Anna very happy; he thought, so better late than never. He could carve it now, here on the ship, right now!

He grinned. All he needed now was a piece of wood and that was certainly available from one of the carpenters here on the ship. He had his jackknife in his boot and two days at sea should be enough to make the spoon. Actually, twice as many days, because the return journey was still ahead of him; he corrected himself.

“Sven, I'm just going below deck to see one of the carpenters. I've just had a great idea for a present for Anna. I'll be right back.”

Sven looked after him and then put his head back on his front legs to continue dozing.

The carpenter was a little taken aback by Kristoff's desire, but he couldn't refuse His Highness such a request. So he sawed off a suitably large piece from one of the spare beams intended for the mizzen boom and handed it to Kristoff.

Back on deck, Kristoff visualised the shape and immediately began to carve the first rough outlines on the wood. Not so easy when you've never done anything like this before; he mused, but he was confident and preferred to work slowly and accurately.

Kristoff was so focussed on his work that he didn't even notice the tip of his tongue playing at the corner of his mouth, causing one of the sailors walking past to grin broadly.

~~~

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At the same time, on an Arendelle road …

Elsa, Anna and Mari were sitting in a royal carriage on the way to the royal Summerhus, where the two sisters had spent many summers with their parents when they were young. It was Anna who had made the suggestion and Elsa had enthusiastically agreed. Mari was to be one of the few people outside the royal family ever to be invited there today and she was very honoured accordingly.

“We've never picked mushrooms there before, but if my memory serves me right, the woods there were full of them,” Anna said, explaining her choice of picking location.

“Yes, I think you're right. Mama and Papa have certainly collected mushrooms there too, I'm almost sure of it,” said Elsa, trying to remember how they used to play explorers with Anna in the big forest, at some point convinced they were lost and then climbed a tree to find their bearings. In the end, they saw their parents sitting in the grass of a large meadow just a stone's throw away, having a picnic. Elsa had to giggle as she recalled this scene.

“What are you laughing about?” asked Anna, “I want to be able to laugh with you.”

Elsa told her and Anna grinned. “Oh yes, it was funny how surprised we were back then, thinking we'd never find our way back.”

“I was afraid that our parents would be angry with us if they had to look for us.”

“Maybe even in the middle of the night,” Anna imagined and Elsa nodded.

Mari hadn't said much so far and the sisters realised this almost simultaneously. They both looked at her, who was looking out of the carriage window opposite them, but her gaze revealed that she wasn't looking at the passing scenery, but seemed to be somewhere else entirely, thinking about something that was perturbing her a lot.

“Are you all right, Mari? You look so … I don't know … almost scared?” Anna asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

Mari's head jerked to the side and she looked clearly caught off guard.

Now Elsa was worried too. “You do have something, Mari,” she said with her eyebrows furrowed and leant forward a little. “It's plain to see.”

Mari looked at them both in turn and then sighed, “Yes, it's true. I'm actually very worried and even very terrified about it.”

“What is it that worries you so much?” Elsa asked curiously and Anna added, “Is there anything we can do to help?”

“I don't think so and that really annoys me, because I'm probably all alone with this problem and no one is able to help me out of it. A miracle would have to happen!”

“So now you've really unsettled us both. Do you want to talk about it or at least hint at what it's all about?” Elsa asked with a worried undertone and gently placed a hand on Mari's knee opposite her.

She looked at her seriously, determined to help in whatever way she could, because Mari was a good friend to both of them. Anna in particular was very close to her, who now had an equally serious expression on her face and, listening attentively, waited for Mari's explanation.

“All right … I'll tell you, but please take this seriously, because that's what it is for me and it really isn't a joke.” Mari had to swallow before she continued with quivering lips. “Father wants me to…,” she had to pause for a moment because her emotions were starting to boil up again. She took a deep breath and then spilled the beans. “Father wants to marry me off … to some prince or other profitable suitor.”

“Wait, what?” Anna blurted out, completely taken aback, and Elsa's mouth fell open.

“Yes, it's true. As princess, I am the heir to the throne and therefore obliged to act for the good of the kingdom and … its profit,” she spat out the last word, “to take a prince from another kingdom as my husband. Father is firmly convinced that Vesterland needs a male heir to the throne after me. And I … shall bear him.”

The sisters were too perplexed and shocked to answer immediately. Instead, they could only stare at Mari.

“Does she really have to, Elsa?” Anna asked, looking helplessly at her sister.

“I don't know, Anna, I'd say other kingdoms, other rules … maybe.”

“But that's so unfair,” said Anna, shaking her head in a tone of conviction.

“Yes, exactly, I think so too, Anna! Just because Father thinks he can decide that just like that … without any warning. We're not living in the days of the founding fathers, are we?” Mari replied, a tear rolling down her cheek.

Anna immediately sat down next to her, gave her a comforting hug and looked over at Elsa. “There just has to be a solution, doesn't there, sis?”

“Who does your father have in mind? Which prince from which kingdom?” Elsa asked instead.

“I don't know his name and I don't know what he looks like. All I know is that it's probably a powerful kingdom and he's one of thirteen heirs,” Mari replied.

The sisters froze and Mari could feel it clearly in Anna's suddenly tense hand on her shoulder. Mari looked at her shocked face.

“What…?” she asked.

“The southern isles … a Westergaard!” Anna then blurted out. “Oh my God!”

Elsa's features had hardened at Mari's revelation and she pinched her lips together until they were just a line.

“We will seek and find a solution, Mari, be sure! Having a Westergaard prince in the immediate vicinity of Arendelle as the new king of Vesterland is simply unacceptable! We have a say in that too,” said Elsa quietly, but with deep conviction.

“If it's Hans, then even more so …,” Anna murmured quietly with her head bowed.

“Hans? You know one of them, Anna?” Mari asked in astonishment, wiping a tear from her face.

“Oh yes, Mari, we both know him. Four and a half years ago, he wanted to kill us and take the throne of Arendelle by himself!” Elsa replied angrily.

“He almost succeeded,” added Anna.

“Hans was thrown into the brig of the next ship after his failed coup and banished from Arendelle. Since then, we have severed all trade relations with the southern isles. Perhaps I should have let him freeze into a block of ice back then …”

“But then there would have been war, sis. No matter what he tried to do to us,” Anna replied and Elsa nodded.

Mari had looked open-mouthed at both of them in turn and was more than just amazed at how much the sisters had to say about it and what a terrible experience they'd had.

“You can't trust a Westergaard, Mari, and we'll do everything in our power to convince your father and put a little pressure on him if necessary. But either way, I hope there is another way to convince King Jonas not to inflict such a fate on you. I'll look into it and investigate as soon as we get back to the castle tonight. I promise, Mari!”

“And I'll help you with that, Elsa,” Anna said firmly, planting a fist in her side.

“Thank you both. But now tell me what happened back then. I want to know everything!” said Mari and grabbed the sisters' hands.

~~~

As promised, Mattias and Halima picked Elin up from school an hour later.

“So, how was the class, little girl? Did you like it?” asked Mattias, after taking one of Elin's hands and Halima's other to walk the girl home between them.

“Yes, it was very interesting and I had a lot of fun. The other children have … homework from Miss Halverson and they have to draw a picture at home until next time.”

“Oh, that makes me very happy, Elin,” Halima said with a smile and gave Mattias a meaningful sideways glance. “What kind of picture do you want it to be?”

“How we imagine the future. I also got a note for you from the teacher,” Elin replied, briefly letting go of her new dad's hand and pulling a folded piece of paper out of the sleeve of her dress to give to Halima. She then took Mattia's hand again and smiled. “I want you to get me some things.”

“Wait, does that mean you've decided to go to school now?” he asked in amazement.

“Yes, I think so. The other children have been friendly to me too and some around me have even whispered curious questions to me during lessons about who I am and stuff.”

Halima smiled broadly and Mattias nodded in approval. “See, I told you, it's all half as bad. I'm happy for you.”

“And so am I,” Halima added and they both felt the girl's handshake increase in wordless acknowledgement, while Elin again made little leaps of joy between them.

~~~

Once everyone was home, they explained to the girl that they both had to work now, but would be back in the late afternoon. At least Halima would. Mattias reckoned it would be a longer day, but promised to be back for dinner at the latest.

Elin had no problem with this and hurried to her room to start on the mentioned painting straight away.

Halima and Mattias briefly discussed who would get the school supplies on the note and then they said goodbye with a kiss and a happy hug over Elin's decision.

While Halima made a small diversions to run errands before starting her workday at Hudson's Hearth, Mattias headed to the castle. Today he wanted to organise the arrests of the three war criminals. He hoped that they had not yet suspected anything and that the witness was safe, as Fabian had assured him.

They'll make eyes at him, he thought to himself as he crossed the castle bridge.

Shortly afterwards, Captain Einar was briefed and three teams of guards were formed to arrest all three simultaneously if possible. One of them was to find out the whereabouts of each of them unnoticed before they struck.

It ended up being easier than expected, as all three war criminals were sitting together in a tavern having lunch.

~~~

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“What do you mean it's going to be cramped in the dungeon now?” Mattias asked the captain after his comment. “Surely there's enough room for three people, even if not too much.”

“Four, General, we've already had a suspect in there for five days who is under interrogation on suspicion of aiding and abetting treason.”

“Another one? Why don't I know anything about this? Who is it?”

Einar explained to him and also that unfortunately nothing could be proven against him so far. “I want to soften him up and put him under pressure,” he added. “I have strong doubts about his excuses so far and he's very cunning in proclaiming his innocence.”

“I see,” Mattias mused. “Perhaps that will help when Monrad's brother Albert realises what company he suddenly finds himself in in the small cell. An innocent man would protest and want out immediately. But if he is guilty and the accusations against him are correct, then perhaps he will chat, because he is likely to feel quite uncomfortable in the presence of three soldiers of the Crown. They are facing trial and have nothing to lose now. For their loyalty to the royal house, the three of them even walked over a dead body by executing the enemy in the most brutal manner.”

“Perhaps the guard who brings Albert his food every day should drop a note to that effect,” mused Einar.

“Excellent idea and definitely worth a try, Captain Einar. That's how we do it.”

~~~

“Lunch, prisoner!” said one of the two guards to Monrad's brother after the other had loudly unlocked the door to the cell and was now holding it wide open for him.

He placed the tray next to the prisoner on the cot and Albert once again wrinkled his nose at the sight. The food wasn't bad, but it was very simple and lovelessly prepared. He knew Olina's cooking skills from his visits during the wine delivery and the tasting by Kai. But the dish on the tray had definitely been prepared by someone else and was not at all to Albert's discerning palate.

“You'll have high-ranking company today, Albert, and you'll have to make some room, because there are three soldiers of the crown and even a veteran officer among them,” the guard remarked, grinning mischievously.

“What are they being accused of?” Albert asked, seemingly calmly and with an inconspicuous expression on his face, but a slight panic rose up inside him. Was this a dirty trick by Einar? For the life of him, Albert couldn't imagine why these three and an officer among them would end up with him in the dungeon.

“What are they accused of? Phew … they're here for a war crime. They allegedly brutally tortured an enemy at the Misty Pass and then hung him from a tree until he was dead. They're not to be trifled with if that's true, that's for sure. You'd better eat up quickly, because they're about to be brought down.”

The guard made room for a third guard, who manoeuvred another cot in, then loudly slammed it on the floor and kicked it against the wall before leaving the cell again with an annoyed look on his face. Albert swallowed and could only stare in bewilderment.

“Have fun,” the guard said with a grin as he walked out and slammed the door behind him.

He was now alone again, but he had lost his appetite after this announcement. If this guy told the three new arrivals that he was here on suspicion of aiding and abetting treason, then his worries were justified. The colour slowly drained from his face.

~~~

Kristoff's stomach rebelled when, unexpectedly for him, the Draba ran into rapidly increasing, heavy swells near the dark sea. The ship swayed and plunged in and out of wave troughs at steep angles. Spray splashed over the railing, submerging the entire deck in a matter of seconds. It wasn't a real thunderstorm, but the wind and the whipped-up waves were still strong enough to frighten an inexperienced passenger.

The sailors had their hands full lashing the equipment to the deck, adjusting the rigging to the weather conditions and holding on tight so that they weren't washed overboard. It was enough to make you sick just watching.

Normally Kristoff had no problems travelling by ship, but this was a voyage on the high seas and in notoriously treacherous waters. Sven was just as bad, if not worse, than Kristoff felt at the moment, as he could clearly see. He had stowed his carving under his gakti and was now helping Sven to his feet. Then he called for help to get the reindeer to safety below deck. He couldn't do it alone and twice it threw them both off their feet.

“You shouldn't have waited so long to go below deck, Your Highness. The weather can change extremely quickly on the high seas,” said a sailor who rushed to help and now called for more sailors. Sven vomited with a heart-rending, wailing sound and Kristoff unfortunately couldn't do much to help him. It literally tore at his heart to see Sven like this. Kristoff therefore wrapped his arms around the reindeer's neck and tried to calm him down somehow.

Luckily for Kristoff and Sven, the companionway below deck was only a few steps away and after a few minutes of joint effort, five of them got Sven down to safety.

Of course, the ups and downs were just as noticeable below deck, only here you didn't get a constant shower of salt water. Nevertheless, the water dripped and sloshed in near the stairs. In contrast to the massive figure of the reindeer, Kristoff could at least climb into a hammock, which made the rocking a little more comfortable. However, Sven slid back and forth on the planks with every violent movement of the ship and of course couldn't hold on to anything like a human, and it was just as impossible for him to climb into one of those hanging mats. But Kristoff wouldn't be Kristoff if he cared more about his friend than himself.

So he got some ropes from the end of the sleeping deck as quickly as possible and secured Sven as best he could. He then lay down next to him and talked him through it.

Sven looked at him pitifully but also gratefully, because Kristoff wasn't leaving him alone right now.

Kristoff hoped it would all be over soon and his whole body shivered from the cold of the icy water that had soaked him on the unprotected deck. He grabbed a couple of blankets from two hammocks nearby, rubbed Sven dry as best he could and then undressed himself to wrap himself in the dry, warm fabric. Kristoff was used to the cold in the mountains, especially when harvesting ice, but icy cold water that seemed to penetrate to the bone was new to him and made his teeth chatter.

~~~

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The sisters hadn't been back to their parents' Summerhus for what felt like an eternity. Too much had happened in recent years and they hadn't had time to look after it and reminisce about old memories. At least a trusted person from the nearby small village came around a few times a month, kept the house clean and tidy and stoked the stove in winter so that everything didn't freeze. There was also always a forester nearby who acted as a guard and regularly patrolled the neighbourhood.

While Elsa and Anna recounted their tiresome experiences with one of the Westergaards royals to Mari, who was very curious for good reason, the carriage bumped along winding forest paths, not far from the capital, past tall conifers and increasingly mountain spruce as the terrain became higher. The unmistakable scent of scattered cedars wafted in through the window and Elsa remembered very well that her mother loved that smell as she inhaled deeply and smiled.

At some point they passed through a tiny village, drove past a small, traditionally built stave church onto the market square and shortly afterwards over bumpy cobblestones that wound their way up to the Summerhus. The coachman drove in a semi-circle up to the entrance and shouted a loud “Brr” as a command for the horses to stop. They gave a grateful snort as the carriage came to a halt.

“We're here,” Elsa announced, still smiling.

“Here again at last,” Anna added, “after so many years.” She looked cheerfully at her sister and Elsa nodded knowingly.

They heard the coachman jump off the trestle, then the sound of him folding down the side steps and finally he opened the door for his royal passengers to alight.

“Our honoured guest first, please,” Elsa said to Mari and pointed outside with an inviting gesture.

Mari nodded curtly and got out first.

The sight was not quite what she had expected, for the Summerhus was a log cabin built entirely of sturdy wooden beams, with bright red decorations and a roof completely covered in sod, leaving only the brick chimney protruding.

All around stood squat spruce trees and in front of the entrance was a mown meadow where they now stood. But the fact that this was the royal summer residence was unmistakable. The front door was adorned with a relief of Arendelle's emblem and the crocus symbol was emblazoned on a wooden semicircle directly above it. The Summerhus looked very cosy and rustic with its mullioned windows and the flower boxes in front of it. Mari couldn't help but smile.

“I like your Summerhus,” she said as the sisters stood next to her and the coachman audibly closed the door behind them. “It looks so …”

“… cosy?” Anna added with a grin and Mari nodded.

“Yes, it does indeed. It's a lovely refuge.”

“Well, let's go inside and make ourselves comfortable before we go into the forest to collect,” said Elsa, who was already holding the front door key in her hands.

At that moment, an elderly man came out of the forest, who turned out to be the forester who regularly passed by the house.

He greeted everyone in a friendly manner and gave the sisters a brief report of what had happened so far. But there was nothing serious to report, because apart from a few animals sneaking around the house in search of food, only two travellers had passed by a few weeks ago and peered curiously through the windows. However, he kindly asked them to move on. After his report, he said goodbye again and disappeared into the forest.

Elsa unlocked the entrance and pushed the heavy door inwards. When she touched it, another memory immediately flashed through Elsa's mind: when she and Anna were little, they always had to push this thick door open in pairs because it was too heavy for one girl alone. She paused for a moment and felt Anna's hand on her shoulder. Elsa looked at her smiling face.

“I've just remembered that too, Elsa. There are a lot of memories waiting for us in there.”

Inside, everything was dark and only the light from the entrance illuminated the living room with its central table. The sisters first opened the windows to fold the shutters outwards and let in a little more light. Elsa then lit the oil lamps and Anna took care of the large fireplace. There was still plenty of wood and so it only took a few minutes for her to get the fire going. A cosy warmth immediately spread through the cold room and it instantly became more comfortable.

Everything looked just as the sisters remembered it, nothing seemed to be missing or had been rearranged. It was as if they had left the house only yesterday and just as clean, only many, many years had passed. They looked at each other meaningfully and while Mari looked around curiously, Elsa and Anna did what they always did first back then. They each lit a candle by the fire and hurried upstairs to their child's room under the gable.

Here, too, everything was just as they had left it. With a tiny difference. Their two favourite dolls, which were usually in the little toy chest next to Elsa's bed, were now lying on the pillows of their beds. They both put their candles in the holders on the little table next to them and lifted their dolls up.

“Oh, Elsa, if only Mama and Papa were here now,” Anna said quietly and tears began to gather in her eyes as she held her stuffed double to her chest.

Elsa went to her and took her in her arms.

“I miss her so much too, Anna,” she said softly in her ear and the image of the figure from the shipwreck stole into her mind, but she immediately suppressed it with narrowed eyes and focussed on her younger sister's feelings again.

“I remember that time so well and somehow it feels like Mama is downstairs in the kitchen right now, making tea for us and about to call upstairs 'Tea's ready, are you two coming?'. She tried to imitate Iduna's voice and Elsa laughed softly.

“Yes, that's right … that's exactly what she used to call out, just like that.”

Then Anna could no longer hold back and she sobbed unrestrainedly into Elsa's shoulder. Her body shook and Elsa held her a little tighter, stroked her hair and whispered, “It's all right, Anna, it's all right. Let it all out … just let go.”

~~~

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In the meantime, Mari looked at the oil paintings on the wall, which depicted some of Anna's and Elsa's ancestors, and occasionally picked up a beautiful gem from the shelf to take a closer look. A handsome collection of valuable plates were lined up on a high shelf and a handful of violins hung ready to play in holders on the wall. Books and family games were stacked in the corners. Mari could well imagine how the sisters had played together with their parents at this table when they were children and were happy.

Mari suddenly realised what a great favour the sisters had done her with this invitation, what great trust they had placed in her to share these highly personal memories with her. She wondered who had played these instruments on the wall for them and guessed their father. A very personal insight into the life of a king! She looked around again. Everything here radiated love! The love of the regents of Arendelle for their children, who presumably left their duties behind for several weeks a year just to spend time together with their daughters, completely undisturbed. Here in this lovingly furnished house, which served only one purpose … to be together as a family.

“Well, this is what it looks like in our cosy Summerhus. Living room, kitchen and two bedrooms upstairs. Nothing special really, but every square centimeter here is full of memories, Mari,” Elsa explained behind her as she returned quietly and unnoticed.

Mari flinched a little, startled, and let out a sharp cry when the large grandfather clock suddenly struck loudly.

“Oh my goodness!” Mari exclaimed with one hand pressed to her heart and Elsa giggled.

“Sorry, I should have warned you. But strange, someone from the cleaning staff must have wound it up regularly. That wasn't their job at all, I don't think.”

“That's all right, I should have guessed, after all, you can't miss the clock. Is Anna still upstairs? I heard a staircase creak earlier.”

“No, she's in the kitchen preparing tea for us, I'm sure she'll be here soon.”

What Elsa didn't tell her was that her sister also wanted to clean her face because she had been crying and didn't want Mari to see it. Elsa fetched cups and saucers and a warmer from the shelf and prepared the table.

Two minutes later, Anna came in with a teapot and a small kettle, which she hung on a hook by the fireplace and swivelled over the flames. She then placed the pot on the warmer and sat down. The room was now cosy and warm and she leaned back comfortably on the high, upholstered chair.

“It's so nice and quiet and cosy here. I can well imagine how you can hear the birds chirping here in summer when the windows are open. A place to relax, to get away from the daily hustle and bustle and worries,” Mari realised and also sat down at the table.

“And the summer meadow behind the trees in the clearing is lovely when the weather is nice, ideal for a picnic on the grass, with all the wildflowers and even a field of sunflowers further down,” Anna enthused.

”Her favourite flower,” Elsa added with a grin as she also sat down and Anna nodded thoughtfully.

“Can't wait to go outside later and pick mushrooms in our adventure forest. I've found a few baskets in the kitchen and have already prepared them for us with three small knives and some cloths,” said Anna, smiling in anticipation and crossing her arms behind her head.

Anna behaved almost as if she was still young and looking forward to reliving the old days, Elsa mused with a small smile. But Elsa allowed her these thoughts and also to completely forget for a day that she was now the Queen of Arendelle. Anna deserved to have some fun and feel young again.

“But first, let's have a nice cup of tea. Then in the afternoon we can warm up here again and maybe even play one of the old board games,” Elsa suggested, casting a sideways glance into one of the corners of the room with its many games.

“I'd rather just chat with you two,” Mari replied, “now that I have a lot of time for you and no one will miss me for the next few days.”

“You're right, Mari. Let's not waste the day playing games and instead share our thoughts, that's more important now,” Elsa said and fetched the kettle to pour the tea.

Anna looked at Mari and nodded in understanding. Just chatting to each other didn't have to mean that they couldn't have fun together.

~~~

They set off about an hour later. Elsa put a few wood logs on the fire and Anna fetched the baskets from the kitchen.

They walked northwards to where the forest was thicker and simply followed their noses. As they walked comfortably side by side in no great hurry, soaking up the smells of the forest and listening to the birds twittering in the treetops above them, they told each other stories and their experiences over the last few months since Mari's last visit to the city. But they all kept their eyes open and looked behind every large tree on their way so as not to miss any edible mushrooms. Anna was the first to spot a promising patch near a clearing ahead and quickly ran to it, eventually shouting back that she had found lots of mushrooms. Elsa and Mari followed her and then spread out among the trees around this small clearing. Everyone was now fully occupied with collecting and it didn't take very long before everyone had an almost full basket. Afterwards, they made their way back to the Summerhus.

“I'm already looking forward to Olina's mushroom soup tonight,” said Anna, licking her lips in anticipation.

“But there are far too many for the three of us,” said Elsa, “you should take a basket full home with you, Mari, and treat your father to something tasty too. I can well imagine that he doesn't come to pick mushrooms himself or think about sending someone else out to do it. I'm sure he'll be delighted with your find, and who knows, maybe it'll be a good opportunity to talk to him in peace about your future as you imagine it. I hope that we will have found a solution for you by then and that he will at least seriously reconsider his plans for you.”

Mari looked very sceptical, but replied, “I hope so.”

~~~

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Remark: I hope you have enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a comment if you liked the story, I would be pleased to read your opinions, even criticisms. If you want to be tagged as soon I publish the next chapter please let me know, except you are already tagged :-)

Tagging: @true--north @annaofthenorthernlights @dronning-formynder05

#frozen #frozen2 #frozen3 #fanfic #epic novel #the broken bridge #chapter 77 #bigfrozenfan #Youtube

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linkemon · 1 year ago

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Nakajima Atsushi x Reader (selfship)

Selfship made for Patimiet on Wattpad.

Friendly reminder that English is not my first languge. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here.

◎ You've liked the boy since he first came to the Agency. You worked in the documentation department and didn't have a special skill. Your little brother owned superpowers and he got you the job but he died a few years ago. He did not die at the hands of the enemy, he was killed by an incurable disease. You remember him with a sad smile but you've mostly recovered from his loss. Atsushi reminds you of him in many ways, which is why you immediately liked him.

◎ You were particularly impressed when he shielded the bomb with his body during a simulated assault on the Agency. When he officially started working, you went to introduce yourself and you have to admit that he was absolutely terrible at paperwork. You offered to help him by spending the afternoon with him.

◎ Nakajima liked you very quickly and started looking for you during his breaks from work. Compared to Dazai and Kunikida, you were much calmer. You used to defend the boy, especially when Doppo had a whole list of complaints.

◎ The boy has bad days. Mostly because of self-esteem issues. You try to subtly praise him here and there from time to time. One time when he failed a mission, you showed up with tea and rice. Seeing his favorite dish, he cried. You hugged him very tight.

◎ You convinced Atsushi to change his hairstyle. He didn't want to spend money on a barber, so you cut him after hours. The crooked hair from the orphanage is gone.

◎ He often comes to you for advice. Especially when you don't know how to get to work. You search for old cases similar to the current ones to help him.

◎ As an ungifted person, you were not normally targeted by enemies of the agency. You lived in an apartment downstairs and tried to be careful, but not overly so. But when you were seen with the tiger, it was decided that you would be well taken care of. The Port Mafia kidnapped you. Nakajima and Dazai came to your aid. Fortunately, nothing happened to you but Atsushi blamed himself for this for a long time. He stopped talking to you or going out with you, afraid that his presence would threaten you. Only Osamu talked him out of it.

◎ Your relationship has grown a lot since then. This motivated the boy to become stronger and gain control over his power to be able to protect you if needed.

◎ One time, before going out on the streets of Yokohama in winter, he almost forgot his scarf. You ran over to put it on him, scolding him. He replied with: okay, mom. It was meant to come off as a funny remark but after the words left his mouth, he realized what it sounded like. Of course, Dazai, present at the agency at the time, did not let him live. He even suggested that since he feels like his father, you should commit double suicide together. Among Atsushi's apologies, you assured the boy that nothing had happened. On the contrary, you were glad that he sees you so positively. Especially after what he had been through in the orphanage.

◎ The boy realized quite late that the Agency people were secretly wondering if you and Osamu could really be a couple. He was worried if it was because of him and if it bothered you. However, it turned out that it had been going on since before he was here. He still hasn't gotten to the bottom of why you two would actually be a couple. Dazai flirts with you like most women and you basically don't care.

◎ Nakajima never asked about your brother on his own. He's heard a bit from members of the Agency but he preferred to wait until you started talking about him yourself. One time you took him with you to your hometown to meet your relatives. Then you showed him his grave. He bought his favorite flowers, which made you very emotional.

◎ You often take him shopping in Yokohama's shopping district. He can be reluctant to spend money, so you usually buy him things. Then he buys something for you in return and it goes on and on until your savings run to zero. But you always leave change, especially for pancakes, since Kyoka joined you.

◎ You take great care of each other. Sometimes you feel like he's all the more grown up because of his fighting skills but usually sooner or later he'll say something that reminds you that while he's been through a lot, he's still a kid at heart.

#bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #atsushi nakajima #atsushi nakajima x reader #atsushi x reader #nakajima x reader #bsd #dazai osamu

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mariacallous · 2 years ago

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A common feature at cemeteries outside many midsize Russian cities and towns is a separate necropolis of headstones bearing the names of (mostly) young men who perished sometime between 1991 and 2000. They died during the chaos that followed the collapse of the Soviet Union—victims of crime and violence, mainly, but also of disease, alcoholism, and drug abuse. While these graveyards and the wave of death they represent are the subject of morbid fascination for the rest of the world, in Russia itself they are reminders of an era of national disgrace and humiliation, which Russian President Vladimir Putin has condemned on many occasions. The idea that Putin pulled Russia out of that era is one of his most consistent political campaign messages; his official website, kremlin.ru, contains dozens of derogatory remarks about the chaotic 1990s in Russia. They regularly feature in his state of the union speeches, annual press conferences, and interviews.

Putin’s assumption of power on Dec. 31, 1999, bookended a decade which indeed contained many elements of collapsing statehood. Amid general destitution and growing inequality, criminal anarchy, shootouts between rival gangs, and revenge bombings were a regular occurrence. Life expectancy for Russian men rapidly sank. These and other factors, including mass emigration, contributed to a period of unprecedented demographic decline: Each year between 1994 and 2008, Russia’s population decreased by several hundred thousand people, reaching the nadir of almost 1 million in 2000, Putin first full year in power.

Today, there are fresh graveyard lots across Russia, some covering an area as large as several football fields. Instead of a few kitschy mausoleums, there are dozens and often hundreds of fresh mounds of earth with simple, identical crosses bearing men’s names. Their years of death are the same: 2022 and 2023. Some of them were born in 2000 or later, in the early years of Putin’s reign. The fatality numbers are astonishing: By even the most conservative estimates, in a single year of its invasion of Ukraine, Russia has already lost more men than in the 10-year Soviet-Afghan War and First Chechen War—combined.

The preponderance of death made visible at the country’s cemeteries isn’t the only way Russia is returning to the 1990s. Today’s Russians once again struggle with growing violence, economic instability, and a flood of mentally and physically broken veterans. They once again face a failed war, broken society, and national humiliation. For a leader whose signature claim to power has been the banishment of 1990s-era chaos in Russia—for which the loss of political freedom, in his supporters’ eyes, was a small price to pay—the return of the 1990s could well become a threat to his rule.

Some of the deaths on display at graveyards across Russia won’t be mourned by many people. Those recruited by the Wagner Group from prisons where they were serving sentences for anything from minor narcotics-related offenses to the most depraved murders are seen as politically irrelevant and thus expendable. Most of them have already been written off by society: young men from very poor or broken families, driven to low-key drug dealing and petty theft to sponsor an addiction, or orphans brutalized by Russia’s system of orphanages and foster care.

Those soldiers who have managed to return home alive—and their families—aren’t faring much better. Already, Russian authorities are struggling to take care of at least 750,000 veterans who have served in Ukraine, according to a leaked document from a charity led by a relative of Putin. This number, too, tops the total for Moscow’s most catastrophic and humiliating military defeats of the past 40 years: the Afghan campaign and the First Chechen War. In both, Soviet and then Russian armies were met with fierce resistance from locals who did not want to be conquered, and civilians bore the brunt of brutal retributions. Before the atrocities perpetrated by Russian soldiers in Bucha, Ukraine, there was the mass murder of civilians in Samashki, Chechnya, in 1995. Before that, there were many massacres committed by Soviet troops in Afghanistan. The Kremlin deployed around 600,000 soldiers to the two wars, and many of those who returned were physically and spiritually broken, conditioned to extreme violence, and prone to bouts of depression and suicide. Some found no place for themselves in civilian society and joined one of the many numerous organized crime groups of the early 1990s.

A similar wave is already bubbling up in Russia today. Every day, there are reports about Ukraine veterans engaged in violence—randomly attacking passersby, stabbing their wife to death in a drunken frenzy in front of their children, or other crimes. Others didn’t need a war to be introduced to wanton criminality: Some of Wagner’s most notorious outlaws, convicted for murders and mutilations of incomprehensible cruelty, have been released back into society as the promised reward for shooting Ukrainians, and a few have almost immediately gone on new killing rampages. Just like in the 1990s, there seems to be no plan for any psychological support for soldiers returning from an active war zone. Just like back then, they are mostly left to their own devices. A flood of firearms allegedly being smuggled from Ukraine back to Russia by returning troops isn’t helping to curb outbursts of spontaneous violence.

Many of the contract soldiers and the recently mobilized who perished in Ukraine were fathers and their family’s sole breadwinners, whose sudden, tragic disappearance leaves a gaping hole in the fabric of society. As the 1990s aptly demonstrated, the decline doesn’t stop with the deceased; as families are torn apart, the war’s wounds already transcend generations. Just like social, demographic, and economic decline begot each other in the 1990s, today’s Russian economy suffers, too, as its most active subjects perish en masse due to the war and its attendant socioeconomic factors. Male life expectancy has taken a hit, and the instability discourages childbirth.

Russian men of the generation currently being wiped out in Ukraine were born at the bottom of the previous demographic dip, when Russia’s fertility rate was at its lowest in many decades. Less than one year before the invasion, the demographers at the Russian Economic Development Ministry were already predicting the loss of more than 1.7 million people over four years. Today, the situation looks even grimmer. While Russian officials downplay it as merely “concerning,” independent demographers call it a “catastrophe,” predicting a return next year to a low in the fertility rate not seen since World War II.

Even before the invasion, Russia’s atrocious handling of the COVID-19 pandemic guaranteed that pandemic-era mortality already surpassed the worst demographic dip of the 1990s—the era of chaos instrumentalized by Putin to justify his rule. Add the devastating effects of the war, and Russia is already looking worse than the “wild” decade in many key areas. Except the 1990s, so consistently demonized by Putin, were also a time of great hope and political freedom unseen by many generations before. The Russian State Duma was a place of genuine political debate. A variety of national media mercilessly attacked the government and exposed the horrors of Russia’s wars; there was an explosion of uncensored art. All of these positive sides of the 1990s would be incomprehensible to an 18-year-old coming of age around 2020—when most civil liberties were already wiped out—just to be drafted into the army and killed in Ukraine in 2022.

This is one of many of Putin’s broken promises to Russians. Gone is the social contract between the Kremlin and Russia’s emerging middle class, which traded political participation for social and economic “stability.” Time and time again, Putin invoked the excesses of the 1990s and promised to lead Russians to a better future; instead, he is dragging them toward an unprecedented decline. His newest promise is to “return” Russia’s “historic lands”—but there are simply fewer and fewer Russians to populate them. And fresh grave lots keep growing by the day.

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leylaxkaplan · 2 years ago

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have you seen LEYLA KAPLAN around the crash site? we’re trying to make sure they’re still alive after the crash! according to the manifesto SHE is a 30 year old CIS WOMAN. i hear they’re known being a PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR (independent). LEYLA is also known to be TENACIOUS yet also SUSPICIOUS at times. we have a couple questions for LEYLA when we find HER, we heard something about a secret they might have? such as SHE’S BEEN LIVING IN THE USA UNDER FALSIFIED DOCUMENTS!

basics.

full name: leyla kaplan

gender & pronouns: cis woman, she/her

age & dob: 30 years old / december 17th, 1970

birthplace: istanbul, türkiye

orientation: bisexual

occupation: private investigator

face claim: melisa pamuk

character study.

alignment: true neutral

personality type: istp-a

temperament: choleric

zodiac: sagittarius

history.

If her birth parents ever particularly cared for her, Leyla doesn't know. She has no memory of them at all, her early life spent in the halls of a cold orphanage. A runaway by the age of eight, most of her adolescence was spent on the streets of Istanbul along with the other unwanted children. It was a rough childhood, but it taught Leyla survival, something that would suit her well as she grew.

Being quick, observant and clever made for opportunity; what started out as simple tail jobs, a little spy in all but name for some jealous lover or greedy rival, blossomed into what would eventually become Leyla's career. She had a knack for it, that ability to squeeze herself in exactly where she wasn't wanted, even against the odds of those that did not want to be found. It was good money — or good enough, at least, to no longer live on the street. While an official job title was never taken, those who had information they wanted ferreted out would often find themselves standing at Leyla's door.

It was at the age of twenty-five that the brunette turned her attention abroad. While Türkiye had always been her home, Istanbul seemed more of a cage than a welcome, the memories attached to the city bittersweet. It had taken years to accrue the money for relocation, official immigration or VISA application was out of the question for an orphan girl with no real documents to confirm her existence. But her line of work had put her into contacts with a less than upstanding side of the city, including a forger capable of creating documentation that could get her into the United States — at a hefty cost. It was one Leyla agreed to pay, though, setting her sights on the California coast as her site of a fresh beginning.

It was a rough go at the beginning, but Leyla was no stranger to survival by the skin of her teeth. Putting the skills she had learnt in Istanbul to use, she slowly began to build a new life for herself, eventually even obtaining a small office space for official inquiries. The apartment she rented was shitty and small, but it was hers, and more importantly, it felt like home. It was a life she was proud of, until the day it was suddenly ripped away through her fingers.

present day.

It was her job ultimately that drew Leyla onto the fateful Flight 78. A wealthy spouse, intent on proving her husband's infidelity, certain his business trip to Sydney was actually a cover to go meet his lover had hired her services. Leyla was meant to follow him there — being on the same flight was a matter of convenience, that there would be no time for him to slip away at the airport gates — and collect proof of his cheating liaisons in order for her client to use in the inevitable divorce. If only she'd known the ramifications of what taking that job would be.

skills.

Though it has been some time since her days on the streets of Istanbul, Leyla has not forgotten what it felt like to have an empty belly. She knows how to ration supplies, is not too proud to eat what others would turn their nose up to. There's a wariness to her nature that never fully trusts, always sleeps with one eye open, and is well-versed with lack of typical comforts. At her core, she is a survivalist first.

#&. 𝐋𝐄𝐘𝐋𝐀 𝐊𝐀𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍 > INTRODUCTION #syfy.intro

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slightlyconceited · 2 years ago

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“Slightly, who cuts whistles out of the trees and dances ecstatically to his own tunes. Slightly is the most conceited of the boys. He thinks he remembers the days before he was lost...”

( x )

Name: Sylvester Darling Nicknames: Sly -> Slightly Age: 23 Birthday: January 11, 2001 Height: 5′11″ Sexuality: Bisexual Occupation: Composer / musician

Slightly once had a family. His parents died when he was too young to properly remember them, but growing up in the orphanage he always liked to think that he remembered them—and knowing that he’d once had them was almost enough. What memories he did have were probably mere figments of his imagination, but as long as he believed in them, they were real…and it made many of the other kids jealous that he knew so much, which was a great bonus.

In truth, he doesn’t know half as much as claims to, just in general. Back in the orphanage, he was always coming in last in grades on schoolwork, even when he would sneak and copy answers off the other boys. He considered himself lucky to have escaped with Peter before they could ever force him into the public school system (or subject the public schools to him) but that would change when the Darling family moved to the island.

Wendy and her brothers John and Michael were assimilated into the group as easily as if they were the missing pieces they had always been waiting for, and they were especially what Slightly had been waiting for: a family with parents that were willing to adopt a stray child. The lost boys are his brothers first and foremost, but having real parents (not the play-pretend of Wendy and Peter as mom and dad) was an opportunity impossible to deny. Of course, they put him into school, which he struggled through, being held back a few grades, until he was old enough to drop out despite Mr. and Mrs. Darling’s protests.

Slightly is far from being the brightest bulb in the box, and he’s well aware of that, so he tries to make up for his short-comings by simply pretending to know everything he doesn’t know. Honestly? It gets him by pretty well. Most people don’t tend to challenge those who agree with them, so as long as he concurs with the prevailing wisdom of the moment, he’s golden. Unfortunately, he’s also often too quick to get the first word in that his opinion on a matter seems to change as soon as he’s contradicted.

The only thing he’s ever really been good at is music; he’s been playing any makeshift instrument he could get his hands on since he was young and carved his first wooden whistle while unsupervised at the orphanage. (No, he wasn’t supposed to have that knife, don’t worry about it.) Finding real instruments to try out was a lot easier after he was adopted. Percussion, strings, woodwinds, he’ll try anything he can get his hands on.

He composes and performs his own music locally, and is hopeful that his deal with Couffaine Records will get his career off the ground, because without even a high school degree he’s honestly not qualified or fit for much else (beyond settling down and being somebody’s trophy husband—that’s always on the table.) He wrote the lyrics to some of his songs, but the strongest ones have always come from his partnership with Cubby. Cubby has always been the poet, so his words and Slightly’s melodies combined make for the best music.

Since they were too young and short-sighted to steal their official documents before running away, Slightly doesn’t actually know what’s on his original birth certificate. He knows his first name, because that’s what the orphan wranglers called him—Sylvester—which was too much of a mouthful for any of the kids, so they just called him Sly and eventually Slightly. But damned if he remembers his parents’ name. He’s a Darling now. (No take-backs!)

Another of his closest friends outside of Peter, the lost boys, and the Darlings is of course Tink, who he also grew up alongside in the orphanage until she was adopted. She’s always been protective over the boys, but as the only girl in the group for the longest time, they also had reason to be protective over her. She was more of a sister than anything else. Slightly still likes to think he’s Tink’s favorite lost boy despite his generally being nobody’s favorite.

Though he’s realistically far from the best role model a boy could have, Slightly has worshipped Peter Pan his whole life and finds it impossible to tell him no. He would go along with every hare-brained scheme and adventure Peter wants to have, even if they have to break the rules along the way. He almost fears as much as respects him, never wanting to disappoint him.

Despite being generally full of bravado and conceit, Slightly is secretly pretty insecure about his obvious imperfections and much of his seeming unfounded confidence is really an unconscious defense mechanism.

“It’s not a cry for help / It’s just a cry for connection / And I’d trade my life and health to make people pay attention”

#intro #bio

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tommarvoloriddlesdiary · 2 years ago

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It’s not that Harry hadn’t understood Tom’s desire to rule the world someday, somehow. It’s just that…well, he hadn’t.

Harry knew one thing: Tom worked harder than anyone else. Even if Hermione sometimes shook her head in disbelief, Harry would insist. It was a fact he refused to shake.

He had watched Tom’s every step: picked him up from the orphanage during summers, sat with him in magical and muggle libraries alike, and saw him cast spell after spell to prepare for every practical, every test. And when Hogwarts was over and done, Harry watched how Tom climbed the political ladders, smooth-talked the right people, made the best connections, and cared for worthy causes. Tom didn’t just get handed the Minister’s desk; he earned it.

And sitting in Tom’s office, behind this desk, waiting for the Minister—waiting for his husband—leaning his forearms on the smooth glossy wood top and letting his fingertips trail official documents too silky soft to be made of any standard old parchment…Harry could maybe see the appeal. He could finally understand the why.

There was a kind of rush sitting here, the type that only spurred from certain knowledge and a level of instilled confidence that most probably didn’t have, weren’t taught, weren’t born with, or didn’t need. That giddy feeling like he was suddenly unstoppable. And it came with a package deal, the desk, the office, the title and all.

But Tom was someone with plenty of confidence and certainty in his knowledge. Harry would definitely describe him as someone naturally unstoppable as well. So was the shine of everything just a facade? Did it hide a type of reassurance, maybe?

Tom seemingly didn’t need something like reassurance, but coming from nothing surely had its impact. So even if he had all those qualities in spades, all the shine and extra little things—parts to a whole picture that made up the idealised vision Tom had of power—maybe they gave Tom the proof he needed more than anyone else.

And if that were the case, Harry would just have to continue to strive to support Tom no matter what. Show him he didn’t require all of this, hadn’t had it all this time, and wouldn’t need it later.

Harry continued to admire the room and desk in a newfound light, lost in his thoughts. The feeling of the office wards parting like liquid, a waterfall of severing magic, brought him out of his musing.

He called out, lilting, “I’ve been waiting, you know.”

“Long?” Tom’s voice trickled in from the other side of the slightly ajar door. After all, one couldn’t just apparate directly into the Minister’s office. There was a floo room for the reception of guests and where Tom’s assistant would eventually make base.

“Hmm, no. Not very.” Harry rested his head on his palms and watched Tom enter the office. His eye sought Tom’s playful smirk immediately.

“Really?” Tom scoffed. And it was music to Harry’s ears. “Odd, considering you look oh so comfortable.”

“Well, I figured I’d make myself at home. Merlin knows you’ll be living out of this office soon enough.“ He spun and pointed to a random wall, “I’m thinking of requesting a bed in that corner. What do you think?” Harry asked teasingly, pleased to hear Tom’s soft, breathy laughter, catching the tail end of Tom’s shaking head as he turned back around. The slow kind filled with fondness.

Harry personally thought it would be a great place for a bed, considering the beautiful window with a magical view of anywhere they picked on the wall just across from it. Ah, well. One could dream.

Or… Harry grinned. “So, do you have enough time to christen the office, Mister Minister?”

Tom paused, stopping just in front of his desk. “No…” He said, yet took Harry’s hand and brought it to his lips, placing a warm drawn-out kiss on the back of his palm. “But for you? I’ll make plenty.”

#tomarry #tomarrymort #pov: harry #my fic #not me writing two fics today #what is happening #i've lost control

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fanfictimebutkindaweird · 2 years ago

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Suguru Shimura’s Daughter

i might mixed Shimura’s name and surname and there might be grammatical mistakes etc alright here we go :3

I love you, what an amazing sentence to describe your feelings..

It can solve even the hardest things between anyone but not anymore for them.

Shimura and Hina met at a party that was organized by a idol company named as Kaiyo Production. to introduce their finest models to the Yotsuba Company’s head leaders. It was love at the first sight, as they started talking things eventually became more intimate. Dating her was like heaven to him, she was a gorgeous looking woman with a kind heart. At least that what he thought at first, not knowing her true colors. By the time passes everything changed one day with the news of her pregnancy. Things went from beautiful to ugly in a short amount of time. They started arguing almost everyday until their little girl was born. Hina definitely didn’t wanted her, but Shimura felt something different. He wanted this little helpless being to have a chance and feel loved, but he was so afraid that he wouldn’t be able to do it by himself. The only thing he gave her was a name. “Shimura Ayumi”. Quarreling, they decided to give her to an orphanage. After abounding the kid, they also stopped talking, even though Shimura tried to call her multiple times about their child. It was like the love between them never happened, and gave a fruit. Shimura gave a few tries to see his Ayumi often, but as his job got busier, he gave up. Now officially little Ayumi had no one to hold on to…

It was a beautiful spring day; all the trees started blooming, flowers beautifying the ground, birds singing from every corner.. Shimura was deeply in thoughts while sitting on his chair, looking out from his open window. It’s been almost 8 years since Ayumi was born and he hasn’t seen her ever since. He wondered, how she is now? Maybe someone adopted her? Was she happy? He looked at his calendar, it showed 5th of May. 5th of… May..? Why did that sounded so familiar? His eyes widened as he got up quickly from his seat, almost falling to the ground. It was her birthday. How on earth he forgot his own child’s birth date?? Then a pain kicked in to his chest. For all these years, he didn’t even visited her for once, missed almost all her birthdays, didn’t called… How could he do this? Shimura sat back to his chair, with sorrow in his eyes. What would make him different from his own father? Who left them when he was very young, and never heard from him again. His eyes looked around in his office, his mind now falling back to his childhood memories. As he was buried in grief, the door knocked. He was shaken for a moment, then quickly answered. “ C-come in!” he said, as the door opened. One of his employees came in with a documents. “Sorry to bother you Sir, but I was here to give you my last works before I take a time off for a week.” Shimura looked at him. “ Oh right… Well sure let me give a look at them.” While he was checking if everything was made correctly, his worker asked him “Sir, are you staying for a night shift again?” Shimura, who was still looking at the papers “No. Why did you ask?” “U-uh I just thought because it’s almost 7pm Sir..” Shimura stopped. The work was about to finish, this meant that he could go..and.. maybe if he can get to orphanage on time… he can see.. Ayumi! Realizing that he took a brief look at the papers then gave them back to his employee, while trying to pick his stuff fastly and put them to his work case. “Sir, is everything alright?” his assistant asked in a worried tone, as Shimura answered “Yes yes, everything is fine and so is your work I just-Nevermind, go take a break with your family. Im going home.” while leaving his room. Walking fast, he rushes to his car. When did it close? Is guests allowed at this hour? He turned the engine on then started driving.

After getting a small teddy bear from a market he started driving through the traffic, he was getting stressed. If this continues he’ll never be able to go there at time. Wait.. Which orphanage he was going to..? Oh no.. He started to panic. He even forgot where he gave her. Sweating, he kept turning his head to left and right to see if the crowd was moving, but his eyes were able to catch a familiar view. Behind the car next to him, he saw a huge old building. On the top of it wrote the words “Himawari Minashigo-in”. His lips read it quietly, trying to make sure if it’s the right orphanage. Something inside him kept saying to go there, but he was very unsure. At the end he decided to trust his instincts and went to the way towards its entrance. He parked to its front and got in after a security check. Walking to the door, he saw many kids playing with their friends at the yard, some teens were sitting on the banks and watching them. He took a deep breath, then got in to the auld structure.

The inlet he saw seemed empty, there was no one at the secretary table next to him, a few seats were replaced resting on a wall right in front of him, two hallways with stairs were on his left and right, the low light that the lamp on the ceiling was giving, small paintings on the walls... “Hello?.. Is anyone there?” he said while looking around. He sat to the old couches and started to wait. Was it the right place? If it is, will Ayumi remember him? Would she like the plushie? Finally someone’s shadow was seen from the right hallway. As the person got closer, their height started to shrink. The low light hit their face, as they turned out to be a little girl with short blonde hair and amber like eyes, who wore a pink dress with a bow, held her toy cat tightly. They looked at each other for a minute. Shimura saw her skinny figure as if she wasn’t fed for years, scratches and buries on her knees. She noticed him examining her, she held her old toy even tighter which looked like it hasn’t been washed for eternity. “Hello..” Shimura gave small smile. The little girl didn’t say anything, only looking at him with eyes that had fear and interest in them. “Uhh.. What’s your name little one?” He tried again, hoping she would speak this time but he was wrong. As he was about to say something that else he was cut off by a woman. “ Oh there you are! Dont ever run away like that you little- Huh we have a guest? Why, hello! Welcome! I am the owner of this orphanage, Chiyo Akari! Are you here to foster a child?” Her voice went from angry to happy in a second. Shimura got up, gave a unsure look and said “ Well, I was looking for my daughter. Its her birthday today so I brought her a gift-“ He was interrupted once again “Oh really? Its little Ayumi’s birthday too! What a coincidence! Haha!” She held the little girls shoulders, trying to give a fake smile. Shimura froze. This frail girl was his.. daughter?!

Chapter 2 is on the way folks :3 hope you enjoyed

#yotsuba group #yotsuba group x reader #suguru shimura #suguru shimura x reader #death note x y/n #death note x you #death note fanfiction #death note fluff #death note x reader #death note #reiji namikawa #arayoshi hatori #masaomi kida #eiichi takahashi #takeshi ooi #shingo mido #kyosuke higuchi

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timextoxhajima · 4 years ago

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Love Me A Little Less: Chapter 6 - Misogynist

LOVE ME A LITTLE LESS CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Member: (3rd person pov) arranged marriage au with Lee Juyeon

Genre: angsty wangsty

Taglist: @hyunjaethereal @sunwoowuvbot

“Don’t offend me.”

“No, I think the best course of action for HERA & ARTEMIS is that we not only branch out to collaborate with other companies, but also to make um… say, connections with non-profit organisations. Orphanages, charities, you name it. The publicity HERA & ARTEMIS will get after being recognised as a community-caring brand, a brand that cares no less than it’s maximum ability to about children, the elderly and the disabled.”

“Charitable. I like it,” The Resources CEO of The Board nods with a wine of champagne in his glass. even at her own wedding, all the bride can think of is work. All she cares about is how to make sure HERA & ARTEMIS is heard in the crowd of attendees to her wedding. “Anyway, a gorgeous wedding, I must say. What made you have it at home? I’d expect that your father and brother would have wanted it somewhere more… ravish, y’know, more extravagant.”

It takes some effort to hide her disgust at the thought that her father had a say over where she wanted to have her wedding.

“Of course not,” The service smile almost feels surgically implanted into her face, even Jang Won herself is put off. “Juyeon and I have already planned this right off the bat, have it at Hera’s Manor.”

“Why not at the Lee House? I thought the Lee’s would’ve preferred it there, you know, husband and all.”

Jang Won could’ve slapped the glass of champagne out of his grasp if she wanted to, then probably break the bowl off the stem and send it into his eye.

Misogynist.

“We—”

“The Lee House doesn’t have the facility and resources to hold a wedding now,” Juyeon comes round with a cup of whiskey, cheeks slightly pink from the alcohol as he rounds his arm around Jang Won, pulling her into his torso and even bothering to press a kiss into her temple. “It isn’t as presentable as you’d expect it to be. Hera’s Manor is well-kept and it looks like it’s prepped for a party every other day.”

Juyeon smiles politely, eyes drifting from the Resources CEO to Jang Won, and for a split second, Jang Won might just feel somewhat impressed he stood up for her. “You know what they say, if you need something done, a lady will do it fast and efficient.”

The Resources CEO provides the newly wedded couple an awkward smile, not really able to spit out a proper response to Juyeon’s rebuttal.

“Anyway, love, your brother’s asking for you in your office. Some administrative issues that cropped up,” Juyeon pulls away and turns his body, feet already pointing away from the Resources CEO. “If you’ll excuse us, Mr Teuk.”

Juyeon lowers his head as a sign of respect, though he probably doesn’t mean it. He gently tugs on Jang Won and leads her out of the courtyard.

“Please tell me there aren’t any actual administrative manners Younghoon wants to talk to me about,” Jang Won seethes as she walks up the yard stairs and into the main hall.

“‘Course not,” Juyeon subtly shakes his head. “He’s having the time of his life actually, getting acquainted with the other members of The Board. Have you always been the one helping him with Artemis?”

“In his defence, I don’t let him handle anything. It’s a subsidiary of HERA & ARTEMIS so I might as well take things into my own hands and worry about it on my own.”

“Well, maybe you should let him figure his hand out at things. He doesn’t legally own Artemis for nothing.”

Jang Won turns to shoot a look of distaste at Juyeon.

“What?” He frowns, forehead creasing. “I’m literally telling you to split your workload.”

“I don’t need to split my workload. I’m doing fine on my own and frankly, I’d rather he sit back and let me do most of it so that at least I know what the Hell’s going on with my companies without worrying about any secrets.”

Juyeon rubs the back of his neck and shoves his hands into his pockets. “In other words, you don’t trust your brother.”

“Please,” She walks off first, heading for her office where she usually seeks refuge amongst her bottles of whiskey and bourbon and documents. “Just because I love him for being my brother doesn’t mean I should trust him with my finances.”

“You’re literally born into a family of fortune. Even if he does mess up, you’d be able to recover from it. The consequences would mean absolutely nothing to you.”

Jang Won pushes the heavy doors of her office open, admiring the late-morning sun that’s spilling all over her chair and her desk.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong, pretty boy. I choose not to rely on whatever I have at birth because I always felt like whatever my dad had was just handed to him,” She reaches for the ice bucket and picks up a ball of ice, dropping it into the whiskey glass, then coats most of its surface with bourbon. “But God forsake my hard work, huh? I guess if hard work really did pay off then I wouldn’t be standing here, in a wedding-lunch dress, talking to my husband.”

Juyeon raises both brows and throws himself into one of the sofa seats, the clinking of the whiskey decanter echoing ever so slightly throughout the office. “Ever heard of a holiday? You should go on one.”

She scoffs with exaggeration, the gentle swishing of the alcohol meeting the ice and the glass gleaming like liquid honey under the sunlight. “Yes, because I’m just like you, the one who would run away from the responsibilities he was born into whenever he doesn’t want them.”

“I’m sorry,” Juyeon grimaces, standing up and allowing the silvers of his suit glimmer as he walks into where the sunlight kisses the floor. “Which toe did I step on? I just pulled you out of a situation you would’ve otherwise not wanted to be in.”

“Unfortunately for you, I didn’t need pulling out. I could’ve handled myself right there and then. It’s been like that for as long as I can remember - I don’t need myself a nanny to save me,” Cocking one of her brows, she gives a wry laugh before downing the shot of whiskey.

Juyeon is in disbelief in her ability to perceive gratitude - or rather, a lack thereof.

“Maybe your father came back to save HERA & ARTEMIS from your terrible people’s skills, ever thought of that?”

“Wrong again, pretty boy!” She peels the glass off her lips and stares at the lipstick mark. “I’m perfect with the people I wanna be perfect with to get what I want, and when they are of no use to me, I’m well aware I treat them less than average.”

“There it is,” He sneers, stopping right before her as she finishes the last bit of her whiskey. “So, you’re a hypocrite.”

A smirk draws across her lips. Jang Won almost slams the glass back down in the tray of other glasses and the whiskey decanter. “And I’m proud of it. There’s nothing you can do about it, Lee Juyeon. You agreed to play this game my way and now that we’re wearing matching rings. I’m afraid you’ll have to deal with it.”

Jang Won squares up and jabs a finger into his shoulder. But Juyeon catches her wrist and holds it in place, causing her to grunt and attempt to writhe her way out, but to no avail.

“Kim Jang Won, you listen to me and you listen well. Just because I agreed to play this game by your rules, doesn’t mean I’m your puppet. We both know who will be the more powerful one in May, so my advice?” By now, Juyeon’s nose is almost in her eye. He’s not even bothering to look at her.

“Don’t offend me.”

Jang Won finally snatches her wrist out of his hold when she feels his grip loosen. Huffing, she stomps past him, shoulder bumping into his arm for good measure as she leaves the office.

Younghoon just about catches his sister rolling her eyes so hard, she was this close to hurling a string of vulgarities at the wooden of her office door. “Hey, what were you doing in your office? People are looking for you!”

Without a word, her eyes are locked with his in frustration.

“What?” He frowns.

She thinks for a moment.

She can ruin him and destroy him by asking him to take Artemis for himself before the deal is due in June. Ask him why he was so useless and had his little sister do everything for him, never once really fighting to take ownership of a company legally his.

“Nothing,” The brush-off is sharp and distinct as she waves him off, turning to walk into the main hall. “Go get yourself more sponsors before June, will you? I’m not sure the same people would want to keep in touch with HERA & ARTEMIS after the separation and collaboration is made official.”

Juyeon returns home later that evening, still wearing the fourth outfit of the day. It was a blue suit with a black collar and details and all he wants to do is soak himself in his bath. Maybe he could go to sleep safe and sound, and he’d wake up single and free to do whatever he actually wants to do.

He walks down the entrance corridor, sick of all the staged portraits of him and his family hung on the walls. The main hall comes into sight, past the stairs on his right, where the television was still broadcasting bits and pieces of his wedding earlier. In the million-dollar couch sat his father, eyes and ears attentive to the screen.

“Was it so entertaining that you have to watch it again? I know you were there this afternoon.”

His father turns his head subtly. Juyeon pulls off his blazer and removes his watch, laying the heavy clothing over his forearm as he scans the broadcast.

“The Lee-Kim wedding saw nothing short of nothing but a perfect list of investors, sponsors, fellow colleagues and leaders of several enterprises...”

He turns to look at his father, obviously still somewhat hurt that he hadn’t been officially invited by his son - Mr Ro had sent out mandatory invites to family members.

“It was a gorgeous wedding.”

“Yeah, well...” Juyeon shrugs lifelessly, already turning around to head for the stairs. “I had no say in it. It was her wedding and I don’t care, so.”

“The Board is expecting you to go on a Honeymoon, you have that in place, right?”

Juyeon gives a dry chuckle, already on the first step of the stairs. “Yeah, we’re going to Guatemala.”

“Guatemala?” His father shifts his attention from the television and looks at Juyeon, halfway up the stairs. “You’re just finding a chance to go diving in Belize, aren’t you?”

His son doesn’t falter, only continuing taking each step towards the second level, in hopes that he wouldn’t have to listen to his father criticise the only thing Jang Won let him do. At least it was some kind of freedom.

“Juyeon-”

“Mom better not be in my room.”

The second floor corridor greets him with even more portraits of his family, most of the pictures of him when he was younger. He halts right outside his door when he notices light seeping out from beneath.

Sighing with exasperation, he lays his hand on the door handle, readying himself to listen to his mother ramble. But his attention drifts from the cream-painted mahogany to the low cabinet next to him, the blue shade of the stingray shining under the hallway lights.

There was a ceramic statue of a standing coral frame with the stingray within the arc, and on it engraved ‘Hawaii 2018′. He smiles, remembering only fond memories of seeing a huge stingray while diving. Sunwoo had been dragged out by him - one of those times when he fought with his parents and couldn’t stand being in the same house as them. He covered travel cost and hospitality fees, ensuring Sunwoo’s parents (whose family was also on the smaller arm of The Board’s administration) that he’d take care of them.

Juyeon got an earful from his parents when he came back. Young Jin Seol had been the one to tell his parents his whereabouts, solely because he had arranged for her to make sure it seemed like he was still doing his job at the office. So, of course, when his parents walked into office and she was doing his work for him, they had threatened to fire her.

But Juyeon knew he was indebted, and told his parents, “No Jin Seol, then you can forget about me taking over Apple-Korea.”

Sucking a deep breath, Juyeon shakes himself out of his mental trance, and pushes the door open.

The back of his mother seems so fragile on first sight, and he’s well aware she’s getting on in her years. For a split second, he feels emotional, possibly feeling some tinge of remorse at how horrible of a son he’s been.

Then he remembers that she’s had an abundance of spa treatments, country-club lunches with her fellow rich moms after a game of gold or tennis, and a bunch of other things she definitely didn’t need. He wish he could tell himself otherwise, that she had been born into this life and thus living anything else dissimilar to this would be tiring on her.

But he can’t.

“I’m surprised you bothered to come home,” She says without looking at him. Juyeon rests his blazer on the back of the single sofa seat that’s angled to face the one she’s sitting in. “I was wondering if I should send some pajamas over to Hera’s Manor.”

Juyeon sits in the crystal encrusted sofa seat, crossing his legs and eyeing his mother fiddle with the wedding band on her finger. It reminds him of his own.

“You realise you’re the one who bound me to the Kim family, don’t you? You’re the one who said okay to marrying Kim Jang Won, not me.”

“It was for your own good.”

“For mine or for our family?” Juyeon leans back in his seat and interlocks his fingers, placing them in his lap. “What else do you really need from the Lee family that you simply cannot take your eyes off? Their money? HERA & ARTEMIS? What?”

Only now does Juyeon notice the cup of tea on the small coffee table infront of them.

“A child,” She says, like it was the most casual thought one could have, before taking a sip of tea. Her son shuts his eyes then opens them with his eyebrows as far up his forehead as he can.

Providing a dry, tortured chuckle, Juyeon blinks multiple times, wishing that it was a condition with his hearing and not just something his mother had just spat out.

“A what?” Juyeon pulls apart his hands and leans forward, fists now clenched and pressed into the cushion he was sitting in.

“You heard me,” She places the tea cup down and refuses to look at him. “A child would mean inheritance. The Lee family will inherit the wealth of the Kims and it could possibly start a new system. It could rewrite The Board. We could become The Board.”

“What the-” He finally stands, barely choking out some kind of laughter filled with confusion and utter disbelief. “You want a child just to bond our families together and take over The fucking Board? My God, why are you so obsessed with The Board?”

“Because The Board is everything! No board, no us, no wealth and comfort like the kind we raised you in-”

“Does it look like I wanted it?!” Juyeon runs his hands through his hair, pulling his hair back and stretching his hairline.

“You ingrate-”

“So I am an ingrate. But I had no choice, I have no life of my own because guess who’s making my decisions for me? You! If I don’t even have the ability to make my own choices then how do I even qualify as an ingrate?!”

She’s silent, and very much staring at the words spewing out of her son’s mouth now. She huffs through her flared nostrils, picking up the saucer and the tea cup and standing. “I don’t know what kind of ideas Kim Jang Won has planted in your head but you are still part of the Lee family and-”

“For Gods’ sake, Jang Won has nothing to do with any of this! In fact, she can’t care less about what I’m doing, so long as it doesn’t change the course of this entire situation. If anything, she’s playing it safe; she’s playing it against her father, and not us,” The veins on Juyeon’s hands are about to rip through his skin when he cannot close his fist any more. “Her father literally climbed out the grave... and you took this chance to capitalise on that in order to make our family richer the moment you heard of The Board’s announcement regarding HERA & ARTEMIS’s ownership complications...”

Juyeon shakes his head subtly, realising that he was panting from the sheer force of anger and disgust rushing through him.

“And she’s younger than me. Lost her mother, lost her father, who only comes back to take what she built? You know, for a woman under The Board, I’d think you’d understand what she’s gone through. I thought... I thought you would’ve known how hard it is to be the successful one in the family but cannot pass down the family name... but everytime I think the world of you, and I think you’d act a little more like the woman I thought you are... you prove me wrong.”

Juyeon glares down at her, hands holding the teacup in the saucer with some kind of disapproving, disappointed look of fury in her eyes. Then he sighs heavily, hands rushing to pick up his blazer and storms out the room before she can.

“Leave Kim Jang Won alone, or else I’ll refuse Apple-Korea. By then, you can forget about all your stupid green bills and diamond rings.”

And with that, he slams the door shut.

Juyeon appears along the second floor hallway, visible from the first floor’s living hall, where his father was still watching the news of his wedding earlier on in the day. Of course, the door slamming would’ve caught his attention, so when his son rushes down the stairs while putting his blazer back on, the elder man removes himself off the couch.

“Juyeon! Where are you going?!”

“Don’t call me, and don’t even think of calling Hera’s Manor,” He opens the heavy front door with such determination, then slams it harder than he intends to. By the foot of the stairs leading down to the pick up point by the entrance, his two bodyguards are taken aback and flustered when Juyeon appears again.

“Uh, can I get Mr Bong around-”

The instruction through the guard’s earpiece is cut short and interrupted abruptly as Juyeon unplugs the earpiece from the transmitter.

“Mr Lee-”

Juyeon doesn’t hesitate to do the same with the other guard. By now, his father has gotten the front door open and yelling at him with disapproving scolds.

Rushing around the hood of the Porsche, Juyeon steps into the drivers’ seat - an unlikely sight, since he’s been chauffeured around most of the time.

“What in the world are you two doing? Stop him from leaving!”

The vehicle revs to life, and Juyeon fumbles under the passenger seat’s compartment box and every crook and cranny in the front of the car.

“Juyeon!”

He winds up the window on the driver’s side and locks the entire vehicle just as his father reaches the window. He tugs on the handle angrily, almost able to shake the entire car with his aggression.

“Juyeon, don’t you dare!”

Then, he finds it. A tracking device attached to all the cars his family owns.

Ripping it off the surface it was stuck into, he rolls down the window on the passenger’s side and hurls it out, straight into the arms of one of the bodyguards.

“Juyeon!”

He starts up the car and pulls it into drive, forcing his father to back off as he moves off.

#multifandomnet #juyeon fanfic #juyeon imagines #juyeon scenario #juyeon #lee juyeon #the boyz juyeon #tbz juyeon #the boyz fanfic #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #tbz #the boyz #love me a little less

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ivushk · 3 years ago

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HELLO. MAY I PLEASE HEAR MORE OF YOUR VAMPIRE AU…. 👉👈

OH MY GOD I'M SO GLAD YOU ASKED THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU

Okay, SO. BUCKLE THE FUCKLE UP 'CUZ here's what I've got so far:

Nishiki and Kiryu are still orphans at Sunflower. They come from a tiny village just a few kilometres west from the orphanage. It's a very close and closed-off community. The boys' parents died in a fire when they were very little (which is a common theme for the kids at Sunflower and isn't that a crazy coincidence? *smiles mysteriously*), however the Nishikiyama family house wasn't as badly damaged as Kiryu's so it's just sitting there, waiting for its former residents to reclaim ownership as soon as they're able to (I imagine Kazama would help them with that).

In the next years it becomes a home for Nishiki, Yuko and Kiryu (and Yumi, too, though she feels like a visitor for the most part) in everything but name. It's their hangout spot, their "base of operations", their not-so-secret meeting place. When Yuko's health deteriorates so much that she can't stay at Sunflower anymore, the siblings actually properly move in to make arranging the doctor's visits easier.

It's Nishiki's 17th birthday and all three of them are celebrating and playing games and eating cake and having a good time at the edge of the woods not far from the Nishikiyama residence. They're young and loud and stupid (and ignoring the fact that several people went missing over the course of the last few months) and if Nishiki's heart beats a little too hard in his chest when Kiryu gives him his gift - a beautiful, heavy silver pendant on a slightly-worn leather cord - he doesn't think about it too much (and if he notices that Kiryu stares at him just a bit longer than usual without saying a single word but his gaze is so, so, SO fond-- he doesn't think about it either). (he leaves these kinds of thoughts for restless nights because thinking about his best friend in that way during the day... it hurts. the hurt is good sometimes but it's overwhelming).

They're drunk on the cheap beer they've smuggled from Gen-san's fridge and high on happiness. Unaware that the very same night it would all go crashing down.

At some point they all quiet down and go a little further into the woods than they normally would but no one pays any mind to that. And when suddenly their trio turns into a duo with the sudden absence of the birthday boy himself no one immediately starts panicking. He's been gone for ten minutes, twenty, half an hour. Kiryu tells Yuko to go back to the village, to gather everyone, make them start a search party or something while he keeps looking for her brother (the only things he'll find are the pendant he's gifted to Nishiki with the leather cord torn and the broken shards of his own hope). They never find him.

A year goes by and they hold a funeral for Nishikiyama Akira. Even though there's no body for them to bury. Yuko doesn't cry (she doesn't believe he's really dead). Neither does Kiryu (he used all of his tears up that night, the guilt choking him, and the night after that, and the night after that, and the night-). Yumi does, however. And the nice old lady who gave both Nishiki and Kiryu money for helping her do chores around the house. And the man who gave Nishikiyama a part-time job at his shop (to put at least something towards the cost of his sister's treatment, he felt so indebted to Kazama, and that debt weighed down on him). And a few of the girls and boys from Sunflower too.

Another two years pass. Kiryu moves away to the big city at the behest of Kazama. "It's important for you to continue your education," he says. ("It's important for you to move on," he keeps these words to himself). Kiryu really tries his best. Even makes a few friends (although he's still on the fence about whether he can actually call Oda his friend). It goes as well as it could have considering his circumstances. They say that time heals but Kazuma Kiryu never finds out if there's any truth to those words because he recieves a very short letter - an invitation, actually. To another funeral. But this time it's Yuko they're burying. This time they actually have a body to bury.

Tachibana offers his condolences. Oda offers him a ride to the village and back. Kiryu accepts both.

He can't help but compare this funeral to the last one he's been to. There are fewer people. Fewer tears, too. More flowers. It's quieter and feels something like closure (in truth, it's anything but). Yuko also left behind a will (more like a bunch of wishes since it wasn't an official document but the community decided to honour them anyway). Almost all of her possessions went to the kids from Sunflower, except for the Nishikiyama family house (which on paper actually belonged to Shintaro Kazama) which she left to Kiryu. He can't quite believe it when he hears it and feels his heart break under the onslaught of childhood memories. Still, he goes there later that evening. He finds that little has changed in the time he spent away from the house, from the village, from... all of this, really. There are the same pictures on the walls collecting only slightly less dust. The same books on the shelves and under the broken legs of the old pieces of furniture. The same medicine bottles and equipment in the bedroom, though doubled in quantity. Kiryu's not as devastated as he thought he'd be when he walks around what he used to call his home.

He goes through all the rooms, taking notes of every single thing he finds and every single thing he doesn't. He probably misses a bunch of things (he's not as good at that sort of thing, Nishiki's always had a much better eye for details). Once back outside, he looks for the secret stash they made back when they were teenagers. It's like going through a time capsule. There's a pack of cigarettes he and Nishiki once stole from the teacher's bag, copybooks filled with ugly doodles, dreams for the future and dried flowers and leaves, caps from soda bottles, rocks they thought looked cool, photos and birthday cards damaged by time and weather... the pendant Kiryu gave to Nishiki the last time they saw each other. And a small notebook Kiryu's never seen before. A diary of sorts, a recounting of their days together and their days apart. The handwriting is unmistakingly Yuko's.

It fills him with nostalgia, tears welling up in his eyes, unshed. His heart sinks when he finally reaches the pages where Yuko recounts the last few weeks before she-

She writes about her brother, which is understandable. What's less understandable is the fact that she speaks of him as though he was there, with her. Physically present. Kiryu could chalk it up to the girl being delusional in her dying moments but it doesn't feel right to do so. It's stupid, it's absolutely impossible, he's confused, he's hopeful, why would Yuko hide her notebook there?

The last page. A message. For Kiryu. "Please, Kazuma-kun, help my brother".

Against his better judgement, Kiryu decides to spend the night in the house. Sleep doesn't come to him but that's fine. He sits in the living room, trying to make sense of everything. He sits there until it's way past midnight, until the distant barking of the dogs quiets down, until the rustling of leaves stops, until the very air around him grows still and silent and somehow charged with strange energy. And then he hears it. Three uncertain taps against the window. Kiryu turns his head. It's him.

"Kiryu... Let me in. Please."

He does, without thinking. (He could never very well say no to Nishiki. Even if it got them both in trouble. Even if he's not real.)

The quiet is deafening. It really is him. His best friend (whom he thought dead). His kyoudai. Before Nishiki could say anything, Kiryu wraps him in a tight hug. The only heartbeat between them is Kiryu's own, thundering against his ribs. Nishikiyama doesn't let the hug last, putting some distance between them. He looks guilty, tired; looks at Kiryu with sadness, with longing and something else that he can't quite decipher yet (and it makes him scared but why?). Nishiki also looks older than Kiryu remembers. Not a 17-year-old boy anymore, no. About the same age that Kiryu is now.

Has his gaze always been so sharp? Have his fangs always been this pronounced?

They talk until their throats are hoarse. Until Nishiki pulls out a bottle with some liquid that smells strongly of iron and drinks from it and in that moment Kiryu believes everything his friend has told him. It's crazy, but he does.

Nishiki was abducted that night. Taken from them. By vampires. They hurt him. Forced him to fight other humans (just like him then) for his survival. They fed on him.

It went on and on and on... Days turned into weeks, turned into months, turned into years. Only thoughts of Yuko, and Kiryu, and Yumi kept him going. He wanted to see them again. He hoped he would. That hope was crushed when Nishikiyama met his match in the arena. No, not his match. Someone far stronger. He lost and was tossed out to die. But another vampire saved him. It was a woman, whose face he saw often among the spectators of his fights. She stood out from the crowd, since she never cheered for any of the humans. Never put any bets. Only looked at all that madness with quiet horror. "Reina" she said her name was.

She gave Nishiki blood. Her own blood, and the blood of the vampires that were much stronger and more powerful than her (but not wiser), and human blood.

He turned and it was even worse than the years of anguish he had experienced. The pain and constant thirst almost drove him mad until he was taught to deal with them.

Nishiki was given a second chance. He escaped. And ever since that moment he's been trying his damndest to help other victims of those monsters. Both, the poor imprisoned souls and the villagers who might have shared his fate otherwise.

THAT CONCLUDES MY MAD RAMBLINGS BECAUSE I HAVEN'T THOUGHT OUT WHAT HAPPENS NEXT THAT WELL

also i don't remember the last time i wrote this much in one sitting and i'm tireeeeeed. i'm not cut out to be a writer and it shows nghghghhhhhh

but! but! but! i have a couple thoughts on where the story goes:

kiryu decides to stay in the village and help nishiki

they uncover the vampires evil plans and recruit a few other characters to fight on the side of JUSTICE (i.e. kazama, who up to that point has been kind of in cahoots with the vamps - hence trying to atone by means of creating the Sunflower orphanage; kashiwagi; yumi; reina; tachibana and oda; majima, and yeah he was actually the one that defeatead nishiki and unknowingly caused him to become a vampire, also majima himself turns into a vampire later in the story thanks to a certain mad simp nishitani)

yuko comes back as a vampire

at some point the scene from my fanart happens; something along the lines of kiryu and nishiki being found by the evil vamps and being attacked. then of course nishiki saves kiryu (who's still baffled that this shit is happening to them and vampires are REAL) and tells him to run which he doesn't but it works out fine in the end

the scene of nishiki drinking kiryu's blood is a MUST because i. love. that. shit. (it's also extremely horny dfjvhsdkfhiasdfhisd)

nishiki's personality is somewhere in between his ykz0 and ykz k*wami self (like, he's much colder now but he still cares about others and does things not just for the sake of his own ambition)

idk about the end but immortal boyfriends? sounds nice?

#i'm so sorry anon this took so long #i went to bed and slept for like 12 hours and then my neck and back were really bothering me ghjklkjljfkjg #i had to take a few smoke breaks along the way #writing shit is hard #OKAY I'M DONE WITH EXCUSES SORRYYYYY #nishikiryu #yakuza #vampire!au #ask

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dwellordream · 3 years ago

Text

“Today, children born to unwed mothers, abandoned children, abused children, and orphans all move through government systems of care. How did early Americans deal with similarly vulnerable children? Orphans and “bastards” (as they were then called) constituted a significant proportion of these unfortunate youngsters, because in those days adult mortality rates and social disapproval of unwed mothers were greater than in our own. Child abuse was not generally recognized as a problem then, because adults were expected to use violence when disciplining their children. But community-constructed ideas about “proper parenting” prompted official intervention then, as it does today. And education to a skill and to a basic standard of literacy was essential then, as it is now. What differentiated early America was the expectation that children would contribute their labor to the households in which they lived.

In early America, “proper” families were places where children learned to serve the larger community by contributing meaningful labor—important in an era when being “useful” to the community was more important than exercising individual rights. In such families children would receive all the necessities of life and not end up on “poor relief” that drained community resources— important in an era when all public welfare was funded by local taxes. In such families children would be well “governed” and would learn their place in society—important in an era when social inequalities were considered God ordained. A successful childhood meant different things then and now. Today we emphasize children’s literacy and education, and we expect children to graduate from high school. Early Americans measured success by acquisition of work skills that enabled children to perform adult labor. Conscientious parents raised their children to carry on the work of their mothers and fathers.

In 1750, an orphaned boy who learned the “mysteries of husbandry” so that he could farm his own plot of land was considered a success. So was a “bastard” girl who learned “housewifery” skills so that she could “keep house” for her husband. Child labor and education were intertwined in early America, as binding out makes clear, but communities differed about what constituted a proper education. Educational provisions in indentures for poor children reflected the various European laws and customs that early Americans had adapted, diverse expectations of children’s labor according to race and gender, and the economic and social histories of particular American communities. By the early 1800s, binding out poor children occurred through a patchwork of systems that revealed experiences and assumptions about children held by adults in various regions and localities.

A social critic writing in 1762 under the name “Jersey Man” articulated some of his assumptions in this regard in The Countryman’s Lamentation. Having observed and lamented over “great Numbers of People in a distressed and starving Condition” whose children were destined to “inherit all their Patrimonies,” he had tried to persuade such parents to “let their Children go”— into someone else’s household as an apprentice. If parents resisted, then local magistrates should “wrest these poor unhappy Children from under the thick Shades of Ignorance” and bind them out themselves. The Jersey Man was convinced that children would profit significantly from being “put out” and that they would ultimately be grateful for life opportunities they could not fi nd in their own homes. Several morality tales illustrated this conviction.

The son of “R. Indolent” grew up under his new master “to be a useful Man as most in the Country.” The daughter of “E. Simpel” grew up under her new master to marry well and “become very useful in Society.” In the Jersey Man’s view, the only way many children would receive a “proper and instructive Education” was for them to be removed from the “Briers and Rubbish” of their natal homes; only then might society might “expect a useful Member in succeeding Periods of Life.” The Jersey Man was clearly championing pauper apprenticeship, but he never used that term. “Pauper apprenticeship” follows English precedent but does not reflect the diversity of terminology in early America, as the historians contributing to this volume have discovered. Where the children’s parents were poor or troublesome, the authorities doing the binding referred to the practice as “pauper apprenticeship,” “orphan apprenticeship,” or simply “indenture of poor children” in the documents that are our best informants about the system.

“Apprenticeship” was used broadly to refer to both poor children and those whose parents had bound them voluntarily to learn a trade, and the term meant very different things in different times and places. In Boston, children bound out by the overseers of the poor were uniformly labeled “apprentices,” but in Connecticut, the term was seldom used by selectmen doing the binding. In New Netherland, “apprenticeships” provided vocational training, in contrast to “indentures for service.” Although “servant” was applied to many of the bound children, it can hardly cover the case of those bound out by their parents to learn crafts and trades, and in some locations, magistrates avoided calling poor children “servants,” even though their indentures bound them to menial servitude. Colonial Maryland law stipulated that children without property be bound “as servants,” but in Charleston, South Carolina, prospective masters specifically promised not to treat children as servants (a term that often referred to slaves); they commonly applied for simple “apprentices.” In Virginia and New Orleans, magistrates favored the term “apprentice.”

Whatever this binding out was called, it was a local institution, and the documents revealing it were generated by local magistrates. One reason for the relative obscurity of this practice is its local nature. Historians of particular localities found records of pauper apprenticeship, which they discussed as a small part of a larger community history. The extent and significance of the institution could not be glimpsed until those scholars brought their work together. Now that these local studies have been aggregated in this volume, it is clear that pauper apprenticeship was an important a source of labor to individual communities. The thousands of contracts underlying this study confirm that a significant share of children passed through this system.

…The records that describe pauper apprenticeship are still located in local (town, parish, or county) archives, many in surprisingly good condition. Inconsistency in record-keeping and subsequent record preservation has resulted in gaps in documentation, so that we cannot provide an accurate count of all children bound out in each area studied. Nevertheless, the existing documentation reveals a distinctive chronological arc of binding out in each case study, and when the studies are taken together, they reveal general trends. Indenturing children began as soon as Europeans organized settlements in North America, as the following chapter shows. In the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries local magistrates produced and preserved increasing numbers of indentures. By the middle of the nineteenth century, pauper apprenticeship was no longer practiced in some areas and had significantly declined in the rest.

Orphanages and other institutions began to assume responsibility for caring for young people. When pauper apprenticeship flourished, local civil officials drew their authority to bind children from colonial and state statutes. These laws gave a distinct advantage to public officials in the creation of apprenticeship records. Most of the documents behind the studies in this volume report the viewpoint of those court officials, town leaders, and institutional directors who generated the indentures and the accompanying paperwork. The magistrates have the loudest voices and the greatest advantage in telling their side of the story. The Jersey Man was probably himself a magistrate, for he promoted the binding out of poor children in language and allegory that take the perspective of civil authority. His Lamentation reflects the mentalité of these authorities to some degree, revealing what they thought they were doing when they bound out children.

If we can believe the self-presentation that looms perceptibly in the Lamentation and, more subtly, between the lines of the indentures, the magistrates who bound out pauper apprentices were, for the most part, well-informed, well-connected, and well-intentioned men. They stayed alert to problems in households under their government; they fashioned solutions to those problems with shrewdness and benevolence; and their solutions took into consideration the good of the whole community. Officials had several strong motivations for binding out poor children, and they probably all worked simultaneously. The first and perhaps the most compelling reason was to relieve the community of the financial burden of poor relief. In the studies in this volume, the great majority of the children bound out had been judged to be “poor” and were therefore the responsibility of overseers of the poor.

Supporting the poor was serious business in early America. Lacking consistent external standards to determine whether a family was poor, authorities made subjective decisions based on the custom of the country. Thus, whether a given family would have been identified as poor varied from place to place. Relief funds came from local taxes, and officials and taxpayers alike wanted to minimize those taxes. Binding out took the financial obligation for care of poor children out of public hands and placed it on the children themselves, who had to work for their keep under the direction of their masters. Binding out was also an effective way for magistrates to shape households under their jurisdiction.

In American societies organized along patriarchal lines, the ideal family was headed by an adult male who was recognized as responsible by the authorities; in some cases authorities did not recognize free men of color as sufficiently responsible. The death, absence, or failure of such an authority— resulting in a child who had no parent, guardian, or master—prompted magistrates to intervene. Binding out not only resolved economic problems in the child’s household, it also resolved the social problem implicit in a minor not living under the authority of a “suitable” father—it put such a child under the “government” of one who would impose discipline of a kind acceptable to civil authorities.

In a few localities, magistrates proactively searched out adverse situations in their jurisdictions; observation was an official task. In many other localities, magistrates expected others to relay information to them. In still other cases, would-be masters approached magistrates and requested an indenture, often because an orphaned or abandoned child was already being cared for in the household, so that the indenture simply formalized an existing living arrangement. After locating a master, officials negotiated contract terms with him. In general terms, the master was expected to raise his pauper apprentice to become a productive member of the community. This meant socializing the child to the community’s culture of work, which was inevitably sharply gendered and hierarchical.

Girls were to learn housewifery skills; boys were to learn farming, a trade, or plain manual labor. A satisfactory indenture was thus the culmination of much thought and discussion between authorities and others; it reflected officials’ knowledge of their community and their ability to govern their civic family. The Lamentation and the archival documents suggest that magistrates derived satisfaction from a successful binding out. Doubtless some civil authorities had little sympathy for the children they bound out, but other civil authorities looked upon themselves as humanitarians and followed the apprentice’s situation with a benevolent eye. One anecdote in The Countryman’s Lamentation, obviously intended to prod reluctant parents to part with their children, related how an ill child prospered because of magistrates’ personal intervention: “The Overseers of the Parish took him home, and all necessary Care was taken of him; but before he got well it was observed he had a bright Genius for Learning and Improvement, and great Endeavours were used with the Parents to put him out for that End.”

The records suggest that this tale was not pure fabrication. Authorities responsible for binding out poor children often actually lived with those children. Most overseers of the poor and institutional managers received dislocated children into their homes and institutions on a temporary basis, but some went further. Some officials even took indentures of children who had come to their attention. When civil authorities bound out a child as a pauper apprentice, they were standing in the place of parents, taking actions that many able mothers and fathers often took—finding a “place” for a child to be educated for adulthood. In North America before 1850, it was neither unusual nor remarkable for children to live outside their natal households.

Middling sort parents commonly turned to formal craft apprenticeships as a way to prepare their children for adulthood, negotiating sometimes costly contracts so that their adolescent sons and daughters could spend five, six, or seven years living with and learning a trade from a relative or neighbor. Parents with fewer resources frequently resorted to “placing” their children in households where they would receive care and where the parents could keep an eye on them. Many—perhaps the majority—of these arrangements were secured not by contracts but simply by verbal agreement, and the children involved grew up informally as laborers in other households. Pauper apprenticeship empowered officials to intervene when parents were unwilling or unable to make such arrangements as officials deemed necessary for their children.

The Jersey Man directed his Lamentation to unwilling parents and proffered his advice in a staged conversation between a “squire” and straw-man fathers bearing names such as “Mr. Shortsighted,” “Mr. Weakmind,” “Mr. Inconsiderate,” and “Mr. Mistrust.” In fact, the Lamentation presents pauper apprenticeship as necessary because so many parents—fathers in particular— lacked the common sense and self-discipline to relinquish their children to be educated and governed by more able and prosperous persons: “Oh how many serviceable Men, and Women might we have had from amongst your Children, if you had not abstinately stood in their Way: How can you be so unnatural to your own Flesh to confine them to sordid Ignorance and Want, when Preferments waits ready to take them by the Hand.”

The documentary record gives us a less prejudicial and more complex view of the pauper apprentice’s parents and other advocates. Many of the children bound out had no living parents to see to their interests; instead, magistrates dealt with other relatives, guardians, or friends as they fashioned indentures. In all of the studies in this volume, such nonparental advocates were a significant presence in the process of pauper apprenticeship. Even the Jersey Man acknowledged this reality in his vignette of a child bound out “by the forceable Persuasions of some near Relations.” A child came to the attention of civil authorities for a variety of reasons, including disorderly behavior in the child’s family, bastardy, and parental death, desertion, or neglect.

The high mortality rates that characterized North America until the twentieth century necessarily entailed deaths of relatively young mothers and fathers. In the documents relating to binding out, magistrates frequently used the term orphan, but its meaning varied from locality to locality. The most common usage referred to a child whose father had died; even if the mother was living, civil authorities might still consider the child an “orphan.” Children designated as orphans constituted one-fifth of the pauper apprentices in eighteenth-century Rhode Island and nineteenth-century Savannah; one quarter of the cases in antebellum Ohio; between 60 and 90 percent of the children bound out in Talbot County, Maryland, before 1760; and a whopping 95 percent of the instances in Baltimore County, Maryland between 1794 and 1830.

In Charleston, as John Murray’s chapter shows, mothers brought just over half the children who had been proposed for admission to the Orphan House between 1790 and 1860, while fathers sponsored only a tenth; the remaining third were presumably full orphans. In Montreal, as Gillian Hamilton’s chapter shows, in addition to local children who had lost a parent, the Children’s Friend Society brought several hundred British orphans to Canada. These children lost all connection with extended family: truly strangers in a strange land. Desertion by the parents was another problem officials solved by binding out children. Sometimes officials designated abandoned children as orphans even though their fathers (or both parents) might still be alive somewhere.

The Jersey Man characterized such a situation in his tale of “R. Indolent,” who “absconded” for a few weeks and, upon his return, found his oldest son bound out. Although the father “did all in his Power to get him back again” and “made a great bluster,” the boy stayed where he was. The documents are peppered with similar real-life desertions. In some cases when a seafaring father did not return from a voyage within the expected time, the family sought binding out of younger children to ease their destitution. Other times a father had clearly “absconded” (often to the West), and occasionally a mother deserted her children. Children born to unmarried parents were a significant problem for magistrates in some places but not others.

Illegitimate children were so numerous in Frederick County, Virginia, in the mid-1700s that they constituted a significant subset of pauper apprentices; similarly, in colonial Talbot County, Maryland, they averaged between 10 and 30 percent of pauper apprentices over the period 1670–1760; and they accounted for about 20 percent of indentures in Rhode Island between 1750 and 1800. On the other hand, “bastards” were very few indeed in Charleston. In these cases, the mother—an unmarried woman—did not constitute a proper head of household in a society where the patriarchal family was the prevailing ideal. Indeed, the difficulties faced by single women in earning a living wage meant that a fatherless family really was at increased likelihood of an eventual application for poor relief.

Illegitimate children came under the oversight of the civil “fathers” of the community, as illustrated by bastardy laws and other statutes that gave local officials considerable latitude in extracting maintenance from the supposed father and binding out the child. “Poor” is often the single descriptor of a child’s family situation. While this was often a catch-all term that substituted for a more enlightening explanation, other times it referred to real destitution. The Jersey Man declared that he had seen “great Numbers of People in a distressed and starving Condition.” The frequent descriptions of poverty in pauper apprenticeship records suggest that his judgment may not have been far off the mark. Other times, children were not in physical distress for lack of food or clothing but were behaving in ways that violated community norms.

Sometimes the problem was the behavior of the parents themselves. This was the Jersey Man’s theme song. He assured his audience that “all Parents that will bring up their Children in religious Duties carefully, and teach them Industry” were not in danger of having their children bound out. “But Multitudes are Strangers to these Things themselves, and therefore unlikely to bestow it upon their Children either by Example or Precept.” In fact, it was the Jersey Man’s opinion that the poverty that necessitated pauper apprenticeship was the result of the parents’ wasteful and ignorant behavior: “A whole Street of you that there is some Hundred in it, would not keep one good Farm, not even mine, in the same Order one Year not by your own economy, and this keeps you but a Step before the Animals in your best Appearance, and in some Things much below them.”

The records verify that some magistrates used pauper apprenticeships as a punitive measure to curb the behavior of the parents, but such circumstances did not apply to the vast majority of children bound out. Many parents who sought or agreed to indenture their children desired to have control over the conditions of the contract. They saw the advantage of indenture in providing for their children when they could not, and they granted officials the right to disassemble their families, but they wanted to have a say in the way their daughters and sons were integrated into other households. The removal of children through binding out reshaped the natal family. Sometimes siblings left their families in a staggered fashion, indicating that parents or guardians had made hard decisions about when a child was most ready to leave home or when that child’s help was least needed at home. Other times, siblings were all removed from their home simultaneously, pointing to a major crisis that disrupted the family unit.

But indenture did not necessarily mean complete separation from parents. Sometimes family members stayed in contact with bound children and monitored their progress and treatment. Nor did relatives hesitate to complain to authorities if they felt something was amiss. In various localities, mothers who married or remarried sometimes tried to reclaim their children from pauper apprenticeship, since the child would return to a male- headed household that conformed to community norms—and enjoyed the new husband’s greater income. Parents and other advocates thus demonstrated their concern for their children’s welfare and their hope that binding out provide their sons and daughters with some semblance of family life.

The Jersey Man’s Lamentation was addressed to parents, not masters. It was not a treatise on the good management of pauper apprentices or an advice book for employers of children. Masters of pauper apprentices do not even appear as major characters in the pamphlet. Rather, they are offstage, allegorical figures—negative images raised by fearful parents and positive images raised by magistrates trying to quiet those fears. One of the greatest of those fears was physical abuse, and the Jersey Man addressed it directly. “Mr. Mistrust” raises the issue: “Their Masters or Mistresses sometimes uses them very hardly: You know Mr. Condescending’s Son was beat by Mr. Severe and I know not but my Son may be treated in the same Way: I don’t choose to venture it.”

“Esquire John” responded not by denying the existence of such possibilities but rather by declaring that beatings were no barrier to a child’s ultimate happiness: Even if a child was “so unfortunate” as to be “treated with Severity for five or six or ten years of his life” and subsequently became “a useful Member of Society” who was “happy in himself” and made his family happy by his “prudent conduct,” then that child had “Infinately the Advantage of those that are brought up in Ignorance.” Ask Mr. Condescending’s son yourself, the squire suggested: “he will tell you, that tho’ his Hardship was considerable for Ten long Years, yet the Ballance was greately in his Favour; and that were it to do again he had rather go thro’ it than miss of Improvement.” “Improvement.” That was the master’s task.

Running through the Lamentation is the assumption that masters were, by and large, better at this task than were the parents of those children. In a master’s household, poor children would encounter “good Instruction and Example” so that their “Ideas are enlarged and Judgment ripened.” Still, the Jersey Man understood that parents were skeptical about putting their daughters and sons in the care of another family, and he appealed to poor parents’ sense of deference to their “betters.” From the perspective of civil authorities, masters were indeed “better” than the parents of the pauper apprentices they took on. Masters had won the approval of local magistrates. In the Lamentation, it is clear that masters were trusted by authorities to work with authorities by binding out children who represented a risk to the peace and prosperity of the community.

In a sense, masters were agents who carried out the goals of the magistrates in preparing the youngest and poorest of the rising generation for a useful adulthood of service within the community. The vast majority of masters were male, white, and middling or upper class. Occasionally a child was bound to a single woman who practiced a trade or to a widow who carried on her husband’s business, but such women stand out in the documents because of their scarcity. Even though they were not often legal masters of bound children, women were essential to the administration of indenture in the domestic setting. While under the official “government” of a master, the pauper apprentice was usually under the daily care and management of the master’s wife or other adult female.

It was assumed that women in the master’s household would fulfill the contract terms relating to food and drink, provision and care of clothing, and, in many cases, basic literacy education. When a girl was bound to a master to learn “housewifery” skills, it was assumed that the master’s wife, daughter, female relative, or female servant would do the actual instruction. In some cases, the indentures make clear that a child was going to a master “and wife”; in some instances the wife is explicitly mentioned as essential to the success of the indenture. Magistrates expected masters to do a better job than their apprentices’ parents had done in “improving” their offspring. This meant not just putting food in children’s bellies and clothing on their backs, it also meant preparing them for a productive adulthood, consistent with the child’s status and abilities.

The rank and skills of the masters varied widely but always were greater than those of the parents of the child bound out. Masters were also expected to train their apprentices in a skill or trade, a practical and important preparation for adulthood. In most cases, someone in the master’s family was already practicing the trade; the child would simply learn by watching the adult. This was particularly true in the case of girls who were to be taught housewifery skills; household business would proceed along familiar lines while the girl watched and learned from the women in the family. Masters were expected to see that their pauper apprentices learned the basics of reading and writing and also (in the case of many boys) arithmetic. While the great majority of masters were literate, there were a few instances of masters marking indentures rather than signing.

In those cases, it was the master’s responsibility to hire a tutor or send the child to whatever school the community provided. Education in the three Rs was correlated to the skill training pauper apprentices would receive. The goal was that they became literate enough to sell their skills. A relational commitment between the child and its master focuses attention on the child’s place in the master’s household. Some children experienced great affection and were treated as one of the family. Other children suffered considerable brutality, as indicated by documentary accounts of abusive treatment and by the Jersey Man himself, who tried to assure the anxious Mr. Mistrust that “these Instances [of severe beating] seldom happen, and I hope they will be fewer still as we have an excellent Law that is well guarded in Favour of such as may fall into severe Hands.”

Severe masters were in every community, often armed with a whip or rod. For many masters, an extra pair of hands and a strong back were the central motivation in taking on a bound child. Barry Levy has shown that in eighteenth-century Massachusetts, a typical master took a bound child early in the marriage, before his own children could contribute significant labor to the household. Masters’ concern for economic benefit can be glimpsed in squabbles between masters and magistrates about bonuses for taking an indenture or about the profitability of a child’s labor. Other masters appear to have had a genuine desire to help a child in distress.

Whatever their motives, masters were constrained by the terms of the contracts they signed with magistrates. They were bound as much as the children were. Their obligations to provide daily maintenance, literacy education, skill training, and freedom dues probably bore heavily on them at times, as the master’s economic fortunes shifted or as tensions developed between master and child. Masters ran the gamut from kindly to vicious, from men prompted by charity and conscience to look after those in distress to men motivated purely by economic greed. It was the unfortunate child who got the latter. In the Jersey Man’s pamphlet, pauper apprentices—“poor unhappy children”—are objects of pity: “It is not easy and pleasant to Children to be confined to stedy Employment, but those of Age and Experience know it to be good and order them a suitable Portion of Labour according to their Age of Ability.”

They are also implicitly presented as the future of society: it is imperative that they be taught to work well and grow up to be useful members of the community. But the Jersey Man gives them no voice of their own. They do not appear in any of the constructed dialogues. They offer no narratives. The genre of children’s literature was well established when the Lamentation appeared in 1762, much of it purported to be written by children, but the Jersey Man does not make use of it. Similarly, in the documents of binding out, the children are the hardest to hear. Their voices are the most muted, although their perspective was singularly important. It was they who would experience the dislocation of removal from their natal homes and placement in a new home.

Pauper apprentices were among the least powerful people in a community. In a patriarchal and hierarchical society, they were a form of property. They “belonged to” their parents, and then they “belonged to” their masters. As children, they were dependent people in multiple ways. Historian Stephanie Wolf points out that “The words ‘child,’ ‘boy,’ and ‘girl’ were all derived from Old English derogatory terms for servants, and even the legal word for youth— ‘minor’—was literally defined as ‘less,’ a social rather than an age designation.” Pauper apprentices, as both children and servants, were at the bottom of the social hierarchy. These young people were in a difficult place. They came from family situations that were tenuous.

Some had no fathers, because those men had died while others had refused to acknowledge their sons and daughters or had abandoned their families outright. Others had no parents at all, because their mothers too had died or abandoned them. Some had witnessed parents being injured or becoming seriously ill. Some had parents who were drunken and abusive or so hopeless at providing for their families that starvation threatened. At critical moments in their young lives, they were being placed forcibly into new households. Further, few children had any say in the terms of their indentures. Some older apprentices asked to change masters in order to learn a new skill, but most children had to live with whatever arrangements were made on their behalf by friends and relatives or by magistrates and masters.

Children might be bound into family situations that were little better than the ones they were leaving behind, or they might fi nd themselves in vastly improved circumstances. The wide range of fates for bound children is suggested in the contract variations that pertained to daily maintenance, literacy training, skill training, and freedom dues. Magistrates did not intend that all children should be treated alike. The system was permeated with distinctions of the basis of the child’s sex, race, age, and family background. In every study, boys outnumbered girls. They constituted 64 percent of the indentures in Charleston, 78 percent in Virginia, 83 percent in Baltimore. This did not mean that girls labored any less in their neighbors’ shops, gardens, and houses but rather that their labor was less likely to be protected by formal contracts.

This consistent preponderance of males suggests that magistrates and masters were more eager to secure male labor in a formal way and that widowed mothers might have been especially interested in getting boys out of the house. Another important variable in determining the apprentice’s experience was race. The extent to which children of color were targeted for binding out varied greatly. Black children are absent from the Charleston Orphan House indentures and nearly absent from the Boston Almshouse and Chester County Almshouse indentures; apparently, officials in these localities had some other means of placing children of color. Only two of the thirty-six indentures in New Netherland were for “Negro” children, and few indentures in Connecticut were for children designated as other than white.

On the other hand, in certain towns in Rhode Island (where slavery had flourished) as well as in Maryland and Virginia, pauper apprenticeship became a highly racialized institution by the beginning of the nineteenth century, increasingly directed to harness the labor of people of color across the generations. The age at which a child left the natal home and entered pauper apprenticeship, either directly or after a time in an institution or with a temporary caretaker, had a great impact. A child bound out at age three or four literally grew up as a member of another household; a child bound out as a teenager had only a few years to endure—or profit from—the government of the master.

The indentures that form the basis of this study show that children were bound out at every age from a few months old to just shy of majority; the average age at binding was anywhere from 6.7 to 15.3 years, depending on the locality. In addition, girls were often bound at younger ages than boys, and children of color at younger ages than whites. Thus it would be misleading to specify a “typical” age at binding for all American pauper apprentices. Still, this range of ages generally reflects changing perceptions of the stages of childhood. During the eighteenth century, children were generally considered to be able to labor enough to earn their keep around age six or seven; this rose to age eight or nine in the nineteenth century.

Masters who took on pauper apprentices younger than that often were rewarded with some kind of bonus, premium, or maintenance payment to compensate for the child’s relative lack of productivity. By their early teens, children were considered able to perform nearly-adult labor, and most early censuses counted boys over age fifteen as male adults—ready to bear arms—in the general population. Pauper apprentices bound at age twelve or thirteen were often considered very desirable, capable of bringing a substantial prof t to the master’s household, because they contributed nearly-adult labor in return for little more than daily maintenance.

Arguably the most significant differences in the contracts have to do with the educational preparation the child would receive: literacy and skill training. White boys were usually promised the most literacy education (reading, writing, cyphering, or equivalent schooling), particularly before the 1800s. They also were more likely than girls to be promised more valuable skill training. Thus they had the best prospects for independent adulthood. Girls generally were promised less literacy training (reading, writing) until sexual disparity in schooling began to disappear around 1800. They also were usually trained only in “housewifery” or female domestic labor, which had less market value than the skilled trades.

Thus they were more likely to remain in dependent labor positions as adults. This disparity was emphasized by race. In general, boys of color sometimes were promised more literacy and skill training than white girls, but they usually were promised much less skill training than white boys and were often simply put to manual labor for the duration of their indentures. Girls of color benefited the least from the system, exiting indenture with the least literacy training and fewest work skills. Race proved the stronger determinant over time, as binding out became increasingly associated with children of color after 1800 in places as diverse as Rhode Island and Virginia. Then, more than ever, the system prepared children to take their parents’ place in society.

Sharp differences also separated children by race and sex in the matter of freedom dues, the master’s payment promised to the child at the end of the indenture, a clause that appeared in most indentures (Talbot County, Maryland, was an exception). This payment usually included an outfit of clothing— uitzet in New Netherland—but the amount and quality of the clothing varied widely. Beyond these basics, some boys were promised money, land, livestock, or tools of the trade, and some girls were promised money, furniture, or a cow. In general, boys received more valuable freedom dues than girls: they more frequently were promised something beyond clothing, and the worth of their dues was greater than that of girls.

These extra payments sometimes reflected that a boy had been bound for a longer term than other children or at an older age, so that his labor during the term was more productive. Other times, the extra payments reflected societal expectations that certain boys would establish themselves as independent workers as young adults. Children bound out must have looked forward with great anticipation to the day their indenture ended and they became “free.” Children were bound to adulthood, in most cases, but adulthood was defined in different ways. White girls were bound to age sixteen or eighteen. In a few places, girls of color were bound past age eighteen—until twenty-one in some Rhode Island towns; until thirty-one in colonial Maryland and Virginia.

White boys almost always were bound to age twenty-one, while boys of color were sometimes bound past this age—until twenty-four in some Rhode Island towns, until thirty-one in colonial Maryland and Virginia. Most indentures prohibited the apprentice from marrying, but in some cases they offered a powerful incentive to marry: freedom. South Carolina law, for example, stipulated that female pauper apprentices would end their time at age nineteen or upon their marriage, whichever came first. There is frustratingly little evidence by which to measure the consequences of pauper apprenticeship for the children who came through the system. The contracts are prescriptive literature, telling masters and servants how they should behave, but there is scant documentation of the gap between prescription and reality.

We know in a general way that the relationship between master and pauper apprentice did not end when the indenture ended. Some former apprentices continued to work side by side with their former masters. Some stayed in the same community, claiming residency by virtue of their years of bound labor. Some used the social and business connections fashioned during apprenticeship to set off in a new direction or set up a new occupation. A sense of responsibility and rights lingered for both. But the specifics are elusive. The children themselves—either as bound laborers or as free adults in later years— left little record of their eventual literacy, work accomplishments, and economic welfare. Still, as fragmentary as these records are, they can tell us something important about the lives of pauper apprentices once “out of their time.””

- Ruth Wallis Herndon and John E. Murray, ““A Proper and Instructive Educationʺ: Raising Children in Pauper Apprenticeship.” in Children Bound to Labor: The Pauper Apprentice System in Early America

#american #history #apprentices #servants #ruth wallis herndon #john e. murray #children bound to labor #children

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jawanaka · 4 years ago

Note

🌹🗣☂️ for the WIP ask 😊

Thank you for the ask!

I realized after i reblogged that post that I actually don't have a WIP so please forgive for cheating and using lines from my recently finished long-fic.

🌹 Share your most poetic line.

(Don't know if it counts as poetic but...)

From the painting, Fergus var Emreis smiled back at her, a sad little smile from a sad little man whose weaknesses would led to his family's near destruction and his only heir cast out into the wilderness, a cursed thing to be saved only by a kings folly and a princess's love.

Or so the story went. Sometimes when trying to merge the picture of the father she barely remembered with the one she actually had, Ciri was not so sure whether curses could truly be lifted.

🗣 Share your favorite dialogue exchange.

(got so many but going with this one)

“I ran with a gang once, did Geralt tell you? Down in Geso, smack dab in the middle of the Korath frontier, all while half of Nilfgaard were looking for me. Merry gang of young highwaymen we were. Thieves, murderers, brigands. We would ride were we wanted, take what we desired, kill anyone who protested. Sometimes we killed just for the cheer joy, the power.” Her fist clenched around the flower pedal. “I tried drinks aplenty, fisstech, elven drugs you wouldn’t believe but that power? Greatest high I’ve ever got.”

Triss stood still. “Geralt never told me.”

“That your little sister is a bona-fide murderer? A petty thief like those Morvran decorate the trees with? I suppose he didn’t.” She took a deep breath, air heavy in he lungs as she slowly unclenched her fist. “The point Triss, is that those people I rode with were damaged. Evil little bastards all but not from birth, well, not most of them. They were, what did you call the people in the Putrid grove, the refuse thrown up onto the docks. Only they ended up in Geso and instead of begging or selling their bodies for scraps they became the thing they feared. And so they did more evil and to kill them the local baron brought up a man you don’t even want to think about. And so it spreads. Thats the logic of empire.”

She looked up at the sorceress, green eyes meeting blue. “I can never atone for the things I did in Geso, no matter how many hospitals I open or orphanages I fund. But if I can avoid restarting the cycle again I will do everything in my power to stop it.”

Triss put her hands on her shoulders. “And I shall do what is within my power to help you. But if you take responsibility for every possible disaster in the empire your are going to spread yourself mighty thin.”

“I don’t know how to live any other way anymore. Avallac’h told me I was needed to save the world. I guess I never figured out how to live any other way.”

“Imperial logic is not the white frost.”

“Yet it is as merciless. And far more insidious.” Ciri said.

“Like Emhyr?”

“Possibly.”

☂️ Share your favorite description of an object.

The scroll was made of the finest vellum, it edges decorated with scarlet frills and in bold letter told that the bearer, Triss Merigold of Maribor, enchantress and graduate of the mage school of Aretuza, hero of Sodden and Undvik, savior of the mages of Novigrad, leader of the mage chapter of Kovir, had been appointed to the position of advisor to the viceroy of the northern territories, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, crown princess of Nilfgaard, followed by a galloping host of other titles. The document was punctuated by Ciri´s signature, as flowing and sharp as a witchers sword cut and her official seal, carrying the lions of Cintra and the great sun of Nilfgaard. The text was surrounded by exquisite black and golden scrollwork.

Thank you to @andordean for the lovely ask! The original ask to be found here

#my writing #asks #ciri #empress ciri

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pyreneese · 4 years ago

Text

A Trade

Rating: G. Implied major character death.

Day 11: Secrets

B had a secret that no one else in the orphanage did.

L’s name. L Lawliet.

Better than that, the secret ran deeper. He knew the exact day that L would die. He didn’t care much about his ‘mentor’, he just really liked knowing something that no one else did.

He sat in his cell, pondering how to go about revealing this secret that he’d held on to since he was young... the door opened and his breath caught. B whirled to face L, his heart thundering. L’s lips were pursed in distinct annoyance, having been called because apparently whatever B had to say was an emergency. They glared at each other, the events of the LABB case weighing heavily on both their minds.

B was the one to break the tense silence.

“Lawliet.”

L’s eyes widened a fraction, but he otherwise remained motionless. B took a cautious step towards the bars, his chin held up.

“That is your last name, and my concession so you know that what I’m about to say is true.”

“Oh?”

“I’d like to trade,” B whispered, “a secret for my freedom. It might even save your life.” Might change your number.

L bit the inside of his cheek. He’d always been careful about negotiating with prisoners. But B wasn’t just any prisoner. And as much as he’d like to deny it, L was definitely hooked the moment B uttered his name. No one besides Watari knew that name... not even Roger. It’d been destroyed in all official documentation, and L couldn’t help but wonder how the Hell this boy managed to find it.

His ultimate secret.

“I’m listening,” L breathed softly.

“I know when you’ll die,” B swallowed thickly, “I’ll tell you the date in exchange for my freedom.”

L barked a short laugh.

“What a joke. You could easily be lying and I’d be playing into your hand. If you tell me and I live, then how do I know that was even my death date in the first place?”

“That's a risk you’ll have to take,” B shook his head, “hopefully you’ll live. You can prepare. You need to start training successors as quickly as possible.”

L stared at him, trying to find the lie in the words.

“How do I know you’re not lying?” L said slowly, tilting his head.

“I suppose you don’t... but have it arranged that the day after you die, I’ll be freed. I’m giving you time to prepare, L. You can go right back to chasing me if you live and if you die, I’ll avenge you.”

L’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Very well.”

“November 5, 2004.”

Yeah, right. L rolled his eyes with a huff, shaking his head.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then you’re an even bigger fool than I thought.”

Instead of responding, L left, trying to push the date out of his brain. No. B lied all the time. And even if that was his death date, could he change it? Could he change fate? No... he didn’t even know if that was his fate! Ridiculous. B was using the fact that he knew L’s name to confuse him. To make him take unfair and one-sided deals. And once he was free, who knew what kind of havoc B would bring?

Still.

L made the proper arrangements. He had Watari commence Near and Mello in the advanced program. He set B’s release date for November 6. He couldn't believe he was doing this.

And then B died.

Just like that, by Kira’s hand.

And L was left to wonder again if this ‘secret’ had all been a trick. Surely if B could see death, then he could see his own, right? He felt forced to live as he always had, with the looming threat above him, trying to convince himself that he was smarter than this. That B’s prediction was nothing.

He was L Lawliet. He’d catch Kira, or die trying.

#deathnotetober #Death Note #L death note #fanfiction #day 11 #beyond birthday

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wedreamedlove · 5 years ago

Text

Bai Qi - Character Study

Archiving another post from Reddit. This one is more outdated...

This post was supposed to unleash my ode to Bai Qi, my one true love, onto the world though LOL.

Spoilers include up to Chapter 15. Plus calls, dates, and ASMR in CN server. Still using JP and CN as sources here because of Elex's translation issues.

I want to start this post off by saying that I disagree with Bai Qi's archetype being a "bad boy". If anything, he's just a lone wolf or maverick. Putting aside how there's another character that fits being a bad boy to a T, the common points of a bad boy archetype are:

exudes confidence, and allows his interests to take priority

moody and paradoxical, making him hard to understand

displays an attitude, has an edge, gives girls a vicious thrill

rebel with or without a cause

likely engages in dangerous hobbies

I don't know about you guys, but Bai Qi is REALLY simple. He has basically two goals in life: upholding (mostly conventional) justice and caring for the MC (who he has devoted his life to).

He's not rebellious for the sake of sticking it to the world, he just has his own views on how justice should be carried out (and it's still on the side of light; he's not a vigilante). Maybe his motorcycle is a dangerous hobby, except he always ensures MC is safe when riding with him. Honestly, this guy is so far from being a bad boy LOL.

Heck, even the other common trope of a bad boy having a painful past that is the reason behind their nasty attitude doesn't apply to Bai Qi because he confronts his painful past and gets over it (with the MC's help) before she even officially meets him.

CHIVALRY? CHAUVINIST?

First, let's tackle the big issue: the "sexist" things Bai Qi might say. It's an inescapable fact that this game is an Asian game and (given Elex's confusion over what to localize and how you can only change the base so much) this seeps through, so there are heavily gendered concepts.

However, it should also be noted that these games for women are usually made by women in the industry. Yes, there's internalized misogyny but this isn't it here.

Coming back to Bai Qi, you have to realize that he comes from a strict military family: his father is a lieutenant general [Campus Date] and was extremely harsh, meanwhile Bai Qi describes his mother as gentle and someone who cried in the shadows for him whenever his father went off on him [Seize: Sad Thoughts Call]. It paints the image of his mother being a dodder flower, the classic housewife.

Then, after his mother's death in high school when he was 15 years old [CN Character Profile], he went to join the special forces. Undoubtedly, this was another environment where he's surrounded by men and military ideals. And yet, through all of this, not only does he keep his own idea of justice, but he comes out WITHOUT looking down at women.

"Bai Qi is excellent and one day he will be the "sharp blade" of the special forces. The only pity is that he is too attached to the justice in his own heart, and he's blinded his own eyes. But at the same time I am looking forward to what direction his convictions will take him to." - Commander Leto

[CN Character Profile]

Gavin's character type is being the quintessential male.

But he's completely supportive of MC's work, helps her out with her production shows, and sends her to and from work whenever he has the time. He never disparages her work.

In [Seize: Sad Thoughts Call], there is a point where MC tells him that she'll always be by his side and he can rely on her. Bai Qi chuckles through his tears (ZHANG JIE! YOUR VOICE!!) and says "Silly, I'm a man. You should leave these sort of words to me. But, hearing you say this, makes me really happy."

I think it's doing Bai Qi a disservice to think he's being sexist here. Perhaps, you can feel sorry that this sort of standard of masculinity is something he upholds but I'd argue that he was making a joke to break up the heavy mood and he doesn't say ANYTHING about her not being allowed to say that. Instead, he's actually happy to hear that from her. He openly shows his emotions to her here about his past and sorrow. Again, considering his military upbringing and his mother, it's probably engraved in his bones to do his best to take care of his loved ones.

Look, some people just have dominant personalities and Bai Qi is one of them. He's probably one of the closest of the men to being classically masculine, but the way he's an enormous puppy for the MC breaks him out of the stereotype. (Like how Victor is the classical CEO, but his Souvenir side breaks him out of that stereotype).

Going along with, what I'd call his chivalrous (NOT chauvinist) attitude, is how natural his actions are in taking care of the MC and being considerate of her.

In [Photoshoot 5-7], MC drops her chopsticks and Bai Qi picks it up, gives her his, and wipes hers off before using it to eat.

In [Main Story 12-13], Bai Qi shows up on his motorcycle and passes her a pastel-colored helmet. Meaning that, not only did he consider her safety, but he also went out of his way to pick a color that he thought would suit her.

In [Wish Date], MC drops a plate and it shatters but just as she bends down to clean it up Bai Qi picks her up and moves her away.

In [Warm Palms ASMR], Bai Qi keeps MC comfort by sitting beside the bed on the ground to look over his documents. He doesn't assume he can just get on the bed and actually double-checks before he does.

In [Gentle Touch CN ASMR] Bai Qi is concerned about MC getting tired from standing on tiptoes to help him shave and tells her to stand on his feet. Later, he boosts her up onto the sink counter.

TRACKING BRACELET; PROTECTIVENESS

Tackling the second big issue: the tracking bracelet and Bai Qi's "overprotectiveness". Honestly, if anyone is overprotective in this game though it's definitely Li Zeyan LOL. Bai Qi may take second place, but that's still far below Li Zeyan.

Anyway, addressing the tracking bracelet first, I think it's interesting that, after Bai Qi gives MC the tracking bracelet in Chapter 2 and the events happen, he gives MC the [CH2 Story Call: Tracking Bracelet] and there he asks MC if she's at home. I don't know how the English version did it but in Chinese, after MC reminds him that he sent her home just an hour ago and did he forget, you hear him clear his throat awkwardly and then he says "Oh, I was just making sure. Don't go out anymore tonight." Hm, wouldn't he know she was at home already if he was using the tracking?

In [CH5 Story Call: Production Show Investigation] Bai Qi calls and asks "Are you home yet?". Hey, again, wouldn't he know if he was tracking her? He knows MC went to the orphanage and implies that he knows she went there because of the bracelet. But here's another thought: he was clearly investigating the old orphanage because he appears there later in Chapter 6 to save MC. So, perhaps he and the special forces already had surveillance on the old orphanage and the surrounding area.

In [Main Story 12-18] Bai Qi hears that MC is in the hotel and panics and asks the reception for her. If he was using the tracking bracelet, wouldn't he know exactly where she is? For something that everyone feels like he's violating MC's privacy with, he barely seems to use it for its actual function LOL.

It happens again in [Starry Date], although you can argue dates might be different, but MC pranks him in a call and, at the end, he asks her for the address of the karaoke place she's at so he can pick her up. If he was tracking her he wouldn't need to ask the address now, would he? She's definitely wearing the bracelet in dates because in [Trio Date] Bai Qi reminds her to have the bracelet on.

On a side note, I also find it interesting that he never FORCES the MC to wear the bracelet. In [Main Story 12-11] in Chinese he strokes the bracelet gently and then says "Remember to wear it". It's always said as a suggestion, as if he thinks that she does take it off at times but he doesn't press her to constantly wear it.

In [Main Story 15-4], Bai Qi reveals that even without the bracelet he can still find MC so it's not a tracking bracelet. I'm sure he thought implying that was the only way for him to give her that bracelet.

Now, regarding his protectiveness, he doesn't actually limit or cage the MC in anyway:

In [CH5 Story Call: Production Show Investigation] he suggests for her to avoid the orphanage but considering they meet again in Chapter 6, he clearly didn't do anything to stop her.

In [Photoshoot 5-1] MC has to interview a criminal and Bai Qi is there to escort her, but he doesn't stop her from going to meet the man. Because she's working and he knows better than to interrupt her.

In [Follow-Up Date], I agree that MC did something crazy by following him in, but he doesn't freak out at her afterward. He scolds her and whatnot but then calms down.

In [Seize: About Film Studio Call] Bai Qi picks MC up and removes her out of the shooting location because a bomb threat was called in. But he apologizes immediately when he realizes what he did, recognizing he was wrong for doing that, and actively works with MC and includes her into evacuating the rest of her employees.

In [Main Story CH12] Bai Qi brings MC to the special forces base and gets her involved with everything he's investigating after he gets permission. Heck, even when there was that rogue soldier, he just shuffles the MC into a corner and then goes to subdue the person.

Actually, in [Main Story 12-11] MC notes that this is the first time Bai Qi has said she's "forbidden" from going outside. This is when things get really crazy and Evols are going out of control, so it's not a surprise he wants her to stay put while he investigates the hotel. But this also shows that all the times before Bai Qi has never said anything forceful to MC and has only ever advised her not to wander around recklessly.

None of these are actions of a person who is crazily overprotective. Someone like that (cough Li Zeyan cough, at least until he calms down) would have locked her up in a room and kept her ignorant so she doesn't get any thoughts to run off and investigate things. Bai Qi tries his hardest to grant her wishes, within reason, and tries to answer any questions she has as long as he's free to do so. (And hey, no one talks about Li Zeyan's SP guard detail or Luoluo being able to track her through surveillance cameras; Xu Mo already got attacked for this so I won't bring the poor man up LOL).

Look, despite Bai Qi's maverick attitude, he still is part of a military organization and needs to follow orders. It makes sense too considering his military upbringing and no doubt, as long as it's not outrageous or touches his bottom line (the MC and sacrificing lives), he'll obey orders.

His joining of the special forces symbolizes the difference of his justice compared to his father. He will not give up on someone for any reason. If a sacrifice is necessary, then he will choose to face it alone.

[CN Character Profile]

But, anyway, he is protective to a certain degree and it's understandable considering how alone he's been since 15 years old and how in [Seize: Sad Thoughts Call] Bai Qi reveals that he feels like everyone he gets close to leaves him in the end (the death of his mother, his younger brother, his father (before he threw this man into the garbage bin where he belongs)).

He's also probably seen a lot of deaths of his comrades in the special forces. Heck, in [Main Story 12-6] Guzheng talks about a mission where the only people who survived was him and Bai Qi, and him only because Bai Qi came and saved him.

So, now that he's reunited with his one and only love again, you bet he's going to try and protect her. Not only is it in his blood, with his military upbringing, but also because he's just that sort of person. A trustworthy man who is determined to protect his loved ones without any sacrifices (or taking on all the sacrifices onto his own body).

HIS ENTIRE BEING IS ATTUNED TO MC

Okay, now that we got all the ugly things out of the way, this section is just for me to gush about what a gigantic soft puppy Bai Qi is with the MC. He's a tough, indifferent, lone wolf police on the streets, but an enormous puppy in the sheets in front of the MC.

Catch me crying every time over this Bai Qi Wish Date art by Honey Dogs because that's what Bai Qi is constantly doing everywhere. EVERYWHERE.

Like the art above shows, in [Wish Date] Bai Qi uses his third wish to stand in the corner and watch MC as she prepares his birthday meal. He's just a puppy who wants to be as close as possible! Watching his loved one! There's amazing description about the gentle smile in his eyes.

In [Prank Date] Bai Qi catches MC's eyes immediately when she just looks over at him across the room.

In [Follow-Up Date] Bai Qi saw MC trying to give him something, before that policewoman came up and tried to give him food and scared off MC.

In [Main Story 12-13] Bai Qi is just standing outside but he spins around the moment MC comes out of her building as if he sensed her. His eyes also creases when he smiles at her.

In [Main Story 7-4] when MC bumps into Bai Qi at their school, she sees him just standing there with his hands in his pocket and quietly watching her. A smile surfaces in his eyes when they accidentally ask each other why the other is here at the same time and then he waits for her to continue first.

In [Makeup Challenge CN ASMR] Bai Qi reveals that he watches MC put on her makeup quite a bit. He doesn't get all the products right, and he doesn't know what they're all for, but he gets a gold star for trying LOL. I'm just imagining Honey Dog art again with him leaning against the bathroom door watching MC with heart eyes. But also, when he takes her into an area with more light to put on her makeup, he just spends some time looking into her eyes because they're pretty in the light.

In [His Fingertips CN ASMR] Bai Qi notices that MC has pierced her ears. She did it to match him and the affection in his sigh as he calls her silly. SOBS. He also decides to get her matching earrings as a gift next time instead of a bracelet. On another note, in his birthday stroll, MC and him end up getting her clip-on earrings. CUTE.

In [Gentle Touch CN ASMR] Bai Qi is again over the moon with seeing her at such a close distance when she's helping him shave. He's also a gigantic puppy nuzzling her hand when she checks her work by smoothing her palms across his jaw.

In [Caressing His Face CN ASMR] Bai Qi again reveals that he watches MC go about her bathroom rituals. He sees the skincare she puts on her skin and, although not knowledgeable, is totally game with letting her play by putting it on him. AGAIN, with the nuzzling, because her hands feel too nice.

Don't touch me I'm so tender for how concentrated Bai Qi's attention is on the MC whenever she's around. Honestly, the way he's so openly honest and genuine about his feelings for the MC is what strikes him out for the bad boy archetype.

SHORTCOMINGS

Anyway, to be fair, we have to look at some of Bai Qi's shortcomings and "flaws" now. Bai Qi isn't perfect. Heck, no one is, which is what makes these characters feel complex and developed. However, his shortcomings or flaws certainly don't make him a toxic person (or else, we'd all be toxic people with our idiosyncrasies that other people don't like, lol).

Bai Qi can be really rude to people who aren't the MC. Not to mention, he tends to resort to violence and threats to people he really, really doesn't care about.

In [Relieving Date] Bai Qi tells the people who were hitting on the MC to scram unless they want to be beaten to a pulp.

In [Slightly Drunken Date] Bai Qi tells the bassist to take his beer and leave if he doesn't want his arm broken.

In [Moments] I believe Bai Qi nearly threw (or did throw) Minor over his shoulder when he was touched on the back? Minor also, at one point, says that Bai Qi nearly punched him a few times or something?

Fortunately, he doesn't go overboard with his force. But I can totally see how some people wouldn't be impressed with someone who chooses violence as an answer or threat. I'm totally a-okay with this, but then again I think characters with body counts are attractive so I'm not one to speak about this being a positive thing LOL.

But, despite being rude, he knows when to draw a distinction and be professional. For example, in [Follow-Up Date], he treated the policewoman with the bare minimum courtesy, despite being indifferent. He chews her out for endangering people in the field, but he doesn't do anything more than that.

In [Campus Date], it's shown that he beat up and got beaten up in high school, although those people sounded like they were part of a gang, so it wasn't like they were upstanding citizens LOL. However, there was that kid who stole the cash register money and got beaten up by Bai Qi, who then took the money to spend on something he wanted. This surprised me since he ends up working with the police and special forces to uphold justice, but well I'll just paste a section in his profile here:

Bai Qi has many informant friends that belong in the gray zone, and he often breaks what's known as the rules of convention. He uses methods that don't look so "just" to achieve his goals. Because of this, there's many people who can't understand him and feel that his actions are inappropriate. Towards all these misunderstandings, Bai Qi doesn't bother to explain and doesn't care. Even if no one understands, he will use his own ways to protect his convictions.

[CN Character Profile]

He's not squeaky clean, but I'd say he still stands mostly on the morally upright side (cough maverick archetype cough). In fact, he's a huge proponent for the preciousness of life and I guess almost how everyone has an inherent worth in them, which is ironic considering how little he applies it to himself. But, hey, it's normal to have different standards for other people compared to yourself.

Anyway, moving on, Bai Qi's protectiveness over the MC CAN get the better of him, but he apologizes immediately. I mentioned it above already but in [Seize: About Film Studio Call] Bai Qi apologizes for his actions of forcibly removing the MC to protect her.

Continuing on, because I see it brought up, there's the opinion that Bai Qi lacks personality because he has no opinions when it comes to MC. I'm going to argue here that this focus is on the wrong thing.

Bai Qi has a LOT of opinions (such as how best to protect MC, etc.) but his personality is the type not to care about what he considers "small details" which is why he's content to let MC make the decisions on what to eat (because he has no strong preference for food) and do the things she finds fun.

Actually, in [Your Loving Eyes: The Best Gift Call] MC is trying to get Bai Qi a present, but he just says "Sure" to everything she suggests until MC chides him saying "Hey, why is everything good? When did you lose your opinion?". In Chinese, you can hear Bai Qi respond with a startled and amused "Really?". It's clear that he doesn't believe this is the case either.

It's completely fine for that not to be your thing (which is why we have three other eligible bachelors), but it's reading Bai Qi's character wrong to think this makes him have no personality.

You can even see in [Moments], that Bai Qi does arrange for some outings, such as taking MC out to the arcade to play games. He also suggests going to look at the stars a lot, because he's an astronomy boy.

Hobbies #2: Astronomy. He likes the stars, and once did some research on them. He also really enjoys soaring through the night sky, the feeling of looking up at the stars, and Jupiter.

[CN Character Profile]

However, despite this not being that big of a deal in my eyes, Bai Qi and MC do get development in this area which is what makes their relationship so nice. A HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP. Cough, sorry I had to get that out.

In [CN SSR Crisis: Art of Speaking Call] Bai Qi is taking MC out on a date and she is conflicted over what shoes to wear, the hair clip to use, and the purse to bring. She asks him for his opinion, but he keeps saying that they're all good, as long as she likes it. But MC gets annoyed and tells him that it sounds like he's being perfunctory and doesn't care.

This takes him aback and he hurriedly tells her that wasn't his intention. He genuinely thinks those things. But he realizes that she does want to hear his opinion, so he strives to give her a choice, even if it barely makes a difference for him because he thinks she looks good in everything. The two end up promising to not say any "sure" or "whatever" that day, so that they answer each other with an opinion.

In [SSR Heat up: Pretty Boy Call], you also see Bai Qi getting called out for answering "whatever" to everything. He immediately works to correct his opinion and says he'll wear whatever she picks.

Honestly, the reason he's so happy to go along with MC is explained in his [Mediterranean Date] where he literally says "The missed holidays, the dates I couldn't make, and the many times I had to disappear without being able to tell you... I've never had the time to make up for all of these things. So, no matter what we do, no matter where we go, as long as the person beside me is you, I won't have a single objection.".

Lastly, I think the real issue with Bai Qi is that he has a terrible sense of self-worth. It doesn't express itself in him being timid or not confident, but in the way he's reckless with his own health. ESPECIALLY when it comes to the MC.

In [Campus Date] there's a line that goes "She probably didn't know that her piano saved the youth who was about to fall into an abyss of darkness, and she had no way of knowing that this youth swore to protect her with his entire life". On one hand, romantic, on the other hand... oh boy, Bai Qi has really devoted his life to the MC and he's a man who doesn't change his stance once he decides on something, and here are some instances:

In [Endless Abyss: Beside You Call] Bai Qi comes back from a mission and decides to send MC to work. He just came back from a mission and hasn't slept for an entire day, but he wants to see her because she remarked on how they haven't seen each other for a while and he feels the same. HELLO? SIR PLEASE SLEEP.

In [Bleary Dawn CN ASMR] Bai Qi has two instances of this. First, he's cuddling in bed with MC and thinks about how he should get out and go for a morning jog, but he doesn't want to leave her. MC is worried he'll catch a cold in the rain, but he says he won't since it's a light drizzle. However, MC gets upset at that and you can hear the genuine apology in his voice when he realizes that she's worried about him.

Second instance, in [Bleary Dawn CN ASMR] is when they chat about whether Bai Qi has ever slept in. His family didn't allow that (SCREW HIS FATHER) and then he joined the military so even less so. He never feels sleepy though since he sleeps early. However, if he can't sleep then he just goes through the entire night without sleeping. MC worries about him, he tries to brush it off again saying it's no problem, she gets upset, and he startles and gets genuinely apologetic again. SOBS please Bai Qi learn to treasure yourself.

In [Main Story 12-11] Bai Qi gets injured when he was subduing the out-of-control Evol soldier, but he doesn't seem to even notice it until MC brings it up and wants to treat it for him at her house. He even reluctantly shows her his arm.

It's understandable because his DOUCHE FATHER has treated him terribly throughout his life. In [Campus Date] we get a memory from Bai Qi about his father literally saying "Such a useless thing has no point in existing". Ever since his mother passed away (at age 15!) he's been alone.

Fortunately, like I mentioned at the start, Bai Qi gets over most of this trauma in [Campus Date] with the help of MC. But the marks still linger and it's not until he's 24 years old at [Main Story 12-18] where he asserts that his existence is absolutely not a disgrace/stain that he fully gets over his father's specter. Still, Bai Qi's pretty reckless with his health.

Anyway, both MC and Bai Qi need to realize that the best thing you can do for your loved ones is to take care of yourself, because your happiness and health is their happiness and health. Support each other, but treating yourself well for them is the best thing to do.

CONCLUSION

Overall, while Bai Qi is a lone wolf and maverick in public, he's the sweetest puppy around the MC. He's terribly reckless with his health (he's been trained to be a weapon and, no doubt, his father still haunts him), but he's slowly overcoming that with the MC. She also encourages him to be more expressive of his opinions, no matter how small or insignificant he feels they are (re: the things he really couldn't care less about).

In return, he gives MC courage to walk her own path no matter what anyone else says. His easy confidence and ability to ignore the gaze of the world is something that's admirable.

The two of them just provide each other unconditional love and support and it's gorgeous. She can act however she wants with him and he'll take it in stride and accept her. He doesn't want her to change, and neither does she for him. But together they encourage each other to express their opinions and feelings to each other more.

Anyway, congratulations to anyone who read all the way down to this point. You deserve a Bai Qi SSR and may you be blessed with Bai Qi pulls---. I also hope this provides a better understanding of Bai Qi and more appreciation for his character.

I didn't touch on Bai Qi's hobbies or character apart from the MC much, unfortunately, because the focus of this post was about his relationship with MC and his character around that. But, trust me, he has a lot of hobbies for himself! He's just low-key in the way he expresses those (cause he's too loud in beaming heart eyes at the MC), so it's like a "blink and you miss it".

His official weibo shows a ton of his hobbies though, like taking care of his (eternally dying) cacti. He has a hedgehog! He loves basketball (and other sports). He plays the guitar and sings. He loves astronomy.

#love and producer #mlqc meta #mr love queen's choice #mlqc gavin #mlqc bai qi #mlqc #love and produc(ing) meta

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