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bamgyw · 1 year ago

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˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ the first night ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

flee from sexual immorality. every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against his own body. - 1 corinthians 6:18

warnings: nothing too smutty yet. suggestive, let's call it that. mentions of abuse and violence. a/n: i'm realising it’s a little slow burn but that's better for the tension building. there's fingering in the next part, just bear with me. also, might be corny at times. i dunno. sorry. this is a part of a longer work ♡ go to the beginning here

soobin's room was a shithole. it had a correctional feel, with sparse furniture and an austere, almost monastic approach to decorations –not one poster, not one framed picture, not one item that didn't have a practical utility– as if he hadn't had an interest in his life.

it freaked beomgyu out how clean it was, and how earnest; everything that was worth seeing could be spotted with a single glance. simple. soobin had shamelessly exposed the stark core of his existence, that is, a plain wall and the depressive charm of a victorian orphanage.

the mattress was rigid, too. unbending. it defeated the whole purpose, beomgyu thought. it irritated him, that someone would make a mattress so hard it was almost a prank item, and that someone else would be stupid enough to buy it. he was sure soobin’s stepfather thought it built character, or some bullshit of the sort.

beomgyu lay there, sprawled out like a starfish, staring up at the ceiling. he couldn’t sleep. not a wink. his stomach was killing him, or maybe it was his liver, or his kidneys – hell, he couldn’t tell anymore. everything just ached, like his whole body was one big bruise.

his dad hadn't just kicked him out. that would have been too kind. no, his dad had kicked him out after beating the shit out of him. real old-school, no-holds-barred kind of beating.

half of his internal organs might have been bleeding out in that moment, but whatever. beomgyu, stubborn as he was, refused to go to the hospital. he hated the clinics, the cold tools, the patronising doctors. he could already picture them, their eyes widening as they examined him, enumerating the parts of his body that were just about to give up. if he was dying, he really didn't wanna know.

they would ask who had done that to him, and if he was sure he didn’t want to press charges. as if. as if he could ever bring himself to do that.

he couldn’t sue his father, he never would. even if his body was falling apart and in ruins. it was their thing. the beatings, the fights. the twisted ritual that kept them tied together. to snitch on his dad would be to betray him, to shatter the only fragile bond they had left.

so there he was, sleepless in soobin’s room, rolling around in the concrete mattress helplessly, restlessly, until he got so bored he couldn’t stand it anymore.

the room was dark and quiet, the kind of quiet that presses down on you, heavy and suffocating. he needed to get up, to do something, anything to distract himself from the pain and the mess in his head.

he decided to go to the kitchen. maybe a glass of water would help, or at least give him something to do. as he got up from the bed, he didn’t worry too much about waking soobin. he knew he very rarely slept. he needed to be alert every second, like closing his eyes would make him too vulnerable.

that was one of the things that fascinated beomgyu about him—how soobin carried that crippling anger with him everywhere, but he never complained, never erupted. if beomgyu’s dad hit him, beomgyu would hit back, an eye for an eye. but when soobin’s stepdad hit soobin, he would just stand there, stiff and quiet like an ancient tree, never saying a word in some militaristic vow of silence.

the hallway was eerily quiet as beomgyu made his way downstairs, each step echoing in the stillness of the night. he moved cautiously, aware of how the house breathed around him, the creaks and groans of the old wood floors amplifying in the nothingness. he didn’t mind the silence though; it gave him space to think, to let his mind wander even as his body throbbed with pain.

he still tried to make as little noise as possible. the last thing he needed was for soobin’s stepdad to wake up and find him rummaging through the kitchen. that man already had a hair-trigger temper, and beomgyu didn’t need another beating tonight. he moved like a shadow, each step calculated, avoiding the spots he knew would creak the loudest.

reaching the kitchen, a thought crossed his mind. if he was lucky, he might just figure out where soobin’s stepdad kept the expensive whiskey. the good stuff, the kind that could numb the pain, at least for a while. he knew he had a hidden stash no one could access, soobin had told him. it was a small, fleeting hope, but it was something to do. a quest to keep him entertained.

slowly, he eased open each cupboard in the kitchen, the hinges protesting with a drawn-out creak. he peered inside, squinting to make out the shapes in the dark.

but a fleeting glimmer caught his eye, halting his breath for a moment. someone, two eyes in the dark. he gasped, startled. he only began to calm down when his eyes started to make out the shape. he cursed at himself for being too jumpy. it was just one of those ceramic figures of virgin and child.

he looked around the room. his eyes had become used to the dark enough for him to guess the shilhouettes. anywhere he looked there was a porcelain veiled lady carrying her holy baby, an agonising jesus on the cross, some martyr saint immortalised in art with the object that gave them death.

everywhere blood, everywhere tears, everywhere fire, swords and stained white cloths. he couldn’t see them properly in the gloom, but the white of the eyes fixated on him so eerily it felt assaultive.

"fucking hell," beomgyu breathed out. that room was like a souvenir store at the vatican. soobin’s stepdad had amassed religious imagery with borderline obsession.

he must want redemption really bad, beomgyu thought. he must have done something unforgivable and now he's trying to buy his way into heaven with catholic merchandise.

the watchful gazes and the silent judgement were starting to weigh down on him, and he was about to give up, thinking maybe he’d better just head back to bed. but in a sudden, careless movement, he turned around and bumped into something soft and warm. a body of flesh. the stepsister.

in a split second, he realized the situation and acted purely on instinct. his hand shot out and clamped over your mouth, muffling any potential scream that might shatter the silence. "don't yell, please don't yell... i'm soobin’s friend." his voice was a harsh whisper, almost a plea. slowly, cautiously, he reached out and flicked on the light switch, still keeping his hand firmly over your mouth. "don't be scared." he murmured, more to himself than to you.

as the light finally flickered to life, it illuminated the room with a harsh, revealing glow. he saw you for the first time.

fuck. his breath caught in his throat. slowly, he released his grasp. he almost felt sorry to have touched you. like he could've stained you, somehow. like he was a foul moth and you were the sunlight.

it all made sense now. why your father guarded you so closely, as if he was keeping something holy. this was the secret they had shielded him from, the thing they didn't want to share—soobin and the stepdad. the face of a doll, with moonlit eyes and sugared strawberry lips, sweet enough to taste. an angel of a girl.

"you're not a kid," he breathed out, the words almost a whisper of disbelief.

you remained silent, standing there, paralysed like a scared rabbit ready to bolt. your instinct to flee would get triggered at the minimum movement from him. he could see that, but he couldn't fight the force –call it divine, call it gravitational– that kept pulling him towards you.

he reached for your hand, and you tried to get away. but he was quicker, seizing your wrist firmly. it didn't hurt, though. he was tender with his grasp. you weren’t used to that. with the slightest pull you could've freed yourself, but you chose not to.

"please, stay with me for a bit," he said, his voice almost as gentle as his touch. "talk to me."

you should’ve flinched. you should’ve yanked your hand away and stormed up to your room, locking the door behind you. but you didn’t. you allowed his grasp on your wrist to shift, to evolve at beomgyu’s will until the handcuffed enclosement turned into his hand sweetly holding yours.

"why?" was the only thing you could muster.

"because i can't sleep," he said, the words falling from his lips. ‘and because i want to look at you forever, christ.’ he thought before calmly adding, "my brain... it thinks too much at night. doesn't come up with the most pleasant thoughts, either. everything's too silent."

"that means you feel guilty." you said.

"yeah," he nodded. he was feverish. thirsty. "exactly."

"i feel like that too," you said. “sometimes.”

beomgyu thought he was going insane. that you weren't even real. some imaginary angel his mind had made up to comfort him just a little. it was the house, he thought, it was like an asylum. the light was too bright, too white. everywhere he looked, jesus christ or the virgin mary would return his gaze. the whole place was designed to keep him away from you, he thought, paranoid. but you didn't fit there. you felt warm and honeyed and lovely. you just didn't belong.

your hand was in his, as secure and mellow as your connected gazes, and he would rather die than let go of it. but he took his other hand up to your face, caressing your cheek with the back of it. it was scorching hot, rosy pink and glazed like an apple.

“you’re very pretty.” he mumbled, almost a purr.

“you can’t say that.”

“beautiful eyes, too.” he said. “sad.”

"my dad doesn't hesitate to hurt people." you said, trying to warn him away. you felt too cozy under his touch to push him yourself.

"i don't care what happens to me." beomgyu said, letting his hand travel to your neck, your hair, your cheek again. he would explore as far as you allowed him to. "but i wouldn't want him to hurt you."

"then leave." you said. but you didn't care what happened to you, either. he could see it in the worry of your eyes. it wasn't a fear for yourself, it was an all-embracing need to protect.

beomgyu shook his head slightly. "i’ll take the blame."

"he will say i brought it upon myself. that i looked for it." you said. "he’ll call me the whore of babylon and make me suffer for it."

you didn't seem as frightened as you seemed certain. not a lost bunny, not the distressed victim. you were aware of your actions and their consequences, intellectually and matter-of-factly. and for the first time in his life, beomgyu held something beautiful and felt not the need to destroy, but to save.

"your daddy can try." he said. "i have a dad of my own, and i know how they are. it’s just hubris. don't be so scared of a man who collects figurines of jesus christ like they're funko pops. he's the one who's terrified, don't you see?"

you smiled slightly, and he liked it so much. how the formerly strained and full of fear muscles of your face relaxed into that adorable grin. how he had done that to you. he was so satisfied, so proud of himself for getting an angel to smile. he wanted to do that forever.

he tried to stop himself from staring at you, fearing you'd get intimidated under his hungry gaze. that you'd fear him. but he couldn't quit. you were his new thirst, his desire unlimited, a beautiful wet dream standing right in front of him.

that stupid white nightdress was giving him such a hard time, too. the two necklaces you wore, so pretty and delicate. the first one, fastened and secured close to your neck was the pearls. he didn't know if they were real or not, he was just some brute before a siren. second was the rosary beads in rose mother-of-pearl, loosely draping over your chest to fall under the fabric of the nightwear, wickedly hidden from beomgyu’s sight.

he assumed they were the kind jewel you never took off. he liked the idea. they seemed so easy to pull on, to hang on to. so ornamental over a naked body. so fucking pretty.

his hand travelled up to the rosary beads, almost with a brain of its own. you swiftly moved your own hand over his to stop him, but you ended up softening your grip and letting him do as he pleased.

“do you sleep with these on?” he asked, softly. "it’s dangerous, you know? you could choke."

“i take them off.” you said. “i just wasn’t going to bed yet. i can't sleep lately. like you.”

of course. you were just like him. morphed by your hostile environment into a broken half-human. an incomplete being, hollow. but still so beautiful and gentle. unlike him. he had felt his void with hatred, while you had maintained yours clean and unpolluted. he wanted to fill it with kisses, with caresses, with words of praise.

he began to lean in.

your breath hitched. he was so handsome, painfully so. plump lips, elegant cheeckbones. you liked him. you wanted to keep looking at him, to have your hand reach for his face and feel his skin, too. you wanted to never stop him from leaning in and to let him kiss you.

but the realization of it all sent a wave of panic through you, because you knew you couldn’t—shouldn’t—like him. you got away. "i really should leave," you said, but it came out more like a whisper, more like a plea.

still holding the beads, he took his hand to your cheeks again. you leaned in to his touch a little, but you didn't give in completely. you had led a life of strict restrain and soldierlike discipline. you had the willpower of a hundred trained armies.

yet that didn't make it hurt less to let him go. you grabbed his hand and put it down with a slight shaking of your head.

“please,” he begged one last time.

you began to walk back while facing him, as if to make sure he wouldn’t follow after you. beomgyu's heart ached with each step you took away from him, his fingers curling into fists at his sides as he watched you disappear into the shadows.

but a stupid thought, impulsive and idiotic came to you. in daddy’s house —the house of god— it was the type of idea that could get you killed. you swiftly approached him, almost unnoticeably, like a ghost. when you found yourself before him, you tiptoed slightly. you pecked his cheek. then you disappeared.

"good night," beomgyu whispered into the dark. he felt a pang of emptiness, like that feeling after a good dream slips away in the morning.

before his mom left, she used to take him to the ballet. he remembered a specific one in that moment. la sylphide. mom had loved that one. he felt like the lead, a man whose name he couldn't remember, kissed in the night by some magical being but waking up to nothing but her memory.

he was spaced out as he headed back to soobin's room, lost in his own thoughts. pushing the door open, he found soobin sitting up on the bed with the night lamp casting shadows over his unreadable face.

"why're you still up?" soobin asked him, his tone as flat as the mattress.

"just grabbed some water," beomgyu replied, keeping it simple.

"is everything alright?"

beomgyu gave a nod, not really knowing how to approach the subject. if he should even talk about it, if he would be capable of speaking without giving out too much. he slipped under the covers, giving soobin a subtle signal to switch off the light. and just as the room started to dim, he spoke into the darkness. "i saw your sister."

soobin's strained response came out after an exaggerated stretch of silence. "she's not my sister," he muttered.

beomgyu let the quiet hang for a beat before muttering; "well, she’s beautiful.”

soobin said nothing. the rustle of sheets is all that broke the silence as he rolled on his side, facing away from beomgyu. in the stillness, beomgyu drifted off into sleep, like touched by a divine calmness. soobin, however, remained awake.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ next part

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ none of you have let me know if you think reading about booty sex is gross yet

#we're working up to it please just hold it #i stan our attention spans we got this team #incoming depression sex yay !!#beomgyu #beomgyu angst #txt smut #beomgyu smut #txt hard thoughts #beomgyu hard thoughts #beomgyu x reader #txt x reader #beomgyu fic

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stillness-in-green · 3 months ago

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On Child Abuse and Todoroki Touya

Being a response to this ask:

First, anon, I'd like to thank you for coming at the question of Touya's victimhood in such an honest, open spirit of curiosity. I've seen no shortage of people who, in not understanding why people call Touya a child abuse victim, flip over into belligerence and scorn, which is just no kind of tack to take about such a sensitive topic!

That said, child abuse is a broad, broad, broad topic, and not one I’m exceptionally well-read on, but I’ll try to hit the highlights as to why people—myself included—say Touya was a such a victim. Forgive me if anything I say sounds too basic and therefore condescending; that’s not my intention, I just don’t want to assume your knowledge on anything, as you say you haven’t personally encountered abuse before. If you’re very curious to learn more, there’s no shortage of resources out there, including just starting on Wikipedia’s articles on Child Abuse and Emotional Abuse and going from there.

(Sincerely, and speaking from my own experience, I would recommend everyone do at least some cursory reading on non-physical forms of abuse; it’s much better to know what the red flags are when you first start seeing them than have to enumerate them all only in retrospect. Like, if absolutely nothing else, take five minutes to do an image search for the Power and Control Wheel and look it over.[1])

1: Do note that the P&E wheel was developed in the 1980s, based off of a series of focus group discussions about the shared experiences between women being abused by their male partners. Because of that origin, in the original and still widely replicated version, there’s a segment about “abusing privilege” that doesn’t—because it was never designed to—take into account intersectionality, abuse between same-gendered partners, or women abusing men. More modern versions have attempted to modify the wheel for more general purpose, gender-neutral education about abuse. I find it to be a valuable introductory tool, but it's not a universal authority and shouldn't be treated as such.

Obviously, trigger warnings for discussion of child abuse generally and Touya and the rest of the kids’ situations specifically below the jump.

Introduction

So, the big big thing to keep in mind here is that abuse is not limited to physical violence or sexual abuse. Abuse can take all sorts of forms, even outside of intimate partner relationships: abuse of power, medical or professional abuse, spiritual abuse, financial abuse, and so on. Any list you care to look up of “types of abuse” can be quite long, depending on how granular the list-writers feel like being or who their target audience is. There’s also a great deal of overlap in types and terminology, so some sources will only include a few umbrella terms, whereas others will be much more extensive.

For example, a list identifying forms of abuse aimed at women is going to focus on different things than one about abuse aimed at the elderly, or children, or forms of institutionalized abuse (not to be confused with abuse taking place in institutional settings!). No one much talks about financial abuse when detailing different forms of child abuse, but it would be a major point of discussion for domestic or elder abuse. Comparatively, an exploration of domestic partner abuse may include neglect as a subtype of psychological/emotional abuse, whereas a similar explanation of child abuse will likely include it as a category unto itself.

Looking specifically at child abuse, Wikipedia explains that, depending on your sources, the term “child abuse” may or may not be used synonymously with “child maltreatment.” If they’re considered separate terms, then “child abuse” is considered one subtype, with the other subtype being “child neglect.” If abuse and maltreatment are used interchangeably, then neglect is a subtype of abuse.

More specific definitions and legislation about them vary hugely from place to place based on cultural standards, leeway given based on intentionality,[2] and how provable any given act might be based on clear evidence of harm.

2: As an example, a single parent whose child is suffering malnutrition because they’re living below the poverty line and can’t afford regular, nutritious meals is going to be regarded differently than a financially stable married couple who are actively choosing to spend their money on other things while letting their child go hungry.

Here are some definitions Wikipedia gives, as offered by various relevant organizations and laws:

The World Health Organization (WHO) defines child abuse and child maltreatment as "all forms of physical and/or emotional ill-treatment, sexual abuse, neglect or negligent treatment or commercial or other exploitation, resulting in actual or potential harm to the child's health, survival, development or dignity in the context of a relationship of responsibility, trust or power." In the United States, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) uses the term child maltreatment to refer to both acts of commission (abuse), which include "words or overt actions that cause harm, potential harm, or threat of harm to a child", and acts of omission (neglect), meaning "the failure to provide for a child's basic physical, emotional, or educational needs or to protect a child from harm or potential harm". The United States federal Child Abuse Prevention and Treatment Act defines child abuse and neglect as, at minimum, "any recent act or failure to act on the part of a parent or caretaker which results in death, serious physical or emotional harm, sexual abuse or exploitation" or "an act or failure to act which presents an imminent risk of serious harm".

(From Wikipedia's article on child abuse)

Note how many references there are in that chonky paragraph to neglect and emotional harm. That view of abuse is why pretty much everyone who calls Touya a victim of child abuse is using abuse as the umbrella term that includes neglect, so that’s the tack I’ll be taking here as well. Even if I were considering abuse and neglect separately, though, there are several things Touya is subjected to that should be considered abuse in that more active sense!

There are two big category terms that I’d say are relevant to Touya's experience, both of which are recognized forms of child maltreatment: child neglect and emotional/psychological abuse. You can make an argument for physical abuse as well, though it’s clearly not as extensive as what Shouto or Rei endured. I’ll touch on each of those, as well as point to some of the damage experts predict in victims of those forms of abuse that—intentionally or not on Horikoshi’s part—we do see in Touya/Dabi.

Child Neglect

The physical markers of child neglect are things like inadequate nutrition or shelter, but there are a number of other dimensions as well—some quite severe psychological damage can be done by e.g. a parent who regularly ignores their infant child crying. The same World Health Organization report Wikipedia quoted above noted that emotional neglect can be characterized by “a lack of nurturance, encouragement, and support.” A UK report from the same year included in its definition of neglect, “neglect of, or unresponsiveness to, a child’s basic emotional needs.”

The Wikipedia article itself includes a table listing types of child neglect with various (I assume hypothetical) example cases, among which is “emotional neglect,” described thusly: Guardian or parent give inadequate nurturing or affection. The parent or guardian fails to create an environment where the child feels secure, loved, wanted, worthy, etc.

So how does that all relate to Touya?

Touya seems at first glance to have been getting love and support aplenty in his youth—Enji supported him, was training him, raising him to be a Hero. The family was doing okay at that point. Rei had Fuyumi because she wanted another child,[3] and while Enji, too, still “yearned” for a child with his ideal quirk combination—which he already knew neither Touya nor Fuyumi possessed!—the two of them nonetheless stopped, for a time, with Fuyumi and Touya.

3: Because multiple children could encourage each other, per Endeavor’s characterization of Rei’s stated desires. I note that this is pretty much the same reasoning AFO gave Shimura Kotarou about having another child, just absent the calculated Hero bashing—children should have siblings so they can help each other out. With the way the endgame went, I confess myself shocked that neither Rei nor her parents turned out to be on AFO’s payroll.

The specifics of the timeline are illustrative here. Touya and Fuyumi are only eleven months apart in age, meaning Fuyumi was conceived only two months after Touya’s birth. Comparatively, Fuyumi was closing in on three years old by the time Natsuo was conceived! So, whatever his private desires, at that point in time, Enji was willing to abide, to trust his ambitions to Touya without continuing to try for a child closer to his ideal.

Crucially, at this juncture, Touya wanted exactly the situation he was in! He was thrilled to have this commonality with his father, whom he clearly adored, and unlike Shouto later on, didn’t find Enji’s expectations to be any sort of burden or source of stress. So while you could (and I will) still criticize the dynamic based on Enji’s ulterior motives, Touya’s lived experience was very happy.

Sidebar: Would that happiness have lasted? I don’t know. Enji’s support of Touya was so plainly conditional; there are so many things that could have disrupted it even if Touya’s health problems had never surfaced and Natsuo and Shouto were never born at all. What if Touya decided he wanted to pursue a different path when he got older? What if his youthful enthusiasm curdled into pridefulness and conceit in ways that made him fare poorly in the Hero Billboard charts? What if he struggled in school and couldn’t get into UA? Assuming that he couldn't surpass All Might within just a few short years of his debut, what would happen when All Might retired after Kamino with neither Endeavor nor [whatever Touya would have chosen for his Hero name] ever surpassing him? Myself, I tend to think that it’s unlikely that Enji and Rei would have stopped at two kids long-term anyway. Even if things had continued going well, Enji’s hope for his idealized quirk combined with Rei’s willingness to have more children in the hopes of having a happy, mutually supportive household would probably have led them to having more children eventually. Perhaps Touya wouldn’t have taken it so badly, if he weren’t already reeling from Enji’s rejection, but Shouto's existence would always have created complications in the dynamic because I don’t think Enji could have resisted starting to focus on what he would have seen as Shouto’s greater potential, and Touya surely would have noticed. In any case, something would always have happened because Enji’s ambitions, not any of his individual children’s responses to those ambitions, were the rot at the heart of the Todoroki family.

That happiness was based on a bad foundation, so it was always likely to crack. Touya’s health issues just revealed what was already there: that Enji saw his children as vessels for his ambition, and when they couldn’t fill that role, he functionally discarded them.

This was emotionally catastrophic for Touya because, again, he adored his father and desperately wanted a relationship with him, but Enji did not provide him with any kind of alternative framework for a relationship outside of “be a Hero that can fulfill my ambition.”

Now, did Enji just casually toss him aside without a second glance? No, of course not. He didn’t even immediately start trying to have kids again! He had enough invested in Touya that he did spend a while getting medical opinions and seeking out advice in hopes of “salvaging” Touya’s prospects; we see as much on the page.

(Honestly, the doc says this is unusual, but given the increasing diversity of quirks, how “unusual” could it possibly be? I would think issues like this would be quite common! What were the odds of Bakugou inheriting his father’s combustive sweat without also getting his father’s immunity to those combustions, for example?)

For Touya, though, the shift was obvious. Enji stopped spending time with him; they didn’t have anything to do together if it wasn’t training. Instead, his father started being harsher, raising his voice when he spoke to Touya, telling him that this was for his own good. All that affection and support, gone overnight.

(Note the jaggedness of Enji’s first talk bubble, and the lingering sharp corners to his second one, and compare them both to the smooth, rounded talk bubbles in the dojo scene or the doctor's analysis above.)

There did seem to be a period in which Enji tried to convince Touya to give up on the Hero goal, but Touya didn't care about being a Hero for its own sake; he cared about it because it was the only source of pride or connection Enji provided. He was asking Touya to give up the one thing Touya knew Enji valued, and that also meant giving up the thing that represented their bond. Touya loved him and didn’t want to give that bond up, so he kept stubbornly trying to push his way through, insisting he could handle it.

We have no evidence that Enji ever managed to get into words that he’d love Touya regardless of whether or not Touya could surpass All Might, but even if he did, Touya clearly didn’t believe him—and why would he, given that it’s obvious that was still Enji’s priority? If Touya was still loved either way, why did his bonding time with his dad dry up overnight? Why was his dad still obsessing over news reports about All Might? And, most importantly, why would his parents start trying to have children again?

Enji’s most important goal at the time was surpassing All Might; he consciously chose to keep pursuing that goal even though doing so made it crystal clear that anything he might have told Touya about how it was okay if Touya couldn’t is just a platitude.

Note how Rei explicitly said in the scene above that Touya knew very well what Enji was hoping for from his children, and them continuing to have more in light of that knowledge would be a horrible cruelty. Again, that’s apparent in the ages of the kids: as long as Touya’s fire was holding up, it was just him and Fuyumi, but practically as soon as his fire started hurting him, suddenly more siblings were being attempted?

That’s all to say, I don’t for a second believe that Enji only proposed having more kids in order to make Touya give up. The page above is Enji making a textually cruel decision which he justified using the well-being of his son but which in actuality revolved around letting him get back to pursuing his ambition, which having a relationship with his son no longer furthered.

Let me copy back in those definitions of emotional neglect:

A lack of nurturance, encouragement, and support; neglect of, or unresponsiveness to, a child’s basic emotional needs; inadequate nurturing or affection. The parent or guardian fails to create an environment where the child feels secure, loved, wanted, worthy, etc.

Enji’s support was conditional. His nurturing revolved 100% around nurturing the growth of a future Hero, and that nurturing itself was pretty flawed, given Endeavor’s ideas about what being a Hero means. When Touya tried to demand support, wanting to get back what he had before, Enji just shut him down. It’s patently obvious that, at the age of three and a half years old, Touya did not feel secure, loved, wanted, or worthy in that home environment. Over the next ten years, it would get progressively worse.

Before I move on to the more active abuse that Enji would come to perpetuate, I want to move away from definitions and briefly talk about some other recognized acts and consequences of child neglect. All per Wikipedia:

• Act: Allowing the child to witness violence or severe abuse between parents or adults.

We don’t see Touya here directly, but this happened immediately after Touya invited Enji to come up to Sekoto Peak, so he presumably did at least see his father storming off bellowing Rei’s name at the top of his lungs. Also, absolutely nothing about this scene suggests to me that it was the first time something like this had happened—Shoto calling it “bullying” suggests it’s a regular occurrence and Fuyumi hiding and covering both her own and Natsuo’s ears also reads as something she learned how to do, not something she was doing for the very first time in this scene. I don’t feel it’s a stretch, then, to chalk it up as part of the form “child neglect” took for Touya as well.

• Act: Not getting the child adequate medical care.

Too many panels to choose from here! From the evidence of the flashbacks, Touya’s fire started burning him when he was three and a half; he was then intentionally and regularly doing training that resulted him getting burned for ten more years. Even if you argue that he started hiding that training after his attack on Shouto led to Endeavor getting more distant from him than ever, he would still have been doing that training more openly for something like four solid years. In their argument just before that attack, Enji even described him as “covered in burns.”

So, if he was covered in burns, was consistently burning himself for years, was he getting professional medical treatment? (God knows he wasn’t getting psychological help.) Or would that have raised too many uncomfortable questions that could have led to Social Services showing up at the Number 2 Hero’s house in broad daylight right when the neighbors could see it?

That question doesn’t just indict Enji, by the way; it goes for Rei, too. It’s telling that Rei’s response to having a traumatic break and burning Shouto was to embrace him, weeping and apologizing, and try to apply ice to the burn, while the only response we ever see to Touya’s burns, following that early medical consultation, is him getting manhandled and shouted at.

• Consequences: Children from neglectful homes are unlikely to view alternative caregivers as being a source of safety, and instead typically show an increase in aggressive and hyperactive behaviors which may disrupt healthy or secure attachment; they’re often described as glib, manipulative and disingenuous in their interactions with others as they move through childhood.

o Don’t regard other caretakers as being a source of safety:

(I’m aware I’m cheating a little here in that Rei was not an alternative caretaker, she was his literal mother, while AFO and the Evil Orphanage staff were transparently Sus As Hell. Still, I think the shoe fits.)

o Aggressive behavior:

(See also him burning down the Evil Orphanage on his way out. Also see Wikipedia’s list of symptoms for “Psychomotor agitation” and marvel at how many of those behaviors you could connect to Touya and/or Dabi if you wanted to evaluate him on “hyperactive behaviors” as well.)

o Manipulative and disingenuous:

(I don’t necessarily think Touya was consciously being an emotionally manipulative shithead here, but this is emotionally manipulative shithead behavior all the same.)

Moving on now to the other major relevant topic...

Emotional/Psychological Abuse

In the context of discussions of abuse, these two terms are generally used interchangeably. Due to that, and the fuzziness of terminology that I mentioned at the outset, there’s a lot of overlap between definitions/examples of this sort of abuse and child neglect—sometimes neglect is considered a subtype, for example. The Wikipedia articles here are a bit vague and all over the place, so for this section I sought out sites more specifically tailored to the topic of child emotional abuse. (Here, here and here.)

Consistent patterns are immediately visible in what sort of treatment is generally considered to constitute emotional abuse in the context of a parent/child relationship. Several would apply to all the Todoroki children, some exclusively to Shouto, but I’ll go through the ones that seem relevant to Touya.

Rejection/Ignoring: Communicating to a child through words and conduct that he or she is unwanted and/or worthless. Being consistently absent or emotionally unavailable. Continually ignoring or rejecting them. Never expressing positive emotions, showing kindness or congratulating the child on their successes.

A lot of overlap with neglect here that I’ve already covered, but note how, once Touya’s health problems kicked in, we only ever see Touya and Enji interactions come in the form of Touya begging for his father’s attention; Rei likewise said that all Touya wanted was for his father to look at him, which Enji refused to do.

This refusal is most literal in the volume version of Chapter 302, where the added pages really amp up that watching/seeing theme of Enji’s I talked about in my reply to your previous ask. After Touya attacked Shouto, Enji ordered Rei to keep her eyes on Touya; in their later confrontation in the lead-up to Sekoto Peak, Enji brought this up again, demanding to know why she didn’t stop him when watching him was all he asked her to do. When she tearfully said that she couldn’t stop Touya, Enji defensively, furiously shouted that she had to, because he (Enji) wouldn’t “watch.”

(With thanks to @codenamesazanka, here's the Viz digital release version, rather more colloquial than the Japanese, as is often the case with Caleb Cook's localizations for Enji.)

Contextually, I’m sure he was saying he wasn’t going to be the one to look after the kid, but the words also play off his arc theme by showing what Enji not only neglected but explicitly refused to look at/see/watch/pay attention to.

Verbal Abuse: Threatening, cursing, or yelling at children. Consistently humiliating or criticizing them, especially in front of others. Blaming or scapegoating them for the parent’s own abuse.

At the same time that Touya was now having to beg for any attention, the only attention he did get became negative. I don’t think Enji literally cursed at him in any of the scenes we see, but his language became noticeably rougher and sharper in ways that the Viz official release localizes as including cursing, even though he wasn’t e.g. directly calling Touya swears. (That is, the English translation has Enji saying, “Dammit!” in amidst his rants, but no directly addressed profanity like “bastard” or “asshole.”)

I leave an extended discussion of that localization choice to those with a greater understanding of the Japanese context, but Enji did unequivocally yell, both at Touya and at everyone else, in front of other family members and at volumes other family members couldn’t help but overhear.

He also consistently treated Touya as if Touya’s pleas for attention or secret training were the problem when the problem was very obviously Enji’s own neglect. “Why won’t you stop?” “Why don’t you get it?” It’s not as direct as, say, beating Touya and then saying the beating was his own fault, but he blamed Touya for hurting himself, blamed Rei for not intervening, when Touya’s injuries were a direct result of Enji refusing to acknowledge that his responsibility for his child’s emotional well-being should take precedence over his desperately shallow desire to stand on top of an awards podium.

As to threats, intimidation in all forms is another one of those things that crops up all over abuse lists. While Enji didn’t overtly threaten Touya, lord knows his body language was scary as hell—all that looming and glaring and grimacing! We know he would destroy things when he got angry enough—as seen in his trashed dojo after All Might announced his retirement—and destruction of property[4] is a frequent example of psychological abuse via intimidation.

4: As of e.g. throwing household items during fights, slamming doors or on walls, or especially breaking the victim’s personal belongings.

We do also see one instance of him manhandling Touya in a way that would quite clearly qualify as outright physically abusive in a domestic partner relationship.

In the context of urgently checking one’s child for injuries, this is slightly more forgivable, but the urgency here wasn’t really about Touya’s health; it was about how he was continuing to disobey Enji’s wishes, and the indication that Rei wasn’t doing what Enji wanted her to, either. Note Touya’s wide-eyed, rigid expression at the rough handling.

I don’t think there’s enough of an established pattern to conclusively ding Enji as physically abusive towards Touya, but on the other hand, the general consensus of experts (as I understand it) is that labeling a relationship emotionally abusive requires a consistent, persistent pattern of abusive behavior (because it’s easy to handwave off individual uses of ugly language as just the unintended result of speaking in anger or a making a joke that didn’t land), whereas a physically abusive relationship can be judged as such based on a single violent incident (because it’s harder to make convincing excuses for hitting someone).

In that sense, and based on how he treated Rei and Shouto, I would not be hard-pressed to believe that Enji was all too ready to use physical force dragging Touya around against his will (out of the dojo, back to his room, to Rei so she could administer first aid for his burns, etc.). That would, again, easily qualify as abuse in the sense of domestic partner violence; while I can see the argument that it’s different with kids, even the one instance of it we see already raises my eyebrows, and my likelihood of calling it child abuse would increase the more frequently it was happening.

Manipulation/Exploitation: Manipulating a child, forcing a responsibility on them without regard to their development, not recognizing their individuality, having unreasonable expectations/unreasonable demands, comparing them to others/their siblings.

This is all most applicable to Shouto, obviously, but it’s also where you can clearly see Enji’s treatment of Touya as abusive even when he and Touya were both very happy. Remember, Touya wasn’t even four yet when his ice nature started asserting itself, so all that stuff about surpassing All Might was a responsibility/expectation Enji was pushing on a three-year old—a literal toddler!—absolutely without regard to anything Touya might have wanted or chosen if left to his own devices. He didn’t keep pushing once it became clear Touya wouldn’t be able to meet those expectations, of course, but he also didn’t demonstrate for Touya any other ways to be close to him/earn his approval.

Also, while I still think him wanting to push ahead with having more children is more about fulfilling his own ambitions than genuinely helping Touya, he did still frame the decision as being about Touya. Specifically, he wanted to do it to “make” Touya give up; it was a manipulative tactic chosen specifically in hopes of breaking Touya’s stubbornness because Enji couldn’t find a more appropriate method of convincing Touya to give up on pursuing Heroism.

Closing out this section, here are some Dabi-relevant consequences I found noted for emotional/psychological abuse, per Wikipedia:

• Poor self-esteem:

(I know this is from a scene where he was proclaiming his own capability, but what strikes me as indicative is the way he unironically referred to himself as Endeavor’s “creation.” Not the wording of someone with a good strong sense of independent self! Refer back also to his calling himself and Natsuo “failed creations.”)

• Destructive behavior, angry acts such as fire setting: (Waves at all of Dabi)

• Withdrawal, difficulty forming relationships, isolated from their parents, have few (if any) friends:

(If you don’t think this qualifies, see also Dabi’s stand-offish relationship with the League. I think he did have a measure of care for them, but it was pretty stunted, as well as filtered through several layers of variably plausible belief that they only mattered to him insomuch as they were relevant to his goals.)

• Difficulty controlling strong emotions:

(See also Dabi’s swings into grinning, off-balance mania.)

• Suicide.

(To my eyes, this desire to commit a murder-suicide with his father goes back at least at far as the first war—because I’m not confident in Dabi’s ability or desire to survive that blue-flame Prominence Burn Best Jeanist interrupted—and maybe even all the way back to Dabi’s “birth” praying at his own memorial photo at the family shrine, what with Dabi’s very name meaning “cremation” and all.)

Child Abuse in Japanese Resources

One of the things I made sure to do over the course of writing this piece was look up resources actually from Japan on the topic of child abuse, just to be sure that their conception of what constitutes abuse didn’t diverge in some unexpected way from my English-language resources. They did not—everything I covered above can also be found on Japanese web resources on child abuse—but they did, interestingly, include some things not covered by my English resources, things I take to be more specific to Japanese law and/or culture. I want to touch on those briefly before I wrap this up.

(The specific phrasing I use below is taken from the English-language version of the website Lights On Children, a Tokyo-based NPO focused on raising awareness and resources for children living in alternative care situations like children’s homes or foster families, but similar points were found on other websites as well.)

Inflicting burns as a form of physical abuse.

I didn’t discuss it specifically above because most of what I was working from was specific lists/infographics about signs of non-physical abuse, but I noticed on this site—and it’s true for English sites as well!—that burns on a child are a well-recognized sign of child abuse, ubiquitous on any list of tells for physical abuse. I wouldn’t suspect Horikoshi had that in mind specifically when brainstorming Shouto and the rest of his family situation, but it is notable that Shouto's most obvious injury, the one that gets his mother institutionalized, is a facial burn.

Touya hid his injuries, nominally so Enji didn’t realize he was still training and shout at him all the time or take more drastic measures to make him stop, but I gotta say, a school nurse doing a routine health check-up would not know the difference between burns Touya got from self-taught training and burns Touya got from his famous flame-wielding Hero father. The fact that they were hidden, and especially that they were on his torso rather than his limbs, should be screamingly suspicious to any semi-trained professional, and I truly wonder what the in-universe explanation is for how Touya got through 7+ years of regular school health screenings without Endeavor getting into serious trouble.

Not taking the child to a medical institution/hospital if they are in serious need of care.

This is another one that was ubiquitous under acts that constitute neglect. Japan has universal health care, you see, so there’s even less excuse for not getting your kids medical help if they need it than there would be in the U.S.[5] This goes back to my questions about whether Touya was ever taken to see a doctor/the emergency room to address his burns. Small ones I could see Enji and Rei plausibly justifying taking care of at the house, which, given the nature of Enji’s job and training regimen, was presumably well-stocked to handle such first aid. That huge band across Touya’s entire abdomen in Chapter 302, not so much.

5: My research suggests that all children under a certain age are eligible for Medicaid in the U.S. regardless of whether or not their parents qualify, so denying your child needed care is still heckin’ illegal here, too! However, health insurance in the U.S. is such a horrible morass that it wouldn’t surprise me if plenty of parents don’t know—or at least could plausibly claim that they don’t—about hospital requirements to provide care for kids regardless of their parents’ ability to pay.

Discriminatory treatment among siblings.

This one barely came up at all in English-language resources but was super common on the Japanese sites, I assume because the country’s deeply engrained problems with patriarchal attitudes is more likely to result in that kind of disparity between the treatment given to sons and daughters, or the oldest son compared to basically everyone else. I’ve also seen enough examples in anime of wildly differing treatment of adopted children—or step-children!—versus blood-related children that I assume it’s a reflection of some real-life precedent!

The relevance for the Todoroki children is, I trust, obvious.

Abusive actions to siblings.

I discussed above how allowing children to witness domestic partner violence is itself an act of child abuse, even if the abuser never lays a finger on the child themselves, and the same goes here. If anything, it’s even more stringent: the stuff about partner violence tends to specify letting a child witness it, while that qualifier of a child's perception is not present for sibling abuse. Abusing one child in any way—physically, sexually, psychologically, or via neglect—constitutes psychological abuse for all children in the home.

For the Todorokis, then, what Enji (or Rei!) did to any individual one of the children—be it the isolation and abusive training Shouto underwent, the rejection and verbal abuse Touya endured, or even the disregard and parentification Fuyumi and Natsuo had to deal with[6]—qualifies as abuse of all of them.

6: More prominent for Fuyumi, but Natsuo talked about the meals he cooked as well. I don’t think we know what-all the housekeeper did, how much she was around, or how old the kids were when she retired (at least old enough that Enji didn’t bother replacing her) but Fuyumi’d been trying to protect Natsuo from their family’s damage since she was seven years old.

Wrap-Up

So, I hope this has all clarified for you, anon, why people so readily call Touya an abuse victim. He was—they all were! I should also note, before I let readers go, that there’s not really a question of severity here, either: numerous studies have shown that the impact of psychological abuse and/or child neglect is no less damaging—and may even be more damaging—than the harm done by physical or sexual abuse in isolation. So it’s not like Touya’s just wildly overreacting or some kind of Bad Egg—while obviously not all abuse victims grow up into violent criminals, a certain percentage of them do, and Touya falls into that category.

It’s one of the things I always liked about the Todoroki plot, really. Four children, all of whom had wildly different responses to the abuse they suffered, allows room for one of them to be completely (and entertainingly!) unhinged about it without consequently implying that abuse will inevitably turn victims into violent monsters.

Thanks for the ask!

#bnha #todoroki touya #todoroki enji #bnha dabi #bnha endeavor #todoroki rei #todoroki family #tw: child abuse #tw: child neglect #moderately image heavy #my writing #todotalk #stillness answers

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shinjirev · 2 months ago

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The shared night of the mc and the legal consultant

Having to spend the night with the three ghouls of sinostra and finding herself alone in the company of three boys, the fellow had chosen to share the room with Ritsu. The latter, partly almost incredulous, had felt positively disturbed by being chosen. Despite his feelings, however, Ritsu wanted to try to keep himself rational and to trace her choice back to a set of practical motivations. After all, Ritsu was the person closest to her and also certainly represented a more reassuring alternative to the captain or his deputy, known for their unpredictability and irascibility. Anyway, despite his happiness with the situation, Ritsu avoided getting carried away by his personal feelings that risked clouding his judgment on the matter. These were no issues he could waste time on, especially not during a mission so crucial to achieving the laurel wreath.

So he decided to spend the evening reviewing the mission information provided by the darkwick institute, integrating it with that obtained in the field. To carry out this thorough review, he decided to request the cooperation of his partner. Of course, her participation was not essential, much less necessary, but Ritsu did not want to deprive himself of her company. They would spend the evening together exchanging considerations on the mission and he would have had the opportunity to have her close without taking away attention from the mission. Ritsu and yn then reached their very modest room and placed their bags there. As soon as he arrived in the room, Ritsu noted with disappointment how much the hygiene rules were not respected and, feeling in the mood for conversion, wanted to share his culture with his roommate. Sharing that soon resulted in an enumeration of broken health regulations and possible complaints and related penalties.

In short, his timid attempt at openness resulted in a sort of conference on questions of law. -according to the Regulations for the hotel industries (Royal Decree 24 May 1925, no. 1102) Hotels must guarantee daily cleaning of the premises, disinfection of common areas and toilets, regular replacement of bed linen and towels- The poor girl, noticing Ritsu's enthusiasm, wanted to listen to him carefully without interrupting him but tried to show herself participating in the conversation (which seemed more like a monologue) by asking timid questions about the laws mentioned.

While the two were talking quietly, they also took care of getting ready for the night. Yn was surprised to see Ritsu settle down and open his bag. Everything inside was ordered and divided into sections according to the use of the objects. The girl couldn't help but smile noticing how Ritsu's perfectionism extended even to the smallest precautions. He noticed her surprised look and smiled in turn. -I guess you're surprised by my order, but it's natural that it should be so. A legal consultant must always be ready to present himself in the appropriate conditions in front of each of his potential clients - *with a proud smile he crossed his arms, in the attitude of someone who is explaining a very important concept* - so it is essential to always have a personal hygiene kit but also tools of the trade such as my notebook or my tape recorder available. I notice that you have not brought similar instruments so I will have no problem lending you mine. Obviously on condition of appropriate use and a minimum rental rate...- -No no Ritsu, don't worry... I have my cell phone with me to collect information, there is no need- -Perfect. Just remember to keep your device charged. The availability of means is a fundamental element in any type of investigation.- That said, while the girl finished arranging her things, Ritsu went to the bathroom and after a while the water from the shower was heard. The girl took advantage of the moment alone to change and put on her pajamas and then start preparing the documents that would keep them busy that night.

After a few minutes, Ritsu emerged from the bathroom already wearing his pajamas. Even at a time like that, his perfection didn't seem to leave him. Everything about him appeared composed and serene. Even his soft clothes seemed to take on a statuesque seriousness when worn by him. His hair was still wet but it had already been brushed, so it fell softly around his face and on his neck. Some strands appeared messy and restless. The only detail to clash with his image so composed. Calmly, leaving the bathroom door open, he began to dry his hair, patiently taming those few dishevelled locks. Before she knew it, the girl found herself observing him. His composure, his tranquility, his pragmatism... Nothing seemed to disturb him even during the mission. Ritsu had exchanged no conversation with her that could comfort her in her fright during the mission. Yet his gestures and his confidence had made her feel at ease and protected somehow.

At one point Ritsu turned around and met her gaze. She was still standing there with the mission documents in her hand. - Ah yes. You can start the review. You don't have to wait for me. I'll have finished here shortly anyway.- Fortunately Ritsu had dwelt on his documents, not on the fact that she was watching him. -Yes, of course, excuse me... I get to work immediately- So she looked away and actually went to start the work on her own. The room, in its modesty, was not equipped with a table or desk, let alone chairs. So the girl placed the material on her bed, leaving herself some space to sit down.

After a while he reached her and sat down on the other side of the bed in a composed manner. The two began to review the documents by reviewing the information already received from the institute and then Ritsu began to research the new books acquired in the city while she jotted down the significant information in a notebook. It wasn't a very exciting activity, so she began to feel the heaviness of sleep invade her thoughts as her eyes grew heavier and a few yawns interrupted her work. Ritsu realized her condition and after observing her for a few seconds he warned her - your conditions do not seem optimal to me to continue with this occupation. In the present state of affairs it is reasonable for you to lie down and let me continue- -But, Ritsu... there is still a lot of work here...-

- I am aware of it, but do not fear for me. I will continue only as long as my tiredness allows me to. Not having proper rest time will affect my work in the mission, and I can't let it happen. That obviously applies to you as well. Reason why you should rest- Although his words sounded so formal and logical, it was clear that they also had an undertone of concern. Ritsu moved the documents over his own bed and left her free space. Despite her intentions, the girl went to lie down under the covers, feeling immediately assailed by sleep. She felt lost, far from the institute and potentially in danger. But in that situation she found comfort in the service light on above her bed. And as the cares of the day gave way to the comfort of sleep, she stared at that comforting light and thought that deep down just like that... that light was Ritsu still awake... that light was Ritsu.

#fanfic #ritsu shinjo #romance #sfw littlespace #tokyo debunker #fanfiction

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the-raven-lady · 10 months ago

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(Not) The Savior You Long For [Part 1]

[Masterlist] [My Ko-Fi]

Pairing: Night Lord (OC: Elias Rushorik) x serf!Reader [fem]

Song Inspiration: Fear Inoculum - TOOL [YouTube] [Spotify] “Enumerate all that I'm to do / Calculating steps away from you / My own mitosis / Growing through delusion from mania / Exhale, expel / Recast my tale / Weave my allegorical elegy.”

Warnings: Violence, explicit and detailed blood and gore, disgusting and disturbing imagery, terror and dread, fear of death, all of the warnings you should expect hearing the words ‘Night Lord’ bestie this is the “I love murder” legion.

Word Count: 2.8k

Author’s Note: The long awaited Night Lord claiming + womb tattoo series. This part is primarily exposition and setting the scene. Also new dividers? Raven Lady's getting fancy.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Tag List: @egrets-not-regrets @sleepyfan-blog @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @bispecsual

@lemon-russ @moodymisty @dedios-of-the-word @pickpocketing-your-gender

The slosh of brown water on the floor splashes away from your washcloth, and you overextend your shoulder trying to catch it before it runs too far. Hissing at the sudden spasm, you sit back on your heels, rolling it out to soothe the ache. You’ve been on your hands and knees for what feels like far too long now, and your joints are starting to protest. It seems the other serf helping you isn’t faring much better. A glance in her direction reveals her sitting like a child, knees bent and feet flat on the floor, using the full weight of her body to scrub between the seams of the floor panels. You shake your head and return to pushing around the rusty water, struggling to remove the grime from the floor.

The act was pointless. Everyone knew that it wouldn’t be another week before the armory would be so rancid with dried bodily fluids that a cleanup crew would have to scrub it down again, but you knew better than to make a comment on it.

The racket of raucous laughter nearby shoots ice through your veins. You and the other serf instinctually freeze at the sound, and it doesn’t even cross your mind to check on her before abandoning your post, scrambling off of the wet floor in a flash to hide behind a large crate. The cold metal at your back would shield you from view, you know, but the hammering in your chest and shuddering of your breath would be beacons for a bored astartes. Silently, you will yourself to calm down at any cost, holding your breath for so long your lungs begin to burn from the effort.

Their heavy footfalls eventually fade into the distance, off to another area of the ship. Still, you remain in place for another few minutes until you’re as certain as you’ll ever be that they’re gone. You dare not risk yourself getting caught by a group of Night Lords, if experience has taught you anything.

You’ve become jaded to the rags of tanned hide displayed proudly on their armor and the grotesque corpse art that lines the walls of Nightfall. The smell doesn’t even get to you anymore, having been surrounded by abundant death and decay for so long. Everything reeks of it. Even if you did take the time to think on the dreadful feelings that stir when you see them, your body wouldn’t be able to afford losing any more meals with how sparingly you’ve been fed.

What has never left you are the screams. The gush of blood pouring from a weeping laceration. The crack of breaking bones. Desperate cries from the poor targets of the Night Lord’s insatiable appetite for ‘entertainment’, sobs and begs for their lives— No, no, no, please! I’ll do anything, please, just let me go–!— eventually turning into pleas to be put out of their misery, shown mercy, as their captors only laugh and croon. No mercy flowed through them; they were never quick with their kills. It was all a sadistic game to feed off of the tears and terror for as long as they could. The Night Lords wouldn’t stop their fun until their playthings had been bled dry– literally or figuratively.

You peek out from around the crate, surveying the dim armory. Empty.

The serf you had been working with was missing as well, likely sequestered off somewhere for safety. The utter silence of the room causes your gut to tremble with anxiety. It was a dangerous game to be alone: lone serfs were prime prey, and you by no means wanted to make yourself an easy target.

With no small amount of horror, you realize it’s outside of your power to do anything about it. Your lungs deflate, and you give yourself a false reassurance before returning to your station on the floor, taking up the soiled wash rag and wringing it out into the water bucket. Pieces of slimy rehydrated skin pass over your fingers. You return to your efforts with the intent to finish as quickly as possible. The desire to flee to your cot is all-encompassing, driving you to redouble your efforts and get the job done just passably enough that you won’t be killed for it.

A thought stops you, though. Where had your companion gone? It’s not that you particularly cared for her safety (you didn’t know her and caring is a luxury you could not afford), but to be gone without a trace was peculiar. You don’t remember hearing her footsteps, but you had also been preoccupied with yourself at the time.

You look around the empty room for anything out of place. Nothing appears to have moved since you last checked. Her brush and bucket are still on the floor, right where she had left them. You had seen her put them down there, right?

…Hadn’t you?

You dismiss the thought. She was probably still hiding somewhere, and for that, you couldn’t fault her. There was no loyalty amongst serfs of the Eighth, just an understanding that it was safer together than apart. Wanting to determine how much longer you would be here, you observe the areas the other serf had already worked.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The surfaces of the floors, storage units, and walls were visibly much cleaner than the rest, but she had done a horrible job wiping things down as she went. The steady dripping of a poorly dried surface unpleasantly fills your ears, slowly becoming the only thing you can focus on. You frown. It was amazing how you could begin to miss the ever-present dull thrum of the ship’s electrical systems when it was covered by something even slightly more annoying.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

You shake your head and get back to working around the floor grate at the center of the room. Its placement makes it convenient to push the disgusting wash water into. As expected, the seams around the drain are compacted with hair and dried flesh, and you have to soak the mass to begin to scrape it free. The spongy texture is a nightmare to work with, but it wouldn’t be such a chore if you had some help.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Annoyed, you decide you’ve had enough of it. Water sloshes in the bucket when you wrench your washcloth to go wipe down whatever it is she had left unfinished, rising up to your feet. With some luck, you’d figure out where she had run off to. It wouldn’t come as a surprise if she had abandoned you altogether, leaving you to finish the task and fend for yourself.

A cursory glance over the bench, lockers, and racks reveals nothing out of the ordinary. They were passably clean and– perplexingly– completely dry. You ran a hand along them to be certain and, surely enough, it came away much the same. Odd. You were certain that you would find something. Continuing your search leaves more questions than answers.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Checking around a wall of storage cabinets, you carefully inspect each of the gaps for signs of water or some other liquid that could be leaking. You find nothing.

At the end of the lockers, a shadow dances in the dim candlelight. Fear grips you for just a moment as you focus in on it, but it is much too small to be an astartes. At the realization, the chill in your blood is replaced with a simmer of frustration, and you stomp down the hall towards the figure.

Your eyes lock with the other serf’s. “Are you just hiding to–?”

You stop. It appears she had been too preoccupied with hanging from a bracket on the wall to come to your aid. The side of her neck is torn open with loose strips of muscle and connective tissue fanning over her shoulder. A glistening metal finial of Nostraman design pokes ornately through her spine and sternum, partially coagulated blood pooling at the tip.

Drip.

“About time,” a voice spits.

You’re suddenly dragged by the back of your robes, hoisted up into the air by an unseen force. The scream that leaves you tears at your vocal cords, but it’s choked off by the fabric of your neckline biting into your throat. Thrashing your head from side to side, you catch sight of a colorless face cackling, bloodied lips curled into a grin. You desperately kick your legs in an attempt to free yourself.

“Feisty little pet, aren’t we?” he asks. The Night Lord turns you around easily as you struggle, splitting red as he talks. “Good. Your friend was far more boring.”

You rake at the fabric around your neck, trying to alleviate the pressure preventing oxygen from getting to your head. The action only makes him laugh harder. “Oh, how precious. Poor little serf can’t breathe?” He tilts his head as he taunts you, and a cruel glint crosses his eye.

“How about I help with that?”

A half turn and your back slams against the wall, knocking the wind out of your lungs. Your gasp of pain ignites a malicious glee within your captor, a row of bloodied yellow teeth peeking from behind his lips. At least like this, pinned to the wall, you have the ability to catch your breath, ragged and shallow. Each rough huff eases the ache in your diaphragm.

A hand roughly snaps your head forward, forcing you to focus on the face at your front. He suffocates you with his presence, leaning in far too close. “You know,” he starts, “I had been just about ready to walk in there and drag you out myself.” Despite the melodic quality of his voice, you only feel discomfort at the astartes’s words as he uningenuously laments. “I could only stare at my masterpiece for so long.”

Briefly, your eyes linger on the silhouetted corpse of the other chapter serf. You hadn’t even heard her scream. Hadn’t heard the attack. Hadn’t heard the bones crack when she was unceremoniously mounted on the wall. You had managed to miss every detail.

…Or your captor had been skilled enough to mask them. You shiver.

He follows your gaze, scoffing when it lands on the body. “Your buddy is as pretty as she is stupid, trying to run all the way back to the hole you serfs call home.” The image of the other serf running down the hallway and getting caught as you did passes through your mind, and you grimace at the thought of whatever game she may have suffered through to end up where she is. The sing-song cadence of his voice draws your attention back to the Night Lord in front of you, “You humans fall so easily to your emotions. Not the brightest of you lot I’ve had, but certainly the best bait.”

Bait. The word is sour in the air.

“So unwilling to have fun–”

She had just been bait.

“–but you’re eager to play, aren’t you?”

You were the game.

Your blood runs cold, eyes widening as you process everything you had missed or ignored up until now. Black blurs the edges of your vision. “Oh, don’t be like that,” the Night Lord shakes his head, but you know better than to believe it. This is exactly what he wanted. “We can be great friends—”

Self-preservation takes a hold of you. Your adrenalized brain screams to overcome, persist. In an act of desperation, your hands shoot out before you, and you manage to jab your fingers into his dark eyes and claw. The astartes snarls, ducking away and dragging you with him off of the wall as he stumbles back. With a shake of his head, he regains his senses. He growls.

“You stupid bitch!”

The Night Lord tosses you like a ragdoll, uncaring of how your head impacts the nearby bench before hitting the floor. The world spins around you. “I’ll gut you like a pig for that, you impudent rat!” he roars, ceramite boots stomping closer. His eyes are wild, red around his enlarged pupils from where you’ve managed to burst blood vessels. Uncoordinated, you scramble backwards on the floor, staring up at the approaching astartes in terror.

This is it. This is where you die: surrounded by filth, hyperventilating on the floor as a pissed off Night Lord tortures you within an inch of your life until you perish from the stress. All for one measly act of courage. Your back hits a wall as he rounds the bench, and you find yourself unable to watch any longer as fate unfolds before you. You curl up in a ball, turning away and protecting your head with your arms, then wait for the inevitable killing strike.

And wait.

…And wait.

But the blow never comes– no white-hot stab of pain, no sting of a kick to the ribs, no blunt ache of broken bones– just a sickeningly sodden crunch of flesh and bone. A wet spray paints your back. Your tattered robes easily soak up the warm liquid, causing you to flinch from the sudden moisture. Even through the rush of confusion and fear, it doesn’t take you long to realize what it is. The scent is unmistakable.

Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you struggle to catch up with your surroundings. By all means, you should be dead: the newest addition to a Night Lord’s skin cloak, or at the very least in excruciating pain. But you aren’t.

Tentatively, trembling, you withdraw your head from the cage of your arms, turning just enough to peer behind you. You gasp at the grisly sight.

Crimson rivulets of blood drip down over massive navy blue gauntlets. A single enucleated eye dangles from the gore between its digits. The terminator, more mountain than man, holds the unmoving body of your persecutor up by what remains of his cranium and neck. It is little more than ribbons of meat now.

Bile rises in your throat. You struggle to force it back down.

Bolted armor caked in blood– both dried and fresh, sunken deep into the recesses of the ceramite plating– gives off an aura of wrought iron and decay. The metallic tang permeates the air around him, hanging heavy in the poorly ventilated armory. His scarred skin looks sickly pale. Greasy. Dehydrated. Aside from deep black eyes that watch you as a predator observes prey, the most prominent feature on his face is a wicked scar: a tear in his upper lip that exposes maxilla and sharp teeth alike. The shock of black hair on his head still has the impression of his helmet on it.

Without so much as a sound, he had come up from behind and grabbed the smaller Night Lord by the face, yanking them back into the crux of his chestplate and pauldron with enough force to shatter the hardened skull of an astartes.

The massive marine throws the limp corpse of his former brother aside. The impact of metal on metal causes your ears to ring as a thousand pounds of lifeless ceramite strikes the wall, immediately followed by a disgusting wet slop of pulverized brain matter spilling onto the floor. If you had been on the Nightfall for any less time, you would have screamed. The shock almost prevents you from registering that you’re being spoken to.

“Get up.”

The terminator’s voice is that of rolling thunder and coarse gravel, resonating deep within your chest and leaving your heart fluttering with trepidation. His words had been spoken no louder than conversational, and yet they had you shooting up to your feet as if they had been shouted. Your wobbly legs nearly give out beneath you from how quickly you rise from the floor, croaking a shaky, “Yes, my lord.”

He removes his helmet from where it is magnetized to his belt with a click, placing it down on the bench you had been cowering behind. The tusks on it are as long as your forearm and nearly as thick. A faint decal of a skull is painted around the red lenses, chipped and fading but almost cartoonishly cute in contrast to the rags of flesh and weathered bones decorating the rest of his armor.

The new Night Lord doesn’t seem to find it nearly as amusing as you do. He pushes the helmet in your direction, and you clamber to catch it before it hits the ground, not wanting to incur his wrath by dropping it so soon after he had just saved your life. The metal is heavy in your arms, tusks dangerously close to puncturing your throat.

“Clean it,” he barks.

You grab your wash rag from the floor and shake it out. You do not have to be told twice.

[Part 2]

#there will be smut eventually #i did not and will not pull any punches on this one you have been WARNED #using my questionable life experience to make a good dark fic #enjoy you filthy sinners #night lord #night lords #night lord x reader #warhammer fanfic #warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #warhammer 30k #horus heresy #warhammer 40k x reader #wh 40k #oc: elias rushorik #raven lady writings

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jesperweidemann · 9 months ago

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Master the Comma

The comma, a seemingly simple punctuation mark, holds significant power in shaping the clarity and flow of written language. Its correct usage can transform a piece of writing from confusing to coherent, making it an essential tool for any writer. Understanding the various roles of the comma and how to apply them effectively is crucial for enhancing readability and ensuring your message is conveyed with precision.

The Role of the Comma in Lists

One of the primary functions of the comma is to separate items in a list. When you enumerate three or more items, commas help to distinguish each element clearly. For instance, consider the sentence: “For breakfast, I had eggs, toast, and orange juice.” Here, the commas separate the items, making the list easy to read. The comma before the conjunction “and” is known as the Oxford comma. While its use is optional, it often helps to prevent ambiguity. For example, “I dedicate this book to my parents, Oprah Winfrey, and God” is clearer than “I dedicate this book to my parents, Oprah Winfrey and God,” which could imply that Oprah Winfrey and God are the parents.

Setting Off Introductory Elements

Commas are also used to set off introductory elements in a sentence. These elements can be words, phrases, or clauses that precede the main clause. For example, “After the meeting, we went out for lunch.” The comma after “After the meeting” signals a pause, helping the reader to understand that the introductory phrase is separate from the main action of the sentence. This use of the comma enhances readability by clarifying the sentence structure.

Joining Independent Clauses

When two independent clauses are joined by a coordinating conjunction (such as for, and, nor, but, or, yet, so), a comma is placed before the conjunction. For instance, “I wanted to go for a walk, but it started raining.” This rule helps to avoid run-on sentences and maintains the flow of ideas. Without the comma, the sentence might feel rushed or jumbled, making it harder for the reader to follow the writer’s train of thought.

Nonessential Information

Commas are also used to set off nonessential information—details that add extra context but are not crucial to the meaning of the sentence. For example, “My brother, who lives in New York, is visiting us next week.” The clause “who lives in New York” provides additional information about the brother but is not essential to the main point of the sentence. Removing it still leaves a complete thought: “My brother is visiting us next week.”

Avoiding Common Mistakes

Despite their importance, commas are often misused. One common mistake is the comma splice, which occurs when two independent clauses are joined by a comma without a coordinating conjunction. For example, “I love reading, it’s my favorite hobby.” This can be corrected by adding a conjunction or changing the comma to a semicolon: “I love reading, and it’s my favorite hobby” or “I love reading; it’s my favorite hobby.”

Another frequent error is the overuse of commas, which can disrupt the flow of writing. For instance, “The cake, was delicious” includes an unnecessary comma that interrupts the sentence. Conversely, omitting necessary commas can lead to confusion. Consider the difference between “Let’s eat Grandma” and “Let’s eat, Grandma.” The first suggests cannibalism, while the second is an invitation to dine.

Advanced Comma Usage

Beyond the basics, commas can be used in more sophisticated ways to enhance writing. When two or more adjectives equally modify a noun, commas are used to separate them. For example, “She wore a bright, colorful dress.” If the adjectives are not equal, no comma is needed: “She wore a bright summer dress.”

Transitional phrases such as “however,” “therefore,” and “for example” should also be set off with commas. For instance, “I wanted to join the team; however, I was too late.” This helps to clarify the relationship between ideas. Additionally, when addressing someone directly, commas are used to set off their name or title, as in “Thank you, Dr. Smith, for your assistance.”

Conclusion

Mastering the comma is essential for effective writing. By understanding the basic rules and avoiding common mistakes, you can use commas to enhance the clarity and flow of your writing. Whether you are listing items, joining clauses, or setting off nonessential information, the comma is a powerful tool that, when used wisely, can significantly improve readability. Remember, the key to mastering the comma is practice and attention to detail. With time and effort, you can become proficient in using this versatile punctuation mark to enhance your writing.

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etirabys · 2 years ago

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It's very sweet about CS Lewis to idiotproof Paradise Lost against atheists. He didn't have to do that. He was a Christian writer in a Christian society and I assume he could have gotten away with just talking to other Christians about it and ignoring annoying people who wrongly read subversion into Milton. Instead he gives us a Christianity 101 chapter in A Preface to Paradise Lost and says, "this is the theological canon of the church, and here is how Milton hews to it again and again".

So now I think I understand Christianity. Maybe?

CS Lewis, explaining the canonical beliefs: Everything in nature is intrinsically good. Bad things happen when conscious creatures become "more interested in itself than in God", or assumes it can exist independently of God, as when Milton's Satan says that he is "self-begot".

me: Just for fun, let me enumerate the possible answers to 'who begot us?' – (1) conscious supreme being – e.g. Christian God, (2) our parents – e.g. Confucianism, (3) the self, (4) the weight of human history – humanity co-creating itself by maintaining a matrix of culture, (5) Nature – non-conscious but still revered, e.g. planet worship / I hecking love science, (6) null answer – non-conscious material processes.

Lewis: God knows in advance that some conscious entities will voluntarily make themselves bad and also knows what good use He will make of their badness. As [Milton's] angels point out, whoever tries to rebel against God produces the result opposite to his intention. At the end of the poem Adam is astonished at the power 'that all this good of evil shall produce'. This is the exact reverse of the programme Satan had envisaged in Book I, when he hoped, if God attempted any good through him, to 'pervert that end'; instead he is allowed to do all the evil he wants and finds that he has produced good. Those who will not be God's sons become His tools.

me: That's such beautiful cope! I've heard the badly-articulated versions of that Christian belief but it turns out I'm unprincipled and like it when you, Charisma Stat Lewis, say it.

me: It's also hard not to speculate that this belief is more adaptive in a world with e.g. a 50% child mortality rate.

Lewis: Also, The apple wasn't magic. THE APPLE WASN'T MAGIC. The only point of forbidding it was to instill obedience. The disobedience was so heinous precisely because obedience was so easy.

me: it was a shit test

Lewis: The Fall consisted of man's disobedience to his superior and was punished by man's loss of authority over his inferiors – chiefly over his passions and his physical organism. "Man has called for anarchy: God lets him have it." After the Fall, understanding ceased to rule and the will did not listen to understanding.

me: okay so what about the physical organism

Lewis: Man used to control his erections before the Fall

me: what

Lewis: That's right. No accidental boners. No morning wood. No dead bedroom subreddits. You can clench your fist without being angry and you can be angry without clench your fist. The will controls the fist. The sexual organs used to be like that.

me: That follows splendidly from "man was punished by the passions overruling the will" and yet I wasn't expecting that at all. Probably because I'm female? I annotated your "the will did not listen to understanding" with "we didn't have akrasia before the fall", because akrasia is a big problem for me. But being horny isn't.

me: I mean, obviously some women are really horny and causes them to act in unwise ways, and some men aren't horny. But "single men under age 25 are the most societal-problem-causing demographic" is well known, and even outside that age range, men seem to be, like, "cursed with horny" in a way that requires managing & makes them miserable on a day to day basis... so it makes sense that male interpreters would identify that with the Fall. It's conceptually congruent in a way "the Fall caused childbirth to be painful" isn't.

Lewis: Anyway, the Fall – people overcomplicated it. The apple is just an apple. It's not an allegory. The Fall consisted of Disobedience – doing what your superiors told you not to do – and resulted from Pride, which is forgetting your place. This is what the Church has always taught. Milton states it in the very first line of his poem and all his characters reiterate it from every possible point of view. Don't read false emphases into Milton! This is what he is saying: obedience to the will of God will make you happy and disobedience will make you miserable.

me: Well, obviously you know that your modern reader doesn't like this. You're pleasantly cognizant of atheist readers who are into self-governance and equality.

Lewis: The modern idea that we can choose between hierarchy and equality is not quite right. The real alternative to hierarchy is tyranny. If you will not have authority you will find yourself obeying brute force.

me: I simultaneously have a suspicious-resistant feeling and the perception that, when people in my milieu disagree with this, your view is the baseline from which we deviate minorly. Any form of functional social arrangement is going to have something that looks like authority and obedience.

Lewis: Understand this: Milton's poem belongs to a hierarchical conception of the universe where everything except God has some natural superior and everything except dead matter has some natural inferior. Superiors should rule over inferiors. When Milton protests an instance of rule (he was against the monarchy of the Stuarts) he is disagreeing that the Stuarts are superior while still thinking that hierarchy is cosmically good. The justice or injustice of any given instance of rule depends wholly on the nature of the parties, not on any social contract.

me: I have little respect for Confucianism because it strikes me as so overtly a system of thought with no internal merit or wisdom on the micro, whose only function is to make society run on the macro. (I'm sorry to say "only" there, because that's a big function.) What you describe has the same feel. This isn't a great label for it, but I'd call both Confucianism and Christian hierarchy 'biological philosophies', in that of course this is the philosophy that materially deprived apes who want both power and stability would equilibriate on: a system of subjugation and cope. The hierarchical conception itself is "understanding ceasing to rule".

Lewis: [Lewis would doubtless totally own me. But he doesn't directly address this in anything I've read by him, and I can't simulate him in enough detail to generate his response.]

#rambl #eti reads paradise lost #cs lewis

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rubynautilus · 2 months ago

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Without You

(a brief Shadow fanfic born from a spur of inspiration triggered by a sad melody)

Right after Sonic’s fight with the Time Eater, everyone was returned to their original time and space previous to the distortion. In Shadow's case he was back in the ARK's control room where he'd gone to investigate the strange signal that called to him. Now he knew that it was Black Doom trying to regain his power in order to attempt to conquer Earth for the Black Arms. And once again, his threat had been neutralized. This time for good, hopefully. But Shadow was still on edge, something else made him feel like it wasn't over quite yet. And the Ultimate Lifeform does not leave jobs unfinished. Although, this had a different feeling to it. One that, deep down, Shadow was genuinely uneasy to acknowledge. But if something was still wrong there was no time for distractions, so he turned to patrol the ruins of the colossal space colony.

He did not dash through the old facility though. Instead this required a slow and meticulous inspection, or at least that's what his gut told him. He spent a long time walking down the derelict hallways and empty chambers. Some areas were filled with floating debris composed of highly advanced equipment, loose fragments of the facility itself, tools, fabric, the personal belongings of the scientists and other crew of the A.R.K... Not the most pleasant sight, or memory. But Shadow steeled his focus and pushed through, slowly dodging the haunted mementos in solemn silence. This feeling that called to him was getting stronger as he sweeped the space station, which filled Shadow with an increasing suspicion that this was another trap that he was falling for. But now that the feeling was more intense there was a strange sense of reassurance coming from it. Definitely a deception, it had to be.

Shadow reached the living quarters. In spite of the purely pragmatic design of the original infrastructure the years of life it had seen coated it with with a homely array of furniture and decorations. The common areas had tables, chairs, book cases, board games, an old TV or two, even a rudimentary makeship videogame console that some of the researchers managed to put together in their spare time. The at the time very young Abraham Tower loved to hog it for hours at a time. The enumerated doors of each room had been personalized by their former inhabitants to varying degrees. Some remained mostly drab with only a name scribbled on a white board while others had been turned into true testaments to the arts and crafts. In reality, it was a very dissonant contrast, aesthetically speaking. And yet, the flood of memories was overwhelming, painfully so. How could a desolate place like this feel so positive? How could these grimly dark spaces evoke the slightest sense of comfort? How could this violently evicted place feel like... home? This was not right. He was clearly being led here to ignite in him these horrible feelings, just like how Black Doom was constantly transporting him to his darkest hour. This had to be it, Black Doom managed to slither away yet again, somehow, and he was trying to put Shadow through the ringer one last time. A wrath was starting to manifest inside the hedgehog, making the surface of his body squirm with anger and giving his eyes a red glow. And still, the deceitful feeling of warmth was tugging at him to go further in. Mocking him, surely. If Black Doom wanted to see the worst of him so badly he was going to get it.

Shadow pushed onward following this call with deep resentment up until he could see his destination, it was Maria's room. A shock stole his breath and sent a shiver down his spine, but this was not over. Shadow had to press on, he had to see this through. This nightmare's end was long overdue and he was desperate to bring it to its conclusion. Her room was wide open, inviting his dark frame in. It was littered with her belongings. Some of it was nicely organized and some of it not so much. There also was stuff that had been disrespectfully thrown around, probably during G.U.N.'s raid. Shadow remembered some of his time here. Vaguely, but intensely as well. He remembered helping her clean her room. She taught him how to look after himself. Maria was a diligent girl, whenever her condition allowed her to be. So one of the disorganized items in particular caught his attention, a music box. It sat on the floor in the middle of the room. Shadow approached it and he picked it up gently but warely. It was exactly how he remembered it: all black and with golden, patterned borders. He stood still with the box in his hands for a minute, hesitating. Then he finally opened it and he was greeted by a spinning ring and this melody:

youtube

-"Shadow! Have I shown you my favorite things yet? Wait here!" The young Shadow sat on her bed as she told him. Maria quickly came back with a box and she placed it on his side while she sat on the other. -"Check this out, it's a pink quartz! It kiiiinda looks like the Chaos Emeralds that grandpa works with but not really." Shadow held it and stared at it in awe. -"You like it? It's from Earth! Down there the crust is filled with all sorts of crystals and minerals that come in all the colors and shapes you can imagine. When I was little dad took me to his museum and it had a huge collection. You'd love it!" Shadow lifted his gaze from the quartz and looked at Maria with starry eyes, making her giggle. -"And look. This is a real magpie feather. It's iridescent, which means that it shines with a rainbowy gleam. Isn't that cool? It's a shame that pets aren't allowed in the ARK. One of the scientists told me that she has a parrot back home. It's also a bird but very, very colorful. I think that you'd like birds. Do you?" Shadow nodded enthusiastically. -"One day, when we finally can go back, I will show you all the coolest and prettiest things! I mean, the ARK is cool and all, but it's not the same as Earth. And it's definitely not as pretty. But don't tell grandpa I said that, he might get sad." And Shadow shook his head in reassurance. Taking a look at Maria's box, he noticed the smaller but prettier box so he pointed at it. -"Oh, this? It's a music box. You wind it up and when you open it the ring in the middle spins and it plays a pretty music! It's a bit sad though." She demonstrated and let Shadow hold it. He became instantly enraptured by the golden ring and its accompanying melody. -"It was a present from my mom. She told me that she received it as a gift too when she was younger. You know what, Shadow? When we move back to Earth I will give it to you as a welcoming gift." He turned his head to look at her with an expression of concern and tried to give back the music box. -"Shadow, I mean it! this will be your first earthly possession from me to you. I have plenty of stuff back home so I won't need it anymore, don't worry!" Shadow went back to admiring the music box and there was a brief moment of quiet that was broken by a sigh from Maria. The young hedgehog looked at her again. -"I hope that grandpa will finish my cure soon, I miss home, you know? I miss making lots of friends. And you know what? I know that when we get there you'll make lots of friends too! You are very special, Shadow. So it will be a piece of cake. I promise you!" And so she closed the music box in his hands to seal her promise.

The music box had stopped, the ring still in its velvety stand. Shadow stood there, shaking, clutching the box so hard it started to creak. His clenched teeth couldn't hold back a hick as sparse tears leaked from his eyes. There was no trap, there was no deception, no Black Doom, no impending threat. It was just him and this haunted place with all its excruciating memories. Why, then, was he drawn here? Why did he feel the need to inspect every nook and cranny? What else was there to do? What was wrong with him? -"...Why?"- He started to mutter in anguish. But his mind didn't get the chance to fall deeper into the pit when he received a call. -"Are you there, handsome?" It was Rouge's voice coming through his intercom. They hadn't spoken since the fight with the Time Eater. -"Shadow, are you ok?" He cleared his throat as best he could and answered. -"Yes, Rouge." -"Omega reached out as soon as we were out of the White Space and everyone on my side is accounted for. We knew that you should be ok but, between the two of us, your silence was getting to me."

-"Is... Is everyone ok?" Shadow's concern seemed to shock the bat. -"Oh? Well, yes. Although, Amy is a bit worked up that it took a literal existential threat for you to show up to Sonic's party." Usually Shadow would dismiss this kind of objections as vain and superfluous. But now, knowing that there were people seeking him out for these "lesser" things, it consoled him. -"Heh. I'm glad to hear that they have their priorities in order." -"I know, right? Tell me about it."- But she could tell that this wasn't his usual tone, so she insisted.- "Shadow, are you sure you're ok over there? Do you need backup?" -"No, it's alright. I just... needed to check something up here before I got back." -"Well, if you're good then I'll leave you to your own devices." -"Rouge. Can you do something for me?" -"Hm, I dunno. This girl has been doing a lot of favors today. Tell me and I'll think about it" -"Just tell them that I promise to show up next time." -"Aw, you're such a softie." -"And Rouge? Thank you, trully. For everything." -"Gosh, Shads. I didn't know that you bartered in sweet talk. Fine, I'll tell them. And by the way? Thank you too, handsome." Shadow took a deep breath to regain his composure and his body started to relax. He blinked as he came back to himself and looking down he was greeted by the open music box. "I suppose that we did meet again. I just wish... I just wish that it didn't hurt so much each time." This had been a long, exhausting day and he only wanted to lay down and rest, he wanted to go home. He retraced his steps, taking in his surroundings while still holding the box in his hands. Her room, the living quarters, the endless hallways... Maybe there was something left here to come back to, maybe it was good to remember all the good memories and the people who called this place home, maybe he wasn't alone as he thought. Maybe, maybe he was ok. Shadow reached the ARK's control room and through its windows he took a good long look at the Earth as the Sun warmly lit his face and the planet's rim. He gently closed the music box, looked at it and with a soft smile on his face he said: -"It's time that you and I, we both, go home."

#Shadow the Hedgehog #Shadow Generations #Without You #Maria Robotnik #fanfic #music box #feels #all of the feels #way too many feels #I was one the verge of tears while writting this #Sonic the Hedgehog #Well adjacent to

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yudrein-aile · 1 year ago

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Meta: Emperors and Usurpers (1/?) - The Reign of Emperor Katchian la Orr

It is only fitting that in a story about an Empire whose imperial lineage has withstood a millennia, it comes to a disastrous end once a new Emperor not from that lineage takes the throne. In my opinion, the reason Turning is such an appealing novel, is in part the author’s narrative style. Kuyu is a master in mentioning small matters and bringing them to immense plot relevance much later, but never in a way that the reader feels overwhelmed or could not imagine this turn. It makes re reading this novel a genuine joy because you start to pick up narrative parallels and foreshadowing.

This writing style extends to the politics present in the novel as well, which leads me to my main point and topic of this meta post: Keilusa la Orr, even in the first time line, was preparing to leave Kishiar with all the tools necessary to seize the throne himself in case Katchian turned out to be a tyrant.

Or short, Keilusa wanted his brother to do a regicide.

To put this into context, we first have to look at why Keilusa might be preparing in such a way and for that, we have to go to a time much beyond Keilusa and Kishiar: Yuder’s execution.

At the time of Yuder’s execution, the Orr Empire was already deeply destabilized.

“You are a criminal who forgot your duties and responsibilities as the commander of the cavalry, and dared to conspire with an absurd claim that you acted for the sake of the world. You trespassed into the forbidden sanctuary, attempting to steal the World Sphere. Do you acknowledge your involvement in the assassination of Duke of Peletta nine years ago, the destruction of the Pearl Tower seven years ago, the Red Field Rebellion five years ago, and countless other incidents that cannot be enumerated? When the truth was revealed, you shamelessly attempted to flee by joining forces with other countries.” (Chapter 1)

The accusations leveled against Yuder are quite heavy, especially considering he really only did two of them. He did kill Kishiar, even if that was on Katchian’s orders as he feared Kishiar organizing a rebellion (Chapter 166), and Yuder attempted to steal the World Sphere, which we know is practically useless.

The point, however, are the other things Yuder is accused of, such as the destruction of Pearl Tower, the Red Field Rebellion, and collaboration with other countries. We’ll take those one by one.

Yuder had nothing to do with the destruction of Pearl Tower, even if he did think it was a “good riddance” (Chapter 34). Pearl Tower, however, was still the leading institution on magic on the continent (Chapter 26). Its destruction had to be a tremendous loss for the Orr Empire.

Similarly, the Red Field Rebellion appears to have been one of the biggest players attempting to kill Katchian during his reign (Chapter 630). At this point, the people were rallying against “the Emperor’s tyranny” (Chapter 630). Never mind that at the same time, the duchies were pressured by Katchian, so that they also didn’t particularly like him either. It has to be noted here that Yuder, once again, was the one stopping Marin’s first assassination attempt and it took knights sent by Katchian, the imperial army, and the Cavalry to take her down (630).

But why were the people rebelling against Katchian? To answer this question, we have to examine how Katchian (didn’t) care for the Empire and its people.

Yuder himself notes that Katchian was “the type who insisted on personally verifying everything. If put positively, he was cautious; negatively, overly suspicious. As he grew older, he began to doubt everything more and more, and in the end, he didn't even dare to deal closely with his overly powerful subordinates.” (107)

Katchian, ironically much like Yuder, decides to deal with everything himself. He doesn’t delegate, not because he necessarily considers himself to be the best at everything, which is Yuder’s issue, but because he doesn’t trust his subordinates. As the ruler of an Empire, Katchian’s unwillingness to rely on others, however, means that he makes decisions incredibly slowly and solutions are found similarly slowly. Acting on your own might result in quick solutions, yet the Emperor might assume you seek to betray him as you didn’t ask for permission.

Additionally, the Emperor is not shy in getting rid of anyone opposing him. After the poisoning event, Yuder recalls that speaking ill in front of the Emperor during the first disaster resulted in those people “secretly [being] killed by drinking the second poison that induced a burning throat.” (151) Katchian wanted such things to be handled in his absence, and the one to handle all kinds of assassination, more often than not, was Yuder. This went as far as Yuder calling himself “a tool of punishment when the Emperor suspected someone of treason.” (166)

It becomes evident that Katchian’s style of ruling appears focused on holding a few powerful people on a tight leash. He sends Yuder to kill Kishiar, forcing him to “Show me your worth, the reason I should keep the Cavalry around” (1031). Katchian relies on blackmail, on endlessly having people prove their loyalty to him, while at the same time using their actions to put “the final nail in the coffin” (815) if he desired to get rid of them.

Katchian’s entourage was filled with “many individuals who veiled their crooked ambitions as loyalty, intending to shake their own lords, and even the whole country. […] These types of individuals were loyal when their superiors followed the paths they desired. However, the moment things took a different turn, they would change their direction, claiming it was all for your sake, ready to tear your throat out.” (243) Thus it was no surprise that Katchian kept Yuder, as his most useful attack dog, on a short leash, and that Katchian, who “despised any potential threats, […] showed mercy to those who kept a low profile and collaborated.” (340)

Yuder continued to prove over and over again that he was loyal to the Emperor, yet Katchian did very little personally to repay Yuder for that. We know that Katchian did nothing to help elevate Yuder’s status in a meaningful way. Yuder was known as a “lowly commoner and an omega, treated as neither a proper man nor a woman” (999) and he was surrounded of rumors making him out to be a monster who would “cruelly use his power to kill people whenever he got angry”. (999)

At the same time, Katchian bequeathed Yuder with “with countless lands and treasures” (173), for which Yuder did not care. To outsiders, Katchian was honoring Yuder’s service in a way Yuder could not even complain about, while actually giving him very little of use. A perfect example of this is the black thornwood staff Yuder receives from Katchian.

“In fact, the item was of no use to an Awakener. Unlike mages, the Awakeners did not utilize magic power. Though it might have some use if already processed into a magic tool, in its pure magic stone form, it was merely a useless ornament. The black thornwood that held it was also not the commonly used white birch or the noble applewood favored by the Founding Emperor, but rather a wood that was prone to decay and weakness, and thus not often used in fine craftsmanship. Emperor Katchian must have known that the magic stone staff would not be of much use to Yuder. But if the Emperor had bestowed it as a symbol of the Commander of the Cavalry, such a point could not be dwelt upon.” (389)

Katchian also continuously “praised Yuder's abilities as the Empire's most valuable jewel in the presence of foreign envoys” (473), which rings hollow as Katchian praising himself for having such a useful servant.

When Yuder speaks up about the correlation between the disasters and the cracks, he is not believed by Katchian either, despite, essentially, providing at least a hint for the disasters striking the West and South, providing a starting point for researching counter measures.

It has to be noted that the other people also did not believe Yuder (Chapter 1), but the main point here, however, is that Katchian, despite Yuder’s loyalty, did not trust him.

To return to the topic of Katchian’s rule, it was to be noted that he enjoyed the lavish lifestyle of an Emperor.

“Seeing the simple yet elegant dishes made with seasonal ingredients, Yuder was reminded of the imperial cuisine he had experienced under Emperor Katchian. The food he had seen then had been uniformly large, flashy, and seasoned lavishly with expensive spices. Despite the increasing scarcity of ingredients due to ongoing climatic anomalies and disasters, Emperor Katchian had never cut corners. His extravagant imperial cuisine had quickly become symbolic of both him and the then Orr Empire.” (Chapter 471)

The people of the Orr Empire are suffering from “earthquakes, droughts, and all kinds of disasters […] and countless people dying” (301), but the Emperor throws lavish banquets and enjoys all the delicacies. It is easy to see why there were so many attempts to kill him. Yuder notes that even during banquets, where he might have been invited to as a guest, Yuder was most familiar with “the corner of the shade below the platform, where he could perfectly protect Emperor Katchian from any assassins that might suddenly barge in.” (999)

Even at the start of Katchian’s reign, years before the disasters happen, the situation is troubled. “All kinds of crimes, including human trafficking, raged out of control as illegal fighting arenas became popular among the dissolute nobles” (269). The one to deal with these issues is Yuder, though it is noted that Katchian gained “considerable fame” (269), although the novel does not elaborate whether that is because Katchian seized the assets of the nobles or because this actually helped the people. Considering what we see of his rule long-term, I would bet on the former.

Now the final question is, why did Katchian turn out this way?

If we look at Katchian’s origins, we’re faced with a child, who grew up, maybe not even in his biological father’s care, as a bastard forced to hide his identity, living not with his family’s riches, but in poverty (Chapter 630-632).

This only changes when the Diarca suddenly need a crown prince candidate. They want to establish themselves as the next imperial lineage. After succeeding to do so in the first timeline, they showed a “subtle sense of superiority […] [which] stirred considerable resentment” (148), but that doesn’t mean they actually wanted a competent emperor. For the longest time, people assumed that “Duke Diarca was the real Emperor” (166).

They want someone easily controlled and thus, most likely, also do not see the point in educating him properly. During the harvest festival, Yuder notes that “the person causing trouble around the Cavalry was Duke Diarca, even if it seemed outwardly to be the Crown Prince.” (121) While Katchian is Crown Prince, the Diarca hide many of their schemes behind his power, waiting for their chance to act. Duke Diarca at one point notes that he has more soldiers, that all the judges are paid off, he has firmly established their family as the most powerful in the Empire (Chapter 1019).

Naturally, Katchian is not content with simply being Diarca’s puppet emperor. Yuder recalls that in the “in his previous life, [Katchian] had never contradicted Diarca or acted alone until he became Emperor” (152), which implies that he was bidding his time.

While Katchian is Emperor, he is characterized as someone who cared about maintaining his position and is described as “sensitive to external recognition” (166). Yuder also notes that Katchian did pay “considerable attention to state affairs, and skillfully pacified and collaborated with the nobles. However, he was relentless if he ever suspected someone of coveting his position.” (166)

Considering all this, it paints the picture of an Emperor deeply concerned with the matters of the imperial court, while leaving little time and awareness for the Empire at large, thus resulting in the continued suffering of its citizens.

It is, however, no surprise that Katchian is so concerned with himself. Even as a prince, he was “compared to a splendid flower since his childhood for his exceptional beauty.” (121) His facial features are the only reason he ever became crown prince in the first place. They are, in a way, his only legitimacy as the crown prince selection was rigged and Keilusa’s original choice for an heir died (Chapter 169).

Duke Diarca also seeks to reaffirm this believe in Katchian as we see in this scene:

“Do you know who gave me this mirror?” “It was... I heard it was His Highness, Duke Diarca.” “Yes.” Katchian’s lips curled into a derisive smile, reflecting in the mirror. “He sent me this, telling me to reflect on my status every day.” (204)

It is thus also not surprising that Katchian “erased all traces of the entire imperial family” (347) so that not even a portrait of them could be found. It is not just that he perceived Kishiar as a threat, it gives Katchian more room to establish his own legitimacy.

Katchian early on develops a sever inferiority complex over his looks. We see this most severely in the aftermath of the assassination attempt.

“Though Katchian, the crown prince, had fully recovered from the physical wounds of the assassin's attack, his mental state had not improved at all. Every day, he lashed out and broke objects, as if his previously wicked laughter had been but an illusion. The primary cause of his madness was the unbearable scar on his face.” (303)

Katchian threatens his servants of several occasions, escalating even as far as injuring and killing them. To deal with his own mental state, he further takes drugs capable of functioning as pain killers for their “mood-enhancing effects” (205).

Of course we cannot talk about Katchian’s mental state without mentioning the Sage. The Sage’s doctrine that “the superior should punish and make [the weak] repent” (493) must have deeply appealed to Katchian. Yuder notes that “Katchian’s trust in the man had been deep at the time” (493) and that if Yuder had not connected him to the Star of Nagran, Katchian would’ve executed him. So in part, Katchian’s deteriorating mental state cannot be blamed just on himself, but also on the Sage, who manipulated him. The aftereffects of this severely impacted his relationship to Yuder as well, as he grew mistrustful of Yuder too (Chapter 136).

And now, the final nail in the coffin of Katchian’s rule: his foreign policy. While Katchian did not react appropriately to the disasters, he did try to help the West recover and initiate changes in the Empire. He poured “effort into commercial policies” (345) and began “trading with other countries much more actively for a while” (345). It is noted that this stands in direct opposition to Keilusa’s rule. It should also be pointed out here that Katchian participated in illegal trade, gaining the magic stone of the Cavalry Commander’s staff through such means (389).

Katchian’s foreign policy was protested against, but failed to achieve genuine results against his will. ‘Positively’, we have to say that Katchian at the very least did not let xenophobia stop him from trying to exploit foreign countries. Still, he feared that “envoys from other countries, including the South, might extract information about the Cavalry or the Awakener management system” (391) and thus remained wary of them and did not allow them to interact with Yuder. Had he allowed for a closer collaboration, he might have realized which Southern traders might be out to scam citizens of the empire.

However, the project failed as Katchian’s policy “didn’t bring about effective results without sufficient disaster recovery” (345). Naturally, the result was Yuder being sent out for assassinations once again.

It is, however, understandable while Katchian might try to trade with other countries, especially considering the growing influence of Nelarn. Katchian “was wary of Nelarn swallowing him up” (173), even if that never happened until Yuder died. To understand why Katchian was so scared of Nelarn, we have to take a brief look at King Ejian. Yuder describes that Ejain, upon meeting him for the first time “seemed less like a human named Ejain and more like 'the King of Nelarn' itself” (247). Few rulers managed to lead their nation well “amidst the tumultuous times.” (173)

Ejain, opposed to Katchian, fought his battle to even get the throne, his legitimacy was not an issue. He was well-admired as a king, “never committed any tyranny” (247), and even stabilized the Western countries (Chapter 277). As an Awakener too, Ejain personally was incredibly powerful. Under his rule, Nelarn grew into a power comparable to the Empire, willing to risk war with the Orr Empire (301).

Ejain going as far as sneaking somebody into the prison to break out a man convicted of high treason is nothing short than risking hostile retaliation, which means that Ejain was not only confident that Nelarn could withstand it, but also that Yuder would be worth it.

Thus Katchian’s Empire was falling apart while the neighboring country was thriving.

So where does that leave us? With a picture of a rather incompetent Emperor, who leads the Orr Empire down the path of ruin. While Katchian could have done nothing to foresee the disasters, he could have reacted more appropriately. His habit of executing everyone speaking out against him also did not help. Considering that he showed the tendencies that would later characterize his rule already early, it is no surprise that Keilusa, upon realizing his brother is healthy, started planning to give Kishiar the capability to keep Katchian in check or, if more drastic measures were required, get rid of him altogether.

#turning #katchian la orr #kishiar la orr #yuder aile #keilusa la orr #meta #why am i doing this to myself

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inspofromancientworld · 6 months ago

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Code of Hammurabi

By Mbzt - Own work, CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=16931676

The Code of Hammurabi was written between 1755-1850 BCE in Akkadian and inscribed on a basalt stele, or stone pillar, that is 2.25m (7' 4.5") tall. It was rediscovered in 1901 in Susa, Iran, was taken as plunder, and now is in the Louvre Museum in Paris France. It is the longest, most organized, and best preserved legal code of the ancient Near East. It is not the oldest, though. That title goes to the Code of Ur-Nammu, which was written around 2100-2050 BCE and was still being copied when Hammurabi's code was written. There did seem to be a change in focus, though, from compensation in the Code of Ur-Nammu to punishment in the Code of Hammurabi.

By Mbzt - Own work, CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=59794940

The top of the stele has an image of Hammurabi and Shamash, the Babylonian god of the sun and justice, on it. The figure on the left is standing, facing the other with one hand raised and the other held across the waist with fabric draped over his arm. The other is seated, wearing a multilayered skirt, holding a rod and ring in one hand, seemingly offering or accepting it, with what might be the back of the chair or rays coming from behind his shoulders. Whether the standing figure is Hammurabi or Shamash is up for debate. The Rod and ring are thought to be measuring tools or emblems of kingship.

By Deror avi - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=6042133

In total, there are 4130 lines of text on the stele. The first 300 go through Hammurabi's royal authority based on his family line and being chosen by Marduk, the patron deity of Babylon, and other gods conferred on him. He then enumerates his many qualities as king, including being 'pious' repeatedly. The last lines of the introduction state that the the writing of the Code was to fulfill Marduk's request to 'establish "truth and justice"…for the people'.

The next 3330 lines enumerate the laws of the Code. These lines cover approximately 282 laws covering a wide range of topics from offenses against the law such as leveling false charges through to property law, trade law to family law, as well as labor laws. It isn't, however, a complete codex of the laws of the land as it misses laws relating to shepherds though it covers laws relating to cattle herders. The laws are also written in an 'if…then…' format, lacking any generalized laws as well as covering some extremely unlikely events, like using goats (very unruly animals) to thresh grain. It also apparently wasn't used very much by judges at the time based on the fact that no legal documentation that we have references it. The closest is two references to 'a stele', but many judgments cite royal decrees, and many judgments run counter to the Code.

Some think that the Code isn't an actual list of laws, but an example of how judgments should be formulated, that it was meant to be a work of scholarship. Supporting this is that the laws come in pairs, such as one that says a physician should be paid if they perform a service that heals while they should be punished if the treatment causes death or blindness. Laws also differed based on the offender and the victim. There were three levels of people listed, awīlum, muškēnum, and wardum (male)/amtum (female). Wardum and amtum are the slave class. The other two are uncertain, but most likely 'gentleman' and 'commoner' respectively. There were also nuances within the classes themselves, based on laws that reference one being higher than another.

The final 500 lines reiterate that Hammurabi established the law, that the law should be read aloud to anyone who wrongheadedly brings a lawsuit, and a wish for good fortune on those that follow the laws and the wrath of the gods on those who ignore it. Twelve gods are invoked to punish those who don't acknowledge or adhere to the Code.

#code of hammurabi #legal codes #babylon #ancient history #history

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mariacallous · 1 year ago

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The soon-to-be ruling party in Britain has alighted on two motifs for its general election campaign: the red, white, and blue Union Jack and the word “change.”

If he is to win, Keir Starmer, the Labour Party leader, must pull off a voting shift greater even than that achieved by his mentor Tony Blair in 1997, the last time their party seized power. Yet such is the calamitous state of the Conservatives that after 14 years of misrule, a victory for Labour has been pretty much priced in for the election on July 4.

The only question is how great a majority it will achieve and whether that can produce a buffer large enough to keep it in power for a decade at least to tackle Britain’s many woes—from the economy to the health service, education, social care, and failed privatizations such as the postal service and water. Indeed, pretty much every area of public infrastructure needs repair.

There is another problem, one that is harder to enumerate but that also goes to the core of Britain’s unhappiness. Starmer often points to, if obliquely, the loss of the country’s status, its decline in esteem around the world and among the British themselves. There is little any government can, or should, do to address broad historical sweeps that produce such cultural malaise, such as postcolonial decline (which also affects France and similar countries).

What governments can do is chart a new course. Blair tried to modernize Britain’s image, with some success, at least until the Iraq War in 2003. Since then, it has retreated into the default position of desperately clinging to past glories, applying balm to cover more contemporary wounds. Starmer, for his part, will not talk about the central cause, Brexit; he refuses to countenance a formal return to European Union structures.

There are other causes of Britain’s malaise, however. The two most recognizable emblems of Britain’s soft power, the royal family and the BBC, are themselves beleaguered. There is little Starmer can do to address the former (though, within months of taking office, Blair persuaded Queen Elizabeth to show a little less stiff upper lip following the death of Princess Diana).

But there is much the prospective incumbent in Downing Street can do to help sort out the national broadcaster. The BBC’s future matters far beyond the island’s shores. It is central to the global battle for hearts and minds, an important tool for liberal democracy to counter the increasingly successful disinformation strategies of Russia and China.

In short, a reinvigorated BBC would also reinvigorate Britain’s reputation in the world. But to achieve that is easier said than done and will require considerable surgery.

Nearly 20 years ago, I wrote a piece reworking the famous acronym as “Broken, Beaten, Cowed.” Needless to say, the higher-ups at the network didn’t appreciate it. I stood by my argument then. I feel even more vindicated now.

Some of the problems are self-inflicted. The organization’s management has struggled to deal with a string of HR scandals, some extraordinarily sordid, over the years. These have damaged its reputation.

In the many decades I have known, and contributed to, the BBC, relations between staff and management have veered between suspicion and acrimony. Both sides seem to be equally responsible. The tens of thousands who work there have a deeply embedded civil service mentality. For many of these “lifers,” it has been their only employer.

Most of those now in charge of the organization have spent much of their careers outside it. That brings with it a difference in perspective but also a lack of loyalty to a venerable institution. They have pushed out a large proportion of the news and current affairs department and shut or pared back important foreign bureaus. Much expertise has gone with them. Many esteemed journalists have claimed they have been discriminated against and sometimes humiliated, while being encouraged to leave. Several employment tribunals are ongoing.

The bigger issues at stake are financial and political. The BBC has had to operate in an environment of deliberately stoked hostility. A series of Conservative culture ministers, almost one for each year in office, have either loathed or barely tolerated the publicly funded corporation. Its budget has been cut; its system of funding through a direct tax, the license fee, is now open to debate. Meanwhile, a Fox News-style culture warrior channel called GB News has been lavished with praise by the government.

The organization is facing a series of technological and demographic headwinds. Far fewer Gen Zers watch and listen to BBC output than older generations (a problem that other legacy media organizations grapple with). In a bid to keep up with the times, the BBC has changed the nature of much of its content. Serious detailed documentaries take second place to competing with TikTok.

The evening current affairs program Newsnight, on air since 1980, is now a low-cost, low-grade chat show. The morning radio program, called Today, which used to be an appointment to listen, has replaced much of its (more expensive) international coverage with round-Britain lifestyle segments.

The most visible area of withering is in the BBC’s global output. In a note to staff in April announcing her departure after only three years as director of the World Service, Liliane Landor expressed deep concern about the “operational capability” of the service, which broadcasts in 42 languages. “With media freedom under threat, the World Service is a force for good and the BBC needs to look after it,” Landor said in a statement.

The BBC announced in September 2022 that nearly 400 jobs in its global arm would be lost to save 28.5 million pounds (about $35.6 million). Several languages have been dropped, including Arabic, with Persian to follow. In 2021, the BBC spent 290 million pounds ($368 million) on the service, with the government, via the Foreign Office, committing to invest a further 94 million pounds ($120 million) a year until next March. After this, funding is up for grabs.

BBC Director General Tim Davie, while pushing through the cuts, has urged the government to provide more of the funding. “We cannot keep asking U.K. license fee payers to invest in it when we face cuts to U.K. services,” he said. “We will need to discuss a long-term funding solution … that comes from central government budgets.”

Back in 2021, during the height of the COVID-19 fake news battle, the government gave the BBC an extra pot of money to fight disinformation coming from Russia, China, and elsewhere. The idea was to help expand a new unit verifying information and tackling bots. The sum, 8 million pounds ($11 million), while not unwelcome, was a drop in the ocean and does not compensate for the contraction of its traditional journalism.

The organization’s most recent annual report revealed that the weekly reach of the World Service had declined 12 percent year-on-year to 318 million people. Shortly after celebrating its centenary, the BBC is losing global influence at a time when it is most needed, with democracy in so much peril in so many parts of the world.

Starmer and his ministers will not want to get involved in the BBC’s day-to-day problems. Indeed, they will be keen, after a decade of interference by the Conservatives, to give it more operational independence.

Yet if there is one area where the government should be active, it is in preserving and extending the BBC’s role in providing impartial and reliable news and analysis to as many people as possible around the world. That will cost money – and Labour has made clear it will not spend what it can’t afford. Much of it could be found by abolishing the comical ‘GREAT’ campaign of British flag-waving that costs the taxpayer 60 million pounds per year. The government will have to do a new cost-sharing deal with the BBC and even if a little more has to be found, it is surely a price worth paying to give the UK an influence in the world it has steadily lost.

Whatever the costs, the long-term cost of watching as the organization’s international output continues to wither will be greater still.

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