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#the pro life compassion we all know

jewishvitya · 5 months

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I just wanted to thank you so much for all of your insight and generosity with your perspective as an anti-zionist israeli, something you absolutely don't owe us but I feel immense amounts of respect and admiration for. from an American jew, it's been so valuable to know there are people like you out there, it's made everything feel much less hopeless despite all the hopelessness. I've felt very alone recently, surrounded by all the Jewish people in my life who are pro-israel and don't seem to grasp the gravity of the situation and my pro-palestine gentile friends, and I've felt very alone in my grief as I've only really started to unpack and dismantle my own biases very recently. reading your posts and your perspective on everything has just made me feel very seen as a jew in this situation, especially as I try to reconcile my feelings about everything going on with my own feelings about my faith and my identity.

you've probably seen that I've gone through a lot of your posts and that I've followed you. i just want you to know that I'm not necessarily following you just for that, I know you're just a fandom blog, it's just that after looking through your posts I feel like you're just a really nice person and seeing yoi on my dash from you would be endearing coming from you even though im not into it myself.

just. thank you again for sharing your story and continuing to share. you have no idea how much it's helped me.

I'm in tears. I've been crying way more than usual over the past couple of months, but it's nice for a change to have those tears to come from being touched instead of grief. I apologize if I'm going to ramble.

You say I didn't owe you all this, but I do feel responsible. I'm watching so much destruction and seeing how comfortable people around me are with the loss of life. This is why I've been talking about what we do and not as much about the impact of October 7 on me or people I know. I did a bit of that in the beginning, but pretending it was the start of everything to keep going back to that one day, after two months of horror, as if I can't count past 7... I didn't choose to be born where I am, I didn't choose to grow up in the most extremist community this place has to offer. But since I'm here, since I'm comfortable at the expense of Palestinians and violence is being done in my name and I have the tools to highlight issues within my society, I think it's a moral obligation.

I know how I talk about things here, and that's genuinely because I don't want to minimize the severity of the racism and the nationalism in Israel. And someone perceived my words as showing hatred for Israelis. But... I love my people. I don't expect those who see or experience our violence to feel the same or even understand me, but I do. It's my neighbors and my childhood friends and my family. It's children I see playing outside and getting excited when they see I have a cat, and the random people who stop me in the street and give me directions if they think I look lost.

Even growing up in the West Bank settlements, the people were very good to me. I needed years to internalize the fact that this kindness doesn't get extended to you if you're not part of the in-group. It broke my heart. It still does. Seeing people who I know are capable of kindness and compassion, hardening themselves against the pain of other human beings. Closing their eyes and telling themselves it isn't real. It's all an act.

I told a friend I feel like I'm betraying my mom, who was deeply bigoted, but also a wonderful mother. She taught me a lot of the principles that are guiding me now - I just took down the walls she put around who deserves to be considered. She'd be horrified with seeing the things I'm saying if she was still alive. But she taught me to care about people, I just decided it means all people.

Everyone should be prioritizing Palestinian liberation, and at the same time, I care about this too. I care about the morality of my people. I need us to be better than this. I want to dismantle the nationalism that teaches us hate and violence so we can start to heal and come to terms with what we did (and still do) here. I want us to fix what we can and hold ourselves accountable. I want us to reimagine safety in a way that doesn't cause harm, and build good relationships with the rest of humanity. Every marginalized community is experiencing bigotry in interactions with every other community, that's just how these things work. But I believe healing the world, and healing my society, is possible.

And it's hard, because so much of what we learn is rooted in truth. Antisemitism is real. Millennia of persecution are real. The trauma we carry is real. If the idea of an ethnostate makes us feel safe, and the idea of losing it makes us scared, how do we differentiate between fear as a natural reaction to antisemitic violence and fear that was taught to us for the sake of nationalism? Especially those of us living in Israel, immersed in the propaganda. It doesn't matter in practice, our feelings of safety or fear don't justify an ethnostate, especially not one built on top of another nation, but it matters for the conversations I have with people.

And I said that the violence I'm seeing feels like an attack on my identity. Seeing a giant hannukiyah in Gaza, when Hannukah tells the story of occupied people fighting off their oppressors. Seeing images that echo so much of the horrors that were done to us. The Magen David being used with hate and spite. It's all so painful. And I love this land, it's the only home I've known, so seeing us destroying nature and soaking it with blood and calling that connection?

Judaism does guide me here. The concept of tikkun olam. The idea of לא עליך המלאכה לגמור ולא אתה בין חורין לבטל ממנה - doing what I can, even if what I'm able to do isn't some decisive blow that entirely turns the tide. The idea that every human being is a whole entire world, to me it means that every single person alive is worth fighting for. So no matter how much death I see, there's still worlds more to save.

And Jewitches had this post that felt just healing to read. Nationalism hijacked our culture, and it will always leave a mark for centuries into the future. But I'm not letting go, and I'm not letting that create a rift between me and thousands of years full of history I can be proud of.

I feel your grief. And I'm grateful for the anti-zionist Jews I met by talking about this, because honestly, I need you people in my life. The pain and the anger are both easier to hold together.

So, thank you for following. I might follow back, just to see you around on my feed. And thank you for sending this. Feel free to message me anytime for any reason (I promise it won't result in a lecture every time).

Also, your url gave me pjo nostalgia

#riki babbles

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neotrances · 5 months

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like i cannot believe the bar we’re at is “i will not vote for someone who is pro genocide” like that’s where we are at, and then ppl look at you crazy for it “b-but if u don’t vote blue they’ll genocide the people in AMERICAAA” they have been doing that to the marginalized here for centuries and u ignore it for whatever reason but also u have a lack of compassion towards others across the globe, im not waiting to be personally affected to be disgusted, biden has been pushing laws that directly hurt the black community all my life i’ve never liked him but going on live tv and signing off on televised genocide is unforgivable and i don’t know how anyone could sleep at night knowing they helped him continue to harm innocent people just like them

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lovelyiida · 5 months

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what if pro hero bkg is in a relationship with a reader and she later confesses to him that she is a villain and has been tasked with seducing him but she fell for him fr?? how would he react?

❥: when I go through my asks I always circle back and read this one. And whoever you are out there; I’m finally gonna do it lmao. I think I gave this ask a more poetic adaptation so it may not be the best when it comes to getting straight to the point so I apologize in advance :D

FEM READER X BAKUGO, SEMI-VULGAR LANG (mentions intimate body parts), NO PROOF READ!!

traitor, nymphoid, huntress, cold-hearted, ruthless, calculated.

that’s who you were, and you were never told you were anything else. You had a role within society; kill or be killed. And you decided to kill.

Seven months you’ve been killing, killing ever so slowly—ever so softly.

Kill him with a dagger, kill him with a gun, kill him within an injection. No, kill him with something unexpected…something beyond his own comprehension.

Kill him with love.

You knew he’d be easy to obtain, a young pro-hero experienced within every aspect of heroism. Except for his birth-given right; love.

But where you knew he lacked, you once flourished. A villain isn’t born, a villain is created by the villainy of society.

Sweetheart, caring, selfless, sensual, beautiful, smart…

These words that he called you; foreign to your own being sent shivers down your spine. With every word uttered a piece of you is reformed.

The way his eyes sparkle when his looks into yours. The way his smile grows as he hangs on to your every word. The way the slightest touches sends a spark through your every being.

The way your souls dance within every moment you’re together.

When was the last time you actually danced?

A hidden compassion? All behind closed doors. A connection no one else can see, no one else can know, no one else can understand. A connect you’re willing to give away your life for.

What about killing him? Yearning to end him? Yearning for revenge? Yearning for victory?

Why do you feel so foreign? Why do you yearn to give the deepest parts of your soul to him?

Do you even believe if you showed the real you to him; he would give you his soul in return?

Your souls cannot dance any longer, so why do you yearn for them to merge?

Why do you yearn for him?

Tears, regret, shame, anger, heartbreak…

“So what? What we had wasn’t real?” The young hero looks at you. Eyes glossed in anger as he pried answers from you.

“It was everything I thought it would be” you said, eyes dull; emotionless. You watch as the blonde shifts back into the metal seat. A heartbroken scowl trying not to emerge in front of you, he won’t give you that satisfaction.

“But, it was nothing I could’ve prepared myself for.”

You sat before him, dirty, wounded, defeated, and uncovered. The league of villains were unsuccessful with a certain phase of the plan, and decided to throw you under the bus.

They knew you were the easiest to dispose of, the most weak-minded, the most-likely to break.

Taking a deep breath, you try to look into his eyes but you cower at the sheer thought of an attempt. “Bakugo, what we had didn’t matter to me, you were just a quota with a dick.”

Looking up at him, with a shit-eating grin you pose your best poker face. The blonde was reationless. Slowly standing up; his movements were calculated.

Turning off the camera with ease, he stands and looks into your eyes. A face of disappointment and longing.

“Dispatch—videotape 009 clear” Bakugo shouts out to the air. An “All clear,” sounded off with a loud buzz.

Looking down, you jolt as the iron cuffs slipped from your wrists. The hero then grabs you with force and leads you out the door.

Leading you underground, he then throws you into your cell with force. Huffing out a groan in pain you scurry to the bars.

Eyes filled with tears and lip quivering, you look into his eyes. “Katsuki—“

“Katsuki? You have no right” he scoffed, turning his back to you he begins to walk away.

Frantic, you yell out his name once more. “Katsuki, I love you! I mean that!” You cried. Stopping in his tracks, he turns to look at you once more.

Eyes cold, calculated, evil.

“I gave you a chance in there to prove yourself and you didn’t, y/n.”

“You’re dead to me.”

❥: @xo-evangeline , @nar00 , @king-dynamight , @gold24fish , @lovra974 , @bakugospartner , @gaby-11 , @akqsa-xxi , @jolynegf , @goldenglow149 , @aliruuiz , @zukowantshishonourback , @ilovedenk-i , @atsushiki , @smolbeanzzz , @lem-hhn , @stevenknightmarc , @ryumiii , @idontevenknowlolls , @lyn07 , @kennshifts , @ackerman-suck-3-r , @elegantvoids , @thecurlyhairedgoddess , @sunyrose , @thisbicc , @thekookiecorner , @snxwycloud , @skylardarling

#mha headcanons #lovelyiida #mha imagines #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha #bnha headcanons #bnha insert #mha fanfiction #bakugo x reader

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tanadrin · 11 months

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You're not wrong about anything wrt cost of flying, but man is it bracing to wake up to a reminder that I can never ethically see most of my loved ones in-person again.

hmm. i think this is also the wrong way to think about it. flying is not a sin. being in some indirect way responsible for a certain amount of carbon emissions does not Taint Your Soul. and absolutist frameworks for this kind of thing are not helpful to anybody, least of all the people who actually might already be contributing to fixing problems like this through positive behaviors, like voting or political organizing.

the problem with carbon emissions is that they're a difficult to solve collective action problem, where a lot of the incentives point in a harmful direction, not that they are Fundamentally Immoral, and i think that's an important distinction to make, because i think a handful of semi-scrupulous individuals flagellating themselves and depriving themselves of things that would make them happy in the long run has no real effect on big problems like this. you not seeing your family is not going to fix global warming! and there are not enough people who are willing or able to act on guilt alone to refrain from flying that it's going to meaningfully dent emissions from the air transport sector.

what we need are policies that shape collective decisionmaking. this is why a fat carbon tax (especially when coupled with a rebate for lower-income people) can be a useful policy: it might make it harder to fly to visit family, but it won't make it categorically impossible, and it will reduce air travel in general, or encourage finding lower-carbon alternatives that allow people to travel just as much, like high-speed trains or, i don't know, some kind of fancy jet fuel that emits less CO2.

honestly, if you vote consistently for pro-environmental policies and parties, if you donate a bit of spare cash from time to time to the same, and/or if you are minimally politically active in other ways, and you're not, like, the CEO of BP in your professional life, you are fine. go, free from sin. if everyone did that, the problem of carbon emissions could be solved in a few years. now, you might go, "but not everyone is doing that!" well, not everyone is sitting at home miserable because they missed seeing grandma on her deathbed; that won't solve global warming either. in fact, it will do even less to solve global warming, because it is (and i say this with compassion) an anxious, guilt-ridden, useless gesture meant to salve your own spirit, not actually a contribution to solving the problem.

in general, i am really opposed to letting a vast and nebulous sense of guilt on big, systemic problems shape your personal behaviors. none of the behaviors that these feelings of guilt ban ever contribute to significant or systemic improvements in the problem--guilt is not building nuclear plants or preventing oil from being drilled. and in my experience, the kind of people who feel this guilt are prone to anxiety, maybe as kids were made overly responsible for the emotional state of people around them, and thus feel an outsized sense of responsibility in other areas of their life, and they mistakenly think that 1) this is a healthy way to go through life, 2) if they don't go through life this way they're a Bad Person, and 3) most people (or most people they think of as Good People) feel this way.

i wish to free people from this burden. there are no individual solutions to big collective action problems! and if reading about global warming, or racism, or poverty, or any other big social problem fills you with an enormous sense of guilt and has you wracking your brain for ways you can help by cutting/reducing/abstaining from things in your life, congratulations, you are one of many people in this world who can be at least 300% more selfish and still be a certified Good Person. so, uh, chill.

#wait is oil 'drilled' or 'mined' or 'dug up' or what?#what is the verb here to refer to the process of oil extraction #is it just 'extraction'?#you drill *for* oil #but do you *drill* oil?#anyway here's another plug for The Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents #because this kind of Eldest Daughter/I Must Fix Everything syndrome #can be a result of a particular kind of emotional immaturity on your parents' part #and i suspect but cannot prove #a lot of people who feel this way had parents whose emotional state #they had to be very sensitive to

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coopigeoncoo · 9 months

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Pairing: Todoroki Shouto x Gender Neutral Reader

Rating: Teen+

Tags: Reader-Insert, Stalking, Kidnapping, Attempted Kidnapping, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Psychological Torture (There is a plot for a character to get kidnapped and assaulted, but it doesn't actually happen), Sex Toys, Happy Ending

---

A late night meal delivery to Pro Hero Shouto goes terribly wrong, leaving you trapped in a room together with no obvious means of escape. You find yourself holding out hope not just for a rescue, but also for Shouto to somehow stay oblivious to the massive crush you've had on him for months now.

With the outlook for you future growing increasingly hazy, one thing becomes pointedly clear:

You can't keep things bottled up forever.

---

"It's true we don't know what might happen to us," Shouto admitted, his mismatched eyes locked onto yours; intense and mesmerizing. "But we'll face it together, okay?"

"Okay," you swallowed thickly. "But I think you definitely pulled the short straw as far as teammates go."

"Really?" Shouto asked, his eyes shining as he stared at you. "I don't think I could have chosen anyone better if I tried."

---

Continue reading below or follow the link to Ao3!

Society is built on a series of white lies, little untruths we tell ourselves to make life seem more bearable. Things like how good will always prevail over evil, that hard work equates to success, and that your Quirk didn't dictate the direction your life took.

You had some increasingly strong suspicions about those first two platitudes, but the fact that you had a teleportation Quirk and had only ever been hired for courier work left you feeling very certain that the last one was absolute bullshit.

Last month your boss had commemorated your third year of employment at Über Munch, a meal delivery service for Heroes, with a mesh bag half-full of dollar store candy and a keychain with the company logo on it in lieu of something you would actually appreciate.

Like a raise. Or a day off once and a while.

So you were feeling pretty unenthusiastic about work these days now that you knew how little your effort was actually valued by the suits down at the corporate office. You had never been this tempted to quit before and knew it would likely be a smart move to start sending out resumes and have something else lined up for when you eventually snapped, but it was hard to actually put forth the effort when you didn't totally hate your job most days.

Your Quirk, Revisit, allows you to instantaneously travel to anywhere you've walked before. It made some aspects of your job easier, like quickly delivering meals directly to Hero agencies in the major metropolitan area; but it didn't make it effortless. Some orders were just more difficult to fulfill than others.

A call from Fat Gum always requires multiple trips from a handful of different restaurants to fulfill, a task that left you winded and lightheaded from both the quantity of food you had to carry and overusing your Quirk. But he always tipped generously, which was more than you could say for other Heroes. Accepting an order from Vine would guarantee that you would end up dumped on the edge of some overgrown forest with a bag of vegetable samosas in one hand and a compass in the other, rewarded for all your trouble with an evangelical comic tract once you'd actually managed to track her down.

But then there were the clients you didn't mind getting calls from. Mt. Lady never ordered meals, she just wanted someone to drop off a bottle of her favorite bargain brand rosé on her days off so she could focus on relaxing. She'd answer the door in an old pair of sweatpants with a clay mask pasted thickly across her face, a rom-com blaring in the background as she accepted her delivery. It was a charmingly domestic view of a woman most often seen splashed across the covers of beauty magazines.

And then there was your favorite client of all, Todoroki Shouto. Every Tuesday and Thursday the same request would ping across the screen of your work phone: cold soba with extra ginger to be delivered to his agency precisely at eight thirty, which was when he took a break from his nightly paperwork. You'd started to become friendly over the course of your routine interactions, sharing courteous greetings and anecdotes from your respective work weeks. Shouto's stories were always more engaging than yours, but he was polite enough to laugh and offer commiseration at the appropriate points as he unpacked his dinner.

You tried to appreciate Shoto's companionship without interpreting his gentle smiles and welcoming demeanor as anything other than what they were; a show of kindness from a good man. But every time Shouto gifted you with a glimpse of his pearly whites you couldn't stop the sudden hitching of your breath, mind racing with snippets of impossible dreams you couldn't help but crave.

It was easy to let yourself imagine being with him; waking up in a tangle of limbs as early morning light streamed across your bedspread from between the too-wide gaps in your blinds. Knowing your breath was sour from sleeping but kissing him anyway, too needy for his attention to wait until after you'd brushed your teeth.

But you know life isn't like it is in the fairy tales. Princes don't marry peasants and pedigree Heroes don't end up with minimum wage service workers. You'd keep on delivering Shouto's noodles twice a week until inevitably, a year or two down the road, the tabloids would be saturated with news of his engagement to some super model or socialite. That was what was expected; what he deserved.

But you could, and would, fantasize about what could have been if things were just a little bit different. If you were richer or more successful. If you hadn't been too scared to take the entrance exams for placement at a Hero School. If you existed in the same social stratosphere as each other.

They were nice, those little flights of fancy you allowed yourself; the small sprinkles of sweetness that made the bitter taste of reality more palatable. You made time for one more brief daydream; a vision of gentle sighs and entwined fingers, before you dug your phone out of your pocket. Thumb swiping across the screen, you bring up your work app and see a new notification light up your screen: a request for cold soba with extra ginger.

With a weary sigh, you clutched your phone to your chest, screwed your eyes shut, and disappeared in a shower of sparks.

You'd become a regular feature around Shouto's agency, recognized on sight by the security guards and night cleaning crew. So the sudden appearance of a new receptionist next to the doors to Shouto's office was a jarring change in an otherwise predictable delivery routine. A sharp looking woman had replaced his usual assistant, the round-faced and rounder-bellied Mrs. Yamori; a devastatingly friendly and heavily pregnant woman with a heteromorphic gecko Quirk.

Customer service smile firmly in place, you approached the desk, checking the gleaming name plaque set in front of her.

"Hello, Ms. Yokubou!" You greeted cheerily, startling the receptionist who had been focused on sorting through a small pile of mail. "Did Mrs. Yamori go on maternity leave already?"

"How am I supposed to know?" The woman snapped, carefully placing a small box at the top of the stack. "I'm here to help Shouto, not spread office gossip."

"Right," you coughed nervously in the face of her hostility. "Well, I have his dinner. So I'll just go ahead and knock."

"Dinner?" She hissed, swiveling her chair to face the monitor on the left side of the desk. "There isn't any mention of dinner on his schedule and I certainly didn't call you."

"I don't know what to tell you. I deliver Mr. Todoroki's dinner every Tuesday and Thursday at this time," you sighed, pleasant demeanor slipping as this conversation eroded what little was left of your patience after a long day.

"Well, not today you don't," Yokubou sniffed, waving you away with a dismissive hand. "Shouto is simply too busy this evening. You may go."

"Listen, even if I wanted to go, Über Munch guarantees delivery to Heroes. That's sort of their entire business plan."

"I told you that your services won't be necessary!" Yokubou screeched, reaching her hand towards the receiver on her desk. "Don't make me call security!"

"Would you, actually? They know me down there and it seems like getting a third party involved might help speed things up a bit."

Yokubou's brow twisted as she pulled the desk phone up to her ear, but whatever sort of retort she had poised on the tip of her tongue evaporated the moment Shouto's office door opened and he stuck his head out curiously.

"Shouto!" She crooned, rolling her shoulders back to push her chest further out, the top buttons on her fitted blouse struggling under the added pressure. "I'm so sorry to have disturbed you! But I have everything under control and-"

"There you are," Shouto sighed in relief as his gaze landed on you, pointedly ignoring the antics of his receptionist. "I was starting to get worried."

"Sorry I'm late," you said, holding the bag out for him to take. "This is normally the part where I would apologize for your food getting cold, but it was already cold to start with, so I'm just going to skip that bit."

Shouto accepted his dinner with an amused huff, fingers brushing yours as the bag changed hands.

"Would you like to come in?" Shouto asked, pushing the door to his office open wider. "I need some help on today's crossword puzzle. There's a lot of pop culture questions that I don't know the answers to."

"You can't, Shouto! Not tonight! You're far too busy!" His receptionist said, shooting to a standing position and grabbing the pile of mail into her arms. "There's something important here that needs your immediate attention."

"Is there, now?" Shouto hummed thoughtfully, shifting the bag with his soba into the crook of his arm so he could accept the towering stack of mail.

"And I'm sure you need privacy to open classified mail," Yokubou insisted, squeezing herself into the space between you and Shouto.

"It'll be fine," Shouto assured her with a tight smile. "I'll just save all the top secret letters until I'm alone."

"But-!"

"That will be all for today, Ms. Yokubou," Shouto dismissed, reaching around her to place a palm between your shoulder blades and guide you into his office.

"No! You don't understand!" Yokubou wailed, clawing at the stack of mail Shouto held securely to his chest, trying to pry the missives away from him.

"I understand that it has been a very long day and you must be exhausted. Go home and rest and we'll talk about your lack of professionalism first thing in the morning," Shouto said sternly, shutting the door quickly behind him and engaging the lock with one swift motion. He ignored the pounding knocks that shook the door in its frame and the repeated frantic cries of 'Shouto!' as he made his way across the room, depositing the contents of his arms down onto his desk before collapsing into his office chair with a bone weary sigh.

"Well she sure is…something," you offer diplomatically.

"Fired is what she is," Shouto laughed dryly, scrubbing his hands furiously across his face. "That woman has been an absolute menace since day one. I tried to give her a chance to settle in, but it's beyond obvious that this job isn't a good fit for her."

"She only started on what? Friday?"

"Saturday," Shouto corrected, prying the lid off of his dinner and happily sniffing the ginger-covered noodles. "And since then she's thrown away all my fanmail, canceled a joint interview I had with Creati, and she keeps finding excuses to barge into my office. I've had to start locking my door."

"Yikes," you said, wincing in sympathy and a fair amount of second hand embarrassment. "How long is Mrs. Yamori supposed to be gone?"

"Too long," Shouto groaned, pulling out a set of disposable chopsticks and snapping them neatly in half. "Do you think I could convince her to come back to work early if I hire her baby too?"

"I'm fairly certain that's illegal. Child labor and all that," you laughed, pulling one of the guest chairs up to the front of Shouto's desk and spinning the abandoned crossword around to glance at the clue columns. "Plus, babies cry a lot. It would probably be pretty disruptive."

"It couldn't be worse than my current situation," Shouto grumbled, the faint sounds of Yokubou's wailing still audible in the background.

"I suppose the dental coverage for a baby would be pretty cheap," you muse, penciling in the answer for number thirty-two down. "They don't have any teeth."

"I wonder what's in that mail pile that had Ms. Yokubou so wound up," you pondered, tapping the pencil eraser against your cheek thoughtfully.

"Good question," Shouto said, using the cheap paper napkin to dab primly at his lips even though you were fairly certain he didn't get a single particle of food on his face with how carefully he ate. "I thought she had slipped a confession letter into the stack, but all that's here is official mail and a couple of packages."

"Maybe one of those then?"

"Maybe," Shouto mused, separating out the parcels in question. "But I am expecting some deliveries. My Mother's birthday is coming up and I'm having her gifts shipped here so she doesn't stumble upon them when she visits my apartment."

"I guess the only way to know for sure is to open them," you say, tossing your pencil down in defeat and refocusing your attention onto Shouto as he picked up an envelope mailer and ripped open the tab. Reaching into the envelope, Shouto pulled out a small paperback novel.

"It's the next volume in her favorite book series," he explained, setting the book aside with a smile. "I pulled some strings and got her an advanced copy."

"The ladies in her book club are going to be so jealous!"

"I know," Shouto grinned fiendishly in delight, the mischievous glint in his eye making your stomach muscles clench wickedly.

"And uh, what's in the last box?" You ask, trying to focus on anything other than your misplaced desire for the man in front of you.

"Let's see, shall we?" Shouto said, slicing open the packing tape with a large set of shears from his desk drawer. Carefully reaching in through the layers of tissue paper, Shouto pulls out a long glass bottle. It's overly ornate, with pink tinted glass and gilded edges, the sort of thing your grandmother would have proudly displayed on her vanity while smacking your small hand away for trying to touch it without permission.

"It's lovely," you say, only half-lying as you watched the golden tassel tied around the middle sway back and forth. "What's it for?"

"Perfume, I think?" Shouto guessed, face scrunched up as he examined the bottle closely. "I ordered the type Fuyumi told me to, but I don't remember it looking like this on the webpage?"

"Maybe it's a limited edition?" You suggest. "Or they noticed who was ordering and upgraded you to the deluxe version with like, extra ambergris or something?"

"I hope not. That would throw the fragrance completely off balance," Shouto winced, viscerally imagining the perfume you described. "Better check and make sure this isn't the deluxe edition."

And with those words, Shouto grasped the stopper on the bottle and pulled; a plume of thick yellow smoke billowing out from the mouth of the bottle. Gasping in surprise, you accidentally inhaled the spreading vapor; skin prickling painfully as you lost control of your limbs and tumbled to the floor. The last thing you saw before your vision blurred and unconsciousness claimed you was Shouto reaching out across the floor towards your prone body; shirt pulled over his nose and mouth in an effort to filter out the unknown gas.

Untold minutes passed before the smoke finally dissipated. And when it did, there was no trace of you or Shouto left. Just a shiny pink bottle with it's stopper wedged firmly in place, glimmering cheerily in the warm light of Shouto's office.

You woke up suddenly, contorted into an uncomfortable position on the floor with your clothes clinging to your clammy skin. Head pounding and stomach churning, you take in a deep breath and then promptly regret it as you inhale a lung-full of incredibly potent incense smoke.

"Ugh," you coughed, nose twitching as you got hit by another low-hanging cloud of patchouli. With one last sputter you shifted your focus to examine the room around you. The walls were an eye watering bright pink and every horizontal surface, from the tables to the numerous book shelves mounted to the walls, were stuffed full of flickering candles and arrangements of waxy-petaled lilies.

"Are you okay?" Shouto asked, voice calling out from behind the other side of the circular bed frame you were laying next to.

"I dunno'," you mumble, pausing to let out a tiny belch that seemed to help settle your stomach. "I think so?"

"Good," Shouto stated, voice still commanding despite its breathy quality. "Can you walk?"

"Let me try," you said as you went to roll over onto your side, only to discover that your body wasn't responding the way it should; your limbs dragging and heavy. Panic flooded your body, blood thrumming hotly in your ears as you once again tried, and failed, to roll. Exerting more concentrated effort than you ever had before in your life, you managed to slowly rock over onto your shoulder; body now facing towards the bed.

Whatever gratification you felt from your accomplishment was quickly forgotten as you realized that your heaving gasps of exhaustion were slowly pushing you off balance, sending you toppling face first into the shiny wooden bedframe. Your forehead landed with a dull thunk; the shock of the impact intensified by the headache throbbing sharply behind your eyes.

"Ouch," you hissed through your teeth, sucking up the pain as best you could. "Moving appears to be beyond me at the moment."

"That's okay," Shouto said, his voice dropping a decibel or two into a more comforting timbre. "Wait there. I'll come to you."

The one good thing about your fall was that it positioned your head closer to the foot of the bed, so you could watch as Shouto grasped handfuls of the carpet in his fists, pulling himself slowly into view with great heaving breaths. His strength finally gave out an arms length away from you, his fingers creeping along the floor until they collided with yours.

Tears prickled in the corners of your eyes, the embarrassing result of too many big feelings fighting against each other to be felt first- sadness and frustration and fear and utter relief when Shouto's fingers curled around your own.

"You don't need to cry," Shouto soothed, his thumb rubbing small circles into the back of your hand.

"I don't think I can stop," you sobbed, sucking in huge lungfuls of the incense-spiked air.

"That's okay, too."

"Yeah?"

"Mmhmm," Shouto hummed. "I'm told that crying can be very therapeutic. Do you feel any better?"

"No," you snorted, trying to downplay the telltale blubber of mucus collecting in the back of your throat.

"Do you need to cry some more then?"

You nodded as emphatically as you could with the feeble muscles in your neck, and then opened your mouth and let out a piercing wail; tears streaming down your face and soaking quickly into the plush carpet fibers.

"Can you use your Quirk?" You sniffed, tears dried and tacky on your skin. You'd tried to wipe them away but only managed to poke yourself in the eye instead. "Because mine isn't working."

"No," Shouto growled in frustration, eyes narrowed at his hands as though they had personally betrayed him. "I'm hoping we'll regain control of them once our bodies recover."

"If we recover," you mutter dismally, shifting your gaze reluctantly towards Shouto when you felt him squeeze your hand tightly to gain your attention.

"It's true we don't know what might happen to us," Shouto admitted, his mismatched eyes locked onto yours; intense and mesmerizing. "But we'll face it together, okay?"

"Okay," you swallowed thickly. "But I think you definitely pulled the short straw as far as teammates go."

"Really?" Shouto asked, his eyes shining as he stared at you. "I don't think I could have chosen anyone better if I tried."

At Shouto's insistence, you began doing little exercises in an attempt to kick start your muscles back into working order. You started small, with toe curls and rotating your arms in little circles. Everything was slightly numb and hard to control, a little like how your cheeks felt after you had a cavity filled at the dentist.

"I'm scared, Shouto," you whispered as you lifted your forearm a paltry couple inches off of the floor. Shouto had already graduated to doing floppy bicep curls, but that was the difference in athletic ability between a Pro Hero and someone who's preferred marathon experience involved popcorn and a handful of movies. "Where do you think we are?"

"I don't know," he grunted from exertion, sweat beading at his temples. "But I have a couple of theories about how we got here."

"What're you thinking?"

"It's obviously some sort of Quirk at work," he gasped. "You're a Teleporter, right? Could it be something like that, do you think?"

"No. It's not teleportation," you groaned, arms collapsing limply onto the floor as you burned through the last of your energy. "I'm in an online chat group with a bunch of other Teleporters and we all have the same basic experience. And this is not it."

"Really?" Shouto said, pausing in his exercises to join your brief respite. "That's fascinating."

"Yeah. I guess rearranging all your atoms is a complex enough process there's just one way it works correctly."

Shouto huffed, staring up at your reflections in the large mirror that covered the entire ceiling. "What's it like? Teleporting, I mean?"

"I- it's sort of hard to explain," you say, wrinkling up your nose in thought. "So, like, imagine if people were made entirely out of sand."

"That sounds awful," Shouto grimaced. "Can you imagine what it would feel like if your tongue was made out of sand? Everything would taste gritty."

"It isn't literal," you huff. "You can imagine anything small. Rocks, sugar-"

"Rice," Shouto interrupted, nodding resolutely.

"Yeah, sure. Rice. Imagine people are made out of rice. Teleporting is like, if every single one of those grains just scattered," you try to wave your hand around for emphasis but only succeed in making it flop on the ground like a dying fish. "But they aren't lost. I know where every single last one is, no matter how far away it wandered. And I can just pull them all back together again, wherever I choose."

"And it doesn't make you feel like all your muscles have atrophied?"

"No, not at all," you say, letting your head loll from side to side in an exaggerated shake. "I'm just- letting myself fall apart. I'm like ice when it starts to melt; shifting and warm."

"Oh," Shouto said, a sudden ring of clarity in his tone. "That's a nice feeling."

"Yeah, it is."

Eventually, you and Shouto progressed to being able to move around on the carpet. Shouto had worked himself up into a crawling position while you had adopted the much less elegant solution of wiggling around like a worm. You could tell by his puffed up cheeks and pointedly averted stare that he was barely holding back laughing at your expense.

"Don't you dare laugh at me," you warned him, butt stuck up in the air as you wiggled your shoulders from side to side to achieve forward momentum.

"I'm- I'm not," Shouto lied, wheezing with every inch he crawled towards a distant dresser.

"Please," you scoffed. "I went to middle school. I know what it looks like to be laughed at. You could at least have the decency to do it to my face."

"Right, sorry," Shouto apologized, turning his head to look at you and promptly losing all composure; crashing to the ground as his laughter wracked his body and threw him off balance. He landed hard on his shoulder, still too uncoordinated to break his fall well.

"Ow!" He snorted out between guffaws, body shaking as he rubbed at his shoulder with limp fingers. "That- that hurt."

"Serves you right," you mutter peevishly, pushing your derriere further into the air to power your next creep forward. "I'm going to beat you to the dresser. That'll teach you to laugh at me."

"No," Shouto gasped, stumbling back onto his hands and feet. "I'm gonna- gonna get there first."

"Oh yeah?" You countered, summoning up your go-to school yard taunt like the paragon of maturity you were.

"Yeah," he shot back, the call of competition doing a lot to sober his demeanor as he rocked on his hands and took a shaky shuffle forward.

"Hey, Shouto!" You called, waiting until he was looking at you before you wiggled your butt from side-to-side as much as you could without toppling over. Shouto, not anticipating your underhanded maneuver, collapsed face first into the shag rug, the long fibers muffling his delirious cackling.

"Cheater!" He cried out.

"Winner!" You laughed, sliding forward onto your belly and making a good headway towards the dresser, steadfastly ignoring Shouto's calls for a do-over.

Shouto had predictably rallied and beaten you to the dresser like the finely tuned muscle machine he was, but you were proud to say you had given him a run for his money. The two of you now sat propped up against the dresser, bodies slumped against each other for an additional layer of support. You'd passed a fair bit of time by guessing how many flowers were crammed into each vase and then counting to see who came the closest.

"Aaaaaand that's another round to me!" You proclaimed, nudging Shouto sharply. with your elbow when you heard him grumble discontentedly.

Todoroki Shouto, it turned out, was a very sore loser.

"One more time," he pouted, looking around the room for another cluster of lilies to tabulate. "Best fourteen out of twenty-seven."

"Yeah, I can agree to that. Because I've already won fourteen times," you reminded him smugly.

"This game is silly," Shouto grumbled, managing to cross his arms across his chest petulantly on the second try. "I don't want to play anymore."

"Fine by me," you yawned, only slapping yourself in the face a little as you tried to cover your mouth. "I'm getting tired anyway."

"Go ahead and sleep," Shouto said, nudging your shoulder with his own until your head slid down into the cradle of his neck. It was wildly uncomfortable and far too intimate for your level of acquaintance, but you'd sooner eat your shirt than complain about it. "I'll take first watch."

"Watch for what?" You grumble, already well on your way to being unconscious. "There aren't even any doors."

"Or windows," Shouto added with a frustrated sigh as he dropped his head down onto yours, smushing your cheek into the hard edge of his clavicle.

"Righ'," you mumble as your eyelids droop shut. "No win'ows."

"And I suppose if anyone was going to come in and kill us, they would have done that while we were lying defenseless on the floor."

Your eyes shoot open, all traces of exhaustion banished as you pry yourself away from Shouto and scramble into a more upright position.

"What's wrong?" He asked with genuine concern. "I thought you were tired?"

"I was, until someone started talking about us being killed," you laughed dryly, eyes darting around the room suspiciously, cataloging all the places a person could be laying in wait. There weren't a lot, but the privacy screen next to the chaise lounge was looking a little too sinister for your liking.

"No, I specifically said that we likely wouldn't be murdered."

"Yeah, but you still mentioned the killing part! And now I can't stop thinking about it!" You babbled anxiously, trying to calm your rabbit-fast heartbeat with a couple of deep breaths. "This is probably the closest I've ever been to being murdered before, so a little bit of panic feels justified!"

"There is a strong correlation between kidnapping and murder," Shouto nodded.

"Do you- do you think that's comforting?" You screech, hysteria ratcheting up another few notches.

"I- no?" Shouto said, voice pitching high in uncertainty. "But it is statistically significant!"

With a pitiful whine, you drop your head down into your mostly stable hands, doing your best to hold back another round of water works. Shouto, at a loss about what to say, drops his hand onto your back.

"There, there," he says, rubbing his palm slowly down your spine

"Now this- this is comforting," you sigh, arching your spine against his trailing hand.

"I'm glad," Shouto smiled. "This is how I pet stray cats, too. It's good to finally get some feedback on my technique."

"Now that we're back on our feet-," Shouto began, watching anxiously as you stumbled and were forced to grab onto a floor lamp for support. "-mostly, anyway. I think it would be a good idea for us to look around the room more thoroughly."

"Sounds good," you say, glancing at the lamp cord and wondering how far you explore while keeping your makeshift crutch plugged in. "Is there anything in particular we're looking for?"

"I'm not sure," Shouto said, setting his sights on the dresser drawers. "We know so little about our current situation that any information at all would be helpful."

"Right," you said, still unsure about what exactly to do, but not wanting to hinder Shouto's progress any further. You decided to inspect behind the privacy screen that had made you uneasy earlier. It was a tall thing that stretched far over your head, white wicker edges nearly scraping the mirrored ceiling.

"Finding anything interesting," you panted over your shoulder as you took another baby step towards the screen, dragging your support lamp along with you.

"No!" Shouto yelped, slamming the top drawer he'd been staring into shut. "I mean, yes. There are things. But they aren't important. They're uh-," he paused to cough uneasily into a loose fist. "They're- intimacy supplies."

"Ah, sex toys," you nod, turning back to face your destination and give Shouto what little privacy you could to work through his embarrassment. "Say no more."

"I- yes. Thank you."

"But that opens up an entirely new realm of possible explanations," you grunt, tired but excited by your continued progress across the room. "Like, did we get knocked out by the gas from that bottle and dropped into a love hotel or something? As a joke?"

"A love hotel?" Shouto screeched.

"Yeah. They're normally all schmaltzy and themed like this," you explain, gesturing vaguely to the abundance of bright pink decor. "Normally that theme isn't Barbie Escape Room, but I'm not here to kink shame."

"I think you maybe should have taken on the dresser inspection. I'm completely out of my element here," Shouto lamented, holding up a large paddle for you to see. "I can't even begin to imagine why there's a cutting board in here."

"Oh, that's not-"

"Actually," Shouto interrupted, holding up a hand to halt your explanation. "I don't think I want to know."

Shouto continues to rifle through the drawers, utterly befuddled and horrified in equal turns when you finally reach your destination.

"Alright," you said, mustering up the courage to peer behind the screen. "Let's see what's going on behind here."

You push the right side of the screen back slowly with your still weak arms, panels buckling at the hinges as it folded itself up like an accordion.

"Any murderers tucked away back there," Shouto teases, weighing a comically large steel buttplug in his hand.

"Not a murderer, no," your voice trembling with mounting horror as you step out of the way, allowing Shouto to see around you for the first time. The wall behind the screen was full of pictures of Shouto, hundreds of them pieced together into a collage of obsession. Magazine covers, promo pictures, and selfies from Shouto's official social media accounts were all present in the mashup; but far more distressing were the inclusions of what had to be candid shots of the Hero.

Blurry and over processed snapshots of Shouto shirtless that had been taken through his apartment window, spoon hanging from his mouth as he ate a cup of yogurt.

A far away street shot with him and a friend- you couldn't tell who it was exactly because they had been scribbled over with a pen so many times they had worn a hole in the paper; the bright pink of the walls visible through the missing space where a person should be.

Classified photographs detailing the injuries sustained in the line of duty that had been copied from official Commission files; terrible, gruesome things of Shouto bruised and bloodied and at his most vulnerable.

"You have a stalker, Shouto," you whispered.

"Oh," Shouto said numbly, the butt plug falling from between his fingers and hitting the top of the dresser with a loud thud. "Then this isn't a love hotel then," he paused and swallowed thickly, eyes glazed with an emotion you couldn't recognize as he stared at the wall behind you. "This is supposed to be my prison."

Things had only gotten worse from there. Now that you realized the purpose of the room, you were unable to unearth all sorts of hidden features that made your skin crawl. Hooks carved into the delicate filigree on the bed frame that were obviously made for handcuffs, a box of truffles with tiny syringe marks poked into the bottom, and a set of menacingly sharp sewing scissors tucked away in the bedside table drawer.

Your stomach was churning painfully, but you couldn't tell if it was from hunger or fear.

Not really knowing what else to do, you fumbled over towards the bed and collapsed onto it, nearly sliding off the slick satin duvet cover. A frantic scramble had kept you from dropping onto the floor, but it was a near thing. You watched as Shouto slid down onto the ground, a blank look on his face as he positioned his hands by his ears and began doing crunches.

"Are you- are you okay?" You ask from your sprawled out position on the bed. You'd tried to make eye contact with him through the mirror ceiling, but his gaze remained stubbornly averted to a blank spot on the wall you couldn't understand his interest in.

"I'm fine," he grunted through clenched teeth, forcing his shoulders up off the floor.

"You don't have to be."

"Yes I do!" Shouto bellowed, startling you as he threw himself down onto the floor, hands fisting in his hair in frustration. "You're trapped in here because of me! It's my responsibility to get you out safely and I can't do it if I'm like this!" He said, waving a hand down at his sluggish body.

"None of this is your fault," you assure Shouto, sliding to the edge of the bed and peering down towards him. "You're just as much a victim here as I am."

"You shouldn't even be a victim in the first place."

"Yeah, me being here obviously wasn't what your stalker had planned," you said, suppressing a shudder as you stared briefly at the collage of photos before reaching down and taking Shouto's hand into your own. "But I'm glad. I'm glad that it's me here with you, instead of- instead of them."

"I'm glad it's you, too," Shouto whispered, squeezing your hand tightly. "And not just because you don't have any plans to torture me."

"Being trapped in a room with me is torture enough," you joke, lazily swinging your interlocked hands back and forth in the air. "There's no need to overdo it."

There are faint memories of some long ago humanities class echoing in the back of your brain; something about needing to have your basic needs met before you're able to consider any other, arguably more important, matters. So while you understood that you were likely waist-deep in mortal peril and should be very worried about your long term health and wellbeing, you were far more concerned about the fact that you really had to pee.

Like, right now.

"Hey, Shouto?" You clear your throat nervously, not entirely sure how to broach the subject of bodily fluids with the top-ranked Hero laying on the bed next to you. "I, uh- have something I need to say. But it's sort of embarrassing?"

"Oh?" Shouto asked curiously, turning his head to face you, your noses nearly brushing. "What is it?"

"Well, I just- I know that a lot is happening right now, and I don't want to burden you anymore than I already am, but I just don't think I can hold it in any longer."

"Tell me," Shouto whispered breathlessly, his eyes wide as he watched you nibble on your lower lip nervously.

"I-"

"Yes?" He said imploringly, face inching closer to yours.

"I really need to pee!" You cry out loudly, sending Shouto reeling back from the force of your sudden screech.

"Oh- uh," he stammers. "That's, hmm."

"God," you whine, covering your face with your hands. "This is so embarrassing!"

"There's no need to be embarrassed," Shouto rushed to assure you, grasping your wrists gently to pull them away from your face. "I'm sorry, I should have reacted better."

"It's fine," you mutter sheepishly as you peer up at him from under your lashes. "It's gross and uncomfortable and I shouldn't have just blurted it out like that."

"No, it's not that- I was just caught a bit off guard. I thought you were going to say something different," Shouto admits with a wistful sigh.

"Like what? That I need to poop?"

"No," he snorts, pushing himself to the edge of the bed and standing with relative ease. "Don't worry about it right now. Let's just focus on finding a place for you to relieve yourself."

"I'd suggest just picking a corner like animals do, but that doesn't seem like a viable option in a round room."

"We'll just have to get creative then, won't we?" Shouto smiled, lifting up one of the largest vases of lilies and flipping it upside down; water and flowers spilling onto the floor at his feet in a soggy clump.

Shouto had originally set up your makeshift chamber pot behind the creepy stalker screen to give you some semblance of privacy, which was incredibly thoughtful of him. But the idea of peeing in front of one Shouto was hard enough, there was no way you could ever possibly bring yourself to pee in front of hundreds of little Shoutos pasted onto the wall. So the two of you combined your minimal strength together and managed to pull one side of the tall dresser away from the wall, creating a triangular little hidey-hole you hurriedly wedged yourself into.

"Don't look!" You called out over your shoulder, already pulling your zipper down before he could spin around fully.

"I won't," Shouto promised, staring dutifully across the room. With nothing more engaging to stare at, you join him in spectating the wall you were squeezed against. The pink paint had some sort of iridescent sparkles mixed into it that caught every flickering candle flame and created a hazy sort of glow that did nothing to help alleviate the headache you'd been nursing since you first woke up. The effect wasn't any less assaulting up close, so you were in the process of averting your eyes when the light behind you suddenly shifted; Shouto's dark shadow passing over you and catching on some strange divots on the otherwise smooth surface of the wall.

Hesitantly, you raise your hand and run your fingers across the wall, watching the route your fingertips take as they follow the nearly invisible grooves.

"Letters!" You gasp in excitement. "Shouto! There are letters on the wall!"

"Where?" Shouto demands, appearing over your shoulder in a flash, heedless of the fact that you were still mid-piss.

"Ahhh! No peeking! NO PEEKING!"

"Sorry! I'm so sorry!"

After you had emerged from your commode and dunked your hands into a bowl full of lily water to cleanse them, you and Shouto set about moving the dresser further from the wall to accommodate both your bodies as you squinted thoughtfully at the letters.

"They're really hard to make out through the shimmery paint," you grumble, waving a candle around to see if a different light position would make it any easier to read.

It didn't.

"I think that's the point," Shouto hummed thoughtfully. "They used paint and a dresser to hide the message, so they really didn't want us to discover what's written here."

You both stared at the shimmery wall for a moment longer before inspiration suddenly struck.

"I have an idea," you said, wobbling away to the other side of the room on stiff legs and returning moments later, the box of drugged chocolates tucked underneath your arm.

"Take one," you instructed Shouto as you pulled the lid off the box; selecting a dark chocolate truffle for yourself.

"I know things seem bad, but poisoning ourselves isn't the answer. Yet," Shouto added grimly, staring down into the box with a deep frown.

"I'm not gonna- ugh! Just watch!" You huff, placing your truffle onto the wall and smearing it over the letters with firm strokes. The chocolate transferred easily onto the wall, leaving brown streaks across the pink paint but skipping over the recessed grooves of the letters.

"Clever," Shouto smirked proudly, a sight that you stared at for longer than was strictly appropriate; permanently etching every last detail of this moment into your memory.

Chocolates in hand, you and Shouto began scribbling across the wall like two poorly supervised toddlers, the message slowly coming into focus as the number of truffles in the box quickly dwindled. The message was much larger than you had originally anticipated and you were a bit worried that you were going to run out of chocolates before the message was fully revealed. But in the end you were left with half a truffle and a bit of doggerel poetry outlined in cocoa:

A love confession you must tell,

If you wish to break the bottle's spell.

Sweet nothings alone just will not do,

You're trapped until your words are true.

"Well, I don't know what I was expecting but it certainly wasn't rhyming couplets," you admit, rubbing your sticky hands onto a nearby tufted throw pillow.

"The bottle," Shouto stated confidently, following your lead and wiping his hands on a decorative curtain. "The one I opened in my office earlier. The poem leads me to believe that we're inside of it."

"I- I suppose that makes sense," you admit, thinking back on the bottle you'd briefly seen. "You opening that bottle is the last thing I remember before waking up here."

"Removing the stopper must have been the trigger for the Quirk that trapped us to activate."

"That's why Ms. Yokubou was so insistent about getting into your office! She knew about the bottle!" You gasped, spinning to face Shouto. He didn't look too surprised by the revelation.

"She knew what the bottle did and likely intended to be here in your place," he nodded somberly. "Ms. Yokubou is definitely the most likely suspect."

"Really?" You scoff incredulously. "'The most likely suspect?' It's blatantly obvious that she's the one behind all of this."

"I took an oath to uphold the presumption of innocence. Ms. Yokubou isn't guilty unless she's proven so in a court of law," Shouto insisted with a sour look on his face, his morals at war with what he knew was true.

"Well, I didn't take an oath," you informed him proudly, puffing out your chest and resting your hands on your hips. "So I'm free to say that she's a creepy, rotten, low-down, guilty, bitch."

"Yes, you certainly can say that," Shouto grinned brilliantly. You tried to return a smile with similar intensity, but considering how rough you looked in the ceiling mirror after a full day of work and captivity you're positive it's no match for Shouto's natural radiance. But from the small sparkle you saw appear in the corner of his eye, it seemed that Shouto appreciated your efforts just the same.

"Are your hands starting to tingle?" You ask worriedly, staring down at the sharply prickling skin on your fingers.

"We need to wash the remaining chocolate off. Now," Shouto ordered, shoving the vase you had rinsed your hands off earlier into your lap; dunking his hands into the water after yours.

"I wonder what was in those truffles," you mutter in concern as Shouto's fingers worked defly over your skin, doing his best to scrub the chocolate residue off with firm strokes. You tried to return the favor, poking at the back of his hand with your clumsy digits, but it was growing increasingly difficult to will your fingers to bend.

"Likely just a tranquilizer," Shouto assured you, pulling one of your hands out of the water to check on how clean it was before lowering it back into the vase with a frown. "Whoever put me in here-"

"Ms. Yokubou," you filled in.

"-seems to have wanted me docile, not dead."

You tried to focus on the muted feeling of Shouto's hand on yours instead of the red hot anger roiling in your belly. It was a testament to the strength of your ire that you barely registered Shouto's gentle caresses.

Shouto had taken it upon himself to push the dresser out of the way so you could more clearly see the poem on the wall from a more comfortable position on the bed. The dresser had tipped in the process, drawers falling open and spilling their contents out across the ground; shiny new dental tools and lacy-edged corsets mixing together in a heap on the carpet. You had thought it had been an accident at first, Shouto simply underestimating his returning strength, but then you had seen the malicious glee spread thickly across his face and understood it had been a calculated act of wanton destruction. He dropped down onto the bed beside you, glaring at the mess he had made on the floor.

"Oops," he said unapologetically, kicking the pile of lingerie with a sneer. In a show of solidarity, you swept your arm across one of the bedside tables, sending an oil diffuser and a copy of the Kama Sutra crashing to the floor.

"Oh nooo," you said flatly, swiping at a teetering wine glass that escaped your first attack. "Clumsy me!"

Shouto's smile was a forced thing, too-fast and insincere compared to his normal grins. You watched as his shoulders slumped, head hanging down towards his chest as he ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

"I hate it here," he admits after a long moment of quiet. "I can't stop thinking about what could- what would have been happening to me. And I- I just-"

His foot jostled one of the hooked dental probes laying on the carpet, both your and Shouto's eyes locked onto it as it skittered across the floor and hit the baseboard with a tinny clang.

"We need to get out of here," you swallow thickly, hand blindly reaching out for Shouto's across the bed. He squeezed your fingers too tightly, your joints aching in protest; but you didn't tell him to stop.

"So, if we're interpreting this poem correctly then Ms. Yokubou-"

"The unconfirmed suspect," Shouto corrected.

"-the suspect intended keep you trapped in here and torture you until you were convinced you loved them."

"That seems to be the case, yes."

"That's so fucking awful, Shouto."

He didn't respond, staring thoughtfully at the words on the wall with a furrowed brow instead.

"Ms. Yoku- I mean, whoever did this obviously has some sort of feelings for you, but not really? They want you, but not the actual you," you ranted, the bubble of rage you had kept pushed down inside had finally built up enough pressure that it was spilling out against your will as you stomped around the room. You took a special sort of pleasure in grinding the discarded lilies down into mush with every lap you took.

"They don't care about what you think or- or feel, they just care that they get what they want, even if it destroys you. I just- I don't understand? How can they believe that they love you when they're so willing to hurt you?" you whispered brokenly, furious and devastated on Shouto's behalf.

"And I know that is an emotionally charged situation for you, but could you please say something?" You beg, sagging down onto the bed beside him, exhausted from your outburst. "If you don't, I'm pretty sure I'm just going to keep talking until I drive us both crazy. Which, admittedly, doesn't seem like it would be a very long trip at this point-"

"It can't be that simple," Shouto suddenly blurts out, putting an end to your rambling.

"What's not simple? Driving you crazy? Because I have some high school teachers with stories you wouldn't believe."

"No, not that," Shouto said, waving a hand dismissively. "I'm talking about the poem."

"What about it?" you asked, squinting at the rhyme inquisitively.

"It says that only a true love confession will break the bottle's spell and, presumably, set us free."

"Yeah, and that's sort of a huge issue? A forced love confession is just coercion," you explain. "You can't create genuine affection like that."

"Exactly," Shouto agreed, "And that would be a problem if the kidnapper was the one stuck in here with me. But instead, by some incredible stroke of luck or karma or kismet; I'm in here with you."

Between your persistent headache, bone-deep exhaustion, and the thick fog of panic blanketing your mind there was no possible way that you were interpreting Shouto's words correctly.

"What do you mean?" you said, swallowing thickly as you braced your heart for the let down you knew was coming; the walking back of his words, the incredulous laughter once he realized what he was mistakenly insinuating.

"I had a plan for this," Shouto sighed, a melancholy sort of sound. "There was supposed to be dinner. And music. And flowers. Not lilies, though," he rushed to assure you.

"Thank goodness. I don't think I ever want to see another lily again for as long as I live."

"Same here," he laughed dryly. "But we would have had a good evening together. Better than this one, at least. And at the end of the night I would take your hand in mine, just like this," Shouto said, cradling your hand between both of his. "And I'd finally tell you what I've been too scared to tell you for weeks now."

"Which is what?" you whisper breathlessly, precariously hanging on his every word by your fingertips; moments away from slipping and plummeting down into something- some feeling that couldn't possibly be real. You weren't that lucky. You weren't that anything, really.

"I'd tell you the truth," Shouto promised, his eyes shining with a soft sincerity that made your chest ache with longing. "That I am totally, irrevocably, head-over-heels in love with you."

You opened your mouth to respond- how exactly, you weren't entirely sure. Cheer, maybe? Cry? Ask him if he was serious? But the actual sound that came out was a prolonged scream as every muscle in your body twisted and burned.

And then, all you saw was darkness.

You woke up suddenly, contorted into an uncomfortable position on the floor again. But there was one immediately noticeable difference between waking up in the bottle and now, and that was the fact that your limbs were hopelessly tangled up with Shouto's; the two of you twisted together like a fleshy pretzel.

"We have to stop meeting like this," Shouto smiles down at where your head is pillowed on his chest, his heart thumping quickly beneath your ear.

"Nope, not allowed," you mumble in complaint, trying to push yourself off of his chest. You weren't able to make much protest with how loudly your muscles were protesting, so you just settled back down and tried to ignore how your heart skipped a beat when you felt his arm squeeze you tightly into his side. "I'm the funny one here. You're not allowed to have better one-liners than me."

"Apologies," Shouto said, your body rocking gently along with the quiet laughter that shook his chest. "I did have a bit of time to think of it though. It's taken you a little while to come around."

"You didn't move me?"

"No? Why would I?" Shouto asked, tilting his head to the side easily; obviously less inhibited by the soreness of his muscles than you were.

"Well, we're out of the bottle now so I thought…" you trailed off uneasily, unsure of what words you could put together to push this conversation along. It wasn't like you really wanted to talk about what happened; to pop the bubble of happiness that was filled to almost bursting inside of your chest. But you knew that the longer you drew it out the harder it would be to face reality; to acknowledge that Shouto discovered a loophole, a convenient lie he could believe just enough to free you both from that bottle.

Maybe he just loved you like a friend? Or worse, like a sister? Maybe that kind of affection was enough to have met the nebulous requirements for the Quirk to deactivate? The poem didn't have any footnotes that you could see, so maybe it wasn't quite as strict as you and Shouto had theorized. Maybe you could have gotten away with professing your love of Rock and Roll or sleeping in on the weekend?

You wish you would have experimented a bit more inside of the bottle and maybe saved yourself the devastating experience you were currently thrust into: staring literal heartbreak in the face as you gazed helplessly up at Todoroki Shouto.

"Thought what?" Shouto asked, the edges of his sweet grin slowly dipping down into the start of a frown.

"Well, we're out of the bottle now. So I don't expect- I won't hold you to anything you said. I know it was to just get us out. So, uh- thank you for that. But you don't have to keep pretending. It's okay," you assure him with a watery smile. You'd never been particularly skilled at lying and were even worse at it when you were emotional, and right now you were feeling very emotional.

But instead of looking relieved like you had expected him to be, Shouto looked positively exasperated; his face creased into a deep scowl.

"You don't believe that I have feelings for you?"

"Well, I mean, not like you said- not romantically," you explain, panicking internally as his expression grew even more displeased. "Just- like a friend?"

"I see," Shouto huffed. You could practically feel yourself withering under the intensity of his disappointed stare. "Is that how you see me? As just a friend?"

"I mean, we are friends, right?" You laugh nervously, growing increasingly concerned that this conversation might just torpedo your entire relationship into smithereens.

"Yes, of course. Very good ones I think," Shouto said, his hand coming up to cradle the side of your jaw gently to keep your attention firmly on him. "But is that all we are?"

"I wasn't aware there was any other option," you whisper honestly, your gaze jumping between each of his eyes, trying to see if one color was less intimidating than the other. But both gray and green burned with a deep intensity you couldn't fully comprehend.

"Really?" Shouto deadpanned. "I've been inviting you to stay with me in my office alone, after hours, for months now, and you didn't take that as a hint that I was interested in you?"

"I just thought you wanted some company while you ate," you admit quietly, still staring at Shouto much like a deer caught in a set of headlights. "And that you were like, really bad at crossword puzzles."

Shouto groaned miserably, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back onto the floor with a loud thunk.

"I didn't want just anyone's company," he sighed. "I wanted yours, specifically."

"Oh," you replied, stunned. "Then why didn't you, you know? Ask me out? Let me know that you were interested?"

"I thought about taking a more direct approach," Shouto says, staring up at the ceiling despondently. "But my friends told me it was inappropriate to ask someone out while they're working."

"That's true," you conceded. "So what was your plan then, exactly?"

"I was trying to make you relaxed enough in my presence where you would feel comfortable asking me out,"

Shouto said, shifting uncomfortably at your incredulous expression.

"You could have waited one thousand years and I still wouldn't have been able to muster up enough courage to ask you out," you laugh dryly. "But even if your plan had worked, I still signed an employee code of conduct when I started working at Über Munch. I'm not allowed to flirt with customers."

Shouto hummed thoughtfully, tightening his arm around you once more. "I guess maybe it's a good thing we got stuck in that bottle together then, huh?"

"Too soon," you chastised him immediately, eyes wide as you shook your head quickly from side-to-side.

"Right. Of course. Sorry."

Once you were able to move without crying in pain, you and Shouto had reluctantly pried your bodies apart and started acting like responsible adults. Shouto did his official Hero thing and reported your bungled kidnapping attempt to the police while you called in to work.

You'd ended up needing to use one of the Personal Victim Leave days you'd been accruing, which was fine. This was the exact sort of scenario you were supposed to use them for, but you still felt a little bitter because you had been hoping to cash all of them out at the end of the year to pay for holiday gifts for your family.

The next few hours were a blur of commotion as you were interrogated by so many detectives you were pretty sure they had to be bussing them in from the surrounding precincts just to have the opportunity to interview Shouto. But the attempted kidnapping of a high-profile hero was likely a large enough case to elevate someone's career into the big leagues, so you couldn't fault them for their efforts; as self serving as they likely were.

Eventually, you and Shouto had been escorted out of his office so they could start photographing the crime scene; officers delivering you down to a line of ambulances waiting to take you to the hospital for an After Quirk Exposure check-up. All you really wanted to do was go home and sleep for a week, but everyone had a story about some second cousin's friend who skipped the routine examinations and ended up turning inside out or something hours later.

Most of those stories were probably urban legends or some sort of Hero Commission propaganda, but either way they made you just wary enough to agree to climb onto the gurney and accept a juice box and pack of cookies from the paramedic without raising a fuss.

You and Shouto were separated at the hospital, the attending physicians swiveling your gurneys off into separate wings. Shouto was whisked away to the private Hero section of the hospital while you were shuffled into the ER with the rest of the civilians, shoved into a curtained off nook and left to your own devices with a small cup of ice water and a dwindling phone battery.

It was a testament to your exhaustion that you were able to fall asleep even with the cacophony of sounds from the ER filtering in behind your privacy curtain, waking only when the nurses arrived to wheel you around the hospital for one screening or another.

You were on your way back from your third exam, some sort of organ scanning thing you had never bothered to learn the name of, when you noticed that the nurse had pushed you past the corridor that led back to your shrouded nook in the emergency department and towards the elevators.

"Am I going for another test?" You asked in confusion, watching as she swiped her key card across a scanner mounted next to the elevator control panel, selecting one of the numerous unmarked buttons after the scanner accepted her ID with a high-pitched beep.

"No, you're all done for now. We're just waiting for final results to come in," the nurse explained, pushing you out of the elevator doors the moment they opened far enough. "It's been requested that you be moved into a room for security reasons."

"I don't understand. Am I in danger-," your query was cut off as you were pushed into your new hospital room where Shouto was awaiting your arrival, neatly tucked into his own hospital bed. You could tell from the overcrowded cluster of monitoring equipment that they had shoved his bed closer to the far wall to make room for your gurney to be positioned next to his.

"Ah, there you are," Shouto smiled in relief as the nurse engaged the locks on your bed wheels. "Thank you so much for your assistance, Nurse Yamamoto."

The nurse blushed tomato red under Shouto's direct attention, doing her best to hide her burning cheeks behind her clipboard.

"It- ah, it was nothing. Just um, ring the buzzer if you need anything and I'll be back to check on you in an hour?" She stammered nervously, the end of her sentence pitching up into a questioning tone.

"That sounds perfect. Thank you again," Shouto beamed, flashing his teeth in a wide grin that stunned the poor dear so severely she attempted to exit the room by pushing on a door that had to be pulled to open. You grimaced internally in sympathy for her, knowing full well that she would replay that fumbled exit over in her mind every night before she fell asleep.

Once the nurse was safely down the hallway, the squeak of her rubber soled shoes far enough away that you knew she wouldn't overhear, you spun to Shouto with a disbelieving look carved deeply into your face.

"Did you just charm a nurse into letting us be roomies?"

"Please. I didn't just charm a nurse," Shouto scoffed, crossing his arms defensively across his chest. "I also lied a little."

"I can't believe you're this big of a menace," you laugh, flopping back as far as the stiff hospital pillows would allow. "Your PR team must be incredible."

"They better be, for how much I pay them."

You hummed in acknowledgement, looking around his room with a critical eye, noting the immaculate condition of all of the decor and medical equipment, as well as the humongous TV mounted on the wall opposite you; a muted nature documentary flashing across the screen. A large bouquet of blue and yellow flowers were laid next to Shouto's bedside, as well as a carafe of some hot beverage; likely coffee based on the small mountain of tiny creamer tubs stacked up next to it.

"So there's no actual security risk then?" You mumble quietly, fiddling with the edge of your thin knit blanket, doing your best to swallow down the worried lump in your throat. "No sign of Ms. Yokubou or anything?"

"Nothing yet, I'm afraid," Shouto admitted, his face pinching tight with guilt as he examined your anxiously twisting hands. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you unnecessarily."

"It's alright. I've just never been someone's potential target before. It's got me feeling sort of jumpy."

"Understandably," Shouto was quick to assure you. "I guess I'm so accustomed to this sort of thing I didn't really stop to think of how scary it might seem to someone less used to it."

Shouto averted his gaze to the TV for a few moments, flipping to the programming guide channel to allow you the illusion of privacy to collect yourself while you discreetly dabbed the tears pricking the corner of your eyes with the edge of your top sheet.

"So, uh- what was your motivation for moving me in with you then?" You ask, trying to set the conversation back on track after your emotional derailment. "Did you already miss being stuck in a room with me that much?"

"Not quite," Shouto huffed in amusement. "I came to the realization that this was the first time that you and I were both off the clock in the same building. I thought it would be a shame to not make the most of this opportunity to legally fraternize."

"I'm…not sure I'm entirely following your line of thought here," you say, brow furrowed. "You want to what, exactly? Have a date in the hospital?"

"That was my intention, yes," Shouto admitted, rubbing at the back of his neck bashfully. "But hearing you say it out loud makes me realize how silly it sounds."

"No!" You say quickly, shooting up stalk straight in bed, startling you both with the ferocity of your cry. "It's not silly at all! It's kind of sweet, actually. That you can't wait to spend time with me."

"It's just- things are going to get really busy for the both of us now that we're tangled up in a criminal investigation. And I'm not sure when we'll eventually get the chance to be together again,"

"You're right. We should make the best of the time we have together," you nod, rolling onto your side to face Shouto more directly. "And I can say with full confidence that this is the nicest place you've ever taken me. There's a bathroom here and everything!"

"There is!" Shouto laughed excitedly, reaching over to pull the flowers at his bedside into his arms. "And I got these for you, too."

"Really? They're beautiful, thank you," You beam, tugging the collection of blue blossoms into your arms, running a finger softly across a fuzzy green leaf. You notice a card tucked in amongst the blooms and pull it with a quick tug; snorting in amusement at the cartoon stork carrying a blue-bundled baby printed on the front.

"Ughhhhh," Shouto groaned when you showed him the card, scrubbing a hand down his face in frustration. "I asked the gift shop for any bouquet without pink flowers or lillies and this is what they sent. Give it to me and I'll throw it away."

"No!" You cry, pressing the card against your chest away from Shouto's wiggling fingers. "It's mine now, you gave it to me. I'm going to scrapbook it."

"Please don't," he begged, leaning over the rail of his bed to make a closer swipe at the card.

"Or maybe I'll laminate it. Keep it in my wallet for good luck," you muse with a hum. "Would you sign it for me? That would really increase its sentimental value."

"You want my autograph?" Shouto asked, arm paused mid-grab as he stared at you searchingly- for what, you weren't entirely sure.

"No. I want you to sign the card you gave me," you clarify, pulling the card away from your chest and sliding it into his hand. "That's just good manners."

Shouto pulled his hand back, eyes softer than they were just a moment ago as he opened up the side table drawer and pulled out a hospital issue pen.

"You're right. I apologize for my oversight," he said, quickly scrawling on the inside of the card with a speed born from years of practice. You snatched the card back from him as soon as he held it out, excited to see the message he wrote.

'Congratulations, it's a boy!

(The boy is me)

Love, Shouto'

"I'm definitely laminating this," you whisper to yourself, cheeks aching from the force of your smile as you tuck the card safely back into the bouquet and clutch it to your chest protectively.

"So, what else do you have planned for our date?"

Dinner was up next, not because you were necessarily very hungry with the swarm of nervous butterflies you had fluttering around in your stomach; but because a member of the kitchen staff had let themselves into your room to take your meal requests.

"You know, I sort of thought by how much fancier the Hero rooms are that you guys would get better food too," you say, spooning another mouthful of the thin vegetable broth into your mouth.

"All the hospital food comes from the same kitchen. The meals for Heroes aren't any better in quality, but we are permitted to have as much as we want," Shouto explained, prying the lid off of a pudding cup and giving it a tentative sniff. You decide to follow his lead and shift your focus to your dessert, a parfait that was mostly yogurt with a bit of granola sprinkled on top.

"This is actually turning out to be a pretty good date," you say when the TV starts showing a commercial for a local refrigerator repair service.

"You think so?"

"I do," you assure him. "We've even hit two of the major date features you mentioned before. We're having dinner together and you got me flowers. The only thing missing is the music."

"I can fix that," Shouto says as he reaches for the TV remote and punches in the code for a music channel. A music video starts playing; starring a man with bright green skin wearing sunglasses on the beach, flanked by a line of women in bikinis.

"Girl, I think your Quirk must be Twerkin', because your booty really knows how to work it-," The man sang, slapping the right buttcheek of the dancer closest to him.

"So romantic," you sigh, holding a hand to your chest dramatically.

"I'm changing the channel," Shouto grimaced as the camera panned away from the singer and zoomed in on the background dancer's wobbling butts.

"You can't! 'Twerkin' Quirk' is officially our song now, Shouto!" You laugh in delight, soaking in his misery like sunbeams on the first warm day of Spring.

"Everytime I think something else couldn't possibly go wrong, it does," Shouto lamented, a pained look on his face as they began spraying the bikini dancers with champagne while they gyrated next to a sports car with spinning neon rims.

"It sure does seem that way," you agree, fishing out the lone blueberry from the bottom of your parfait. "I'm probably going to have to reevaluate my opinion of this date now."

"Has it finally sunk low enough to earn the 'Worst Date Ever' award?" He sulked, flinging the remote down onto the end of his bed irritability.

"It's definitely cinched the nomination for 'Most Memorable'," you tell him with a smirk, putting your dessert cup down so you could reach across the space between your beds to offer him your hand. The feel of his hand in yours was already a familiar thing; your fingers at home twined together. "But I don't think any date could be bad, so long as you're with me."

"I think you're giving me too much credit, but I'll take it," Shouto grunts softly, deflating down into his pillows to watch the finale of the music video.

"I'll let you take as much credit as you want so long as you take me on another date."

"Agreed," Shouto replied instantly. "And I promise, it'll be better than this."

"I don't think you'll ever be able to top this," you laugh brightly, heart thumping happily as you bury your nose into your flowers and watch as the singer on screen smears oil across his chest while a confetti cannon fires behind him.

"But I can't wait to see you try."

#pigeoncoos #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x you #bnha x self insert #mha x gender neutral reader #todoroki shouto x you #todoroki shoto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #shouto x you #shouto x y/n

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supremechancellorrex · 1 year

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I hear a lot of anti-Jedi and pro-Jedi going back and forth on this platform, but I wonder if we're only dealing in absolutes. That's it, everyone on tumblr is a Sith. Confirmed.

But, seriously (I was serious), are the Jedi good? Are they evil? Are they somewhere inbetween? And what is the system they support? Are they being their 'best selves' by the twilight years of the Republic? Am I a jerk? Are they jerks? Are you a jerk? Well... let's look at both sides and canon as it is, and see where it goes.

Should we ignore the problems and implications?

Dogma: "No! We have orders! We have to go through with this!"

First things first, let's start with negativity, because that's life possibly. There are a number of criticisms which are levelled against the Jedi in the canon. The Star Wars writers didn't always just put scenes and lines in for fun.

Slick: "It's the Jedi who keep my brothers enslaved. We serve at your whim. We do your bidding. I just wanted something more."

The Jedi are accused of slavery in Star Wars: The Clone Wars, which was created by George Lucas as Executive Producer, along with Dave Filoni and a whole host of writers working in collaboration. When Slick accuses the Jedi of being his and other clones' slave masters, it is never refuted by any of the characters, even Obi-Wan and Anakin who he is speaking to. It's never refused by the narrative at all.

Canonically, the Jedi as citizens and being military generals act as the clones superiors and also masters by proxy in the command chain. Slick's accusation is that the Jedi "keep [his] brothers" enslaved, not that they even necessarily enslaved them in the first place. He is indicating that the Jedi have power and agency, which they do as natborn citizens, but they don't direct it for justice and meaningful change in regards to clone rights.

Satine Kryze: "I remember a time when Jedi were not Generals, but peacekeepers."

Now, people have argued that the Jedi do help the clones and they are "in charge of [the clones] care", as Master Shaak Ti says during a continuing arguement where her and Nala Se debated on who Tup, Fives and clones in general belonged to as "property". The Jedi could think themselves better caretakers of the clones troopers than natborn officers like Tarkin, although this verges on character speculation. Canonically, we do see evidence of care, such as Shaak Ti advocating for Domino Squad and calling them "living beings" that didn't deserve to be "cast aside", Mace and Plo Koon and other Jedi do show concern for their men's lives.

But, arguably it doesn't account for much when the Jedi are still working in the framework and structures of slavery instead of protesting it. Being kind to clones doesn't mean much when you prop up the meat-grinder of a system that uses them as cannon fodder.

This is exemplified in the show itself.

Ahsoka: "It's every citizen's duty to challenge their leaders, to keep them honest, and hold them accountable if they're not.”

Unjust actors and systems are to be challenged. The Jedi being nice isn't an absolution for their participation in this system, just as a slave master or a deputy slave master being nice in any context doesn't change the fact that they are still in command of slaves getting thrown into the meat grinder every day. If you support an unjust system, you bear responsibility.

And, moreover, despite moments of compassion from Jedi, for people who value life, the Jedi as an organisation still show a concerning ease with clone death as the war progresses. The Citadel Arc is a great example of this. As Clone Trooper Charger falls to his death and collides with a shock mine, Obi-Wan sasses "Well, they know we're here now" as the other clones still are reaching out in horror. Every time a clone dies on that mission, they leave them behind, even Echo (who turns out to still be alive and is captured by the enemy and tortured). However, despite the urgency of the mission, when Jedi Master Even Piell dies, the Jedi pause the mission to give him a funeral and burial even though the enemy is closing in. If there was ever a message that the Jedi value their slave soldiers' lives less, this is it.

Further evidence includes the fact that Jedi Master Pong Krell's casualty numbers were well-known in the military, to point Torrent Company were openly debating them, and yet no other Jedi General had felt the need to propose a military investigation. Additionally, when the Jedi were fed the cover story the inhibitor chips in their men's brain were just designed to make them less aggressive and more docile, there is no evidence they protested this mental violation. Another neglect in a series of many. Taking this into regard, I think the unfortunate implications are clear.

Perhaps the Jedi should find better use for their mind tricks and lightsabers than cutting up droids and planetary militias all while propping up an unjust regime?

Master enablers

Jedi Master Dooku: "The Jedi blindly serve a corrupt Senate that fails the Republic it represents."

Canonically, the Jedi are deeply flawed as an organisation. They are politically centrist in a way that does not benefit either themselves or the Republic in end, shown to be enablers that uphold the system and law as it is, regardless of how unjust.

How can the Jedi have the high ground when they appease a Senate that supports slavery regardless of how the writers try to downplay it? How can they be morally righteous when they bow down, without much resistance if at all, to such system that uses slave soldiers? Clones die under Jedi command, they work in the Jedi Temple as both soldiers and technicians. The Jedi claim they just can't get involved in changing the system because it's beyond their mandate when what's on their doorstep, what's in their temple, is slavery, slavery that they even benefit from arguably to even maintain their transports and technical systems.

For any person or group in any system, there's a breaking point where things have gone too far, but how much one tolerates up until that point says a lot about their moral character. The Jedi were drafted by the Chancellor (Oh you) and perhaps they thought being 'kind' to the clones when they interacted with them was enough, but it wasn't. And while the Jedi continue to believe in the Republic far beyond acceptable, victims mount.

During the Wrong Jedi Arc, the Jedi Order also show themselves in bad light. It would have been one thing to believe Ahsoka was guilty and leave it at that, yet they practically threw Ahsoka under the bus for politics in reality. Mace kept talking about the politics, essentially showing Jedi PR was a more important factor than Ahsoka's life.

Mace Windu: "I understand your sentiment, Obi-Wan. But, if the council does as you suggest. It could be seen as an act of opposition to the Senate. I'm afraid we have little choice."

Meanwhile, Obi-Wan advocated for Ahsoka briefly, expressing doubts at her guilt, but at best casts a vote in her favour when he knows it won't be enough. Give it to Anakin in this instance, at least he did an actual private investigate to prevent a wrongful conviction instead of sitting back. Like Asajj Ventress said when confronted by Anakin, the Order abandoned Ahsoka and appease a Senate that supports authoritarian policies, kangaroo court trials and a slave army. What a state to die for.

Ahsoka: “This is why the people have lost faith in the Jedi. I had, too, until I was reminded of what the Order means to people who truly need us.”

How can the Jedi believe in the Republic to the point they were surprised when they got inevitably screwed over? Again, the narrative supports the idea the Jedi have lost their way and become enforcers for the Senate, however fascist and dangerous it has clearly become. You kind of have to have in order to become key leaders of a slave army when you were peacekeepers beforehand. The Republic is failing, but so are the Jedi. They fight the war with the tools they are given, from their lightsabers to their slave soldiers, with no solution or appropriate concern for the legislative catastrophe happening at the heart of the Republic until they realise Palpatine's been in a little long with his executive powers. They enforce laws, unjust systems and follow orders.

Fives: "I'm sorry. I cannot just follow orders when I know they're wrong. Especially when lives are at stake."

Captain Rex: "You will if you support the system we fight for."

Fives: "I do support it. I do! But I am not just another number! None of us are!"

TCW shows us that following rules and regulations when they're immoral is the wrong course of action, yet no matter the signs and warning, the Jedi continue to play into Palpatine's hands with their misguided patriotism as the Republic becomes increasing draconian and despotic. The most problematic factor about the Jedi is that they don't acknowledge the problems and the fact the clones' situation is unacceptable on every ground. They don't acknowledge the clones' situation, they don't acknowledge the Republic is bad or try to think of solutions to that even if they don't work. The situation is complicated, but the Jedi went along with bad options when they should have known what the Republic was by this point. How can the Jedi enforce justice when they enforce the corruption of it?

The Jedi continue to believe in the Republic and their part in he hierarchy when it seems more akin to a hostage situation with slaves in the balance. If they're blind, they're fools. If they knew, they're knowing enablers.

A tight spot

Obi-Wan Kenobi: "For over a thousand generations, the Jedi knights were the guardians of peace and justice in the old Republic... before the dark times... before the empire."

Now, the flaws in the Jedi are clear, but it's all well and good to critique them. What could the Jedi have done effectively instead? If the Jedi were more keyed in on the Republic's unsalvageable system and decided to be proactive in regards to it, what could they do realistically? Aside from the emotional weight of getting people to abandon their home and a multi-generation relationship the stretches back centuries and centuries, the logistics of getting 10,000 people to desert and transporting them without the Republic and GAR noticing and stepping in feels unrealistic. Not only this, but they'd be ditching the clones to slavery yet again, as it's not like the Jedi can all desert and take the clones with them like they're plushie toys. Each clone is a different individual and deprogramming child soldiers is difficult.

People like Dogma, Neyo and Bacara wouldn't canonically desert without the right circumstances, Captain Rex wouldn't just desert with Anakin, nor could Obi-Wan sashay Commander Cody and his troops away like some of the fandom thinks. A lot of clones were indoctrinated to be loyal to the Republic from a young age. If the Jedi had just flat out tried desert, Order 66 would have likely happened earlier and Palpatine would have easily painted the Jedi as traitors.

Of course, there are the inhibitor chips as also a factor, but we can only judge the moral character of the Jedi based on the knowledge they did have and what they chose to do with it.

Barriss Offee: "An army fighting for the dark side. Fallen from the light we hold so dear. This Republic is failing. It's only a matter of time."

However, this is no excuse for the Jedi Order choosing the worst option out of a bad bunch. The Jedi crossed the moral precipice. They crossed it ever since AOTC when they decided that indoctrinated, slave soldier of dubious origin were just what they needed to throw into the desert meatgrinder that is Geonosis as the war started. There reasons make sense in their way, there's millions of units of droid army marching their way and the Republic and Senate have only a ten-thousand strong Jedi and the Judicial Forces. At the same time, the reasons for that humanitarian crisis aren't justifications. 'Cool motive. Still slavery' applies here.

Ethically, Yoda and Mace shouldn't have just gone along with the draft without any counter-strategy, especially if they cared about the clones as human beings and a people. They could have pretended cooperation and done discreet resistance at least. Of course, the Jedi even if they resisted weren't probably gonna have a happy ending, as generations under Republic thumb had neutered them and taken their passion and power, but they would have taken the moral and right action.

Instead, the Jedi remain the face of the war effort, using a Trojan Horse slave army just given to them with no real protest. If the Star Wars had truly wanted the Jedi to be wholly good, they'd have had them be more begrudging, cynical and weary at being pressured and coerced by the state. There'd be growing Anti-Republic sentiment, which would have been a start. Rebellion, dissent and mutiny would have been even more valuable and expected. Instead, the Jedi Order are loyal to the regime until the very last moments of the war.

In Conclusion

In the twilight years of the Republic, Palpatine really used every weakness of the Jedi against them. As an organisation, the Jedi really can't save themselves. Individuals can, as shown by Ahsoka leaving, but the Republic destroyed the Jedi, it took their soul, it bureaucratised and militarised their culture, and the Jedi just slid down that slope. That's part of why the people felt abandoned by the Jedi, as the Jedi were too melded to the system both functionally and idealistically, trapped in the snake, them and what they stood for slowly digested as they safeguarded and enforced unjust status quos. Even when Dooku was young, as The Tales of the Jedi said, they were already damned. Ahsoka left, every Jedi should have at that point. The Republic definitely would fight an en masse desertion, but it'd have been the right thing to do.

Some Jedi realised and left, others were too committed the belief of a Jedi Order that had become a shadow of what it was. The Jedi are a warning of what happens when governments, hierarchies and religion connect and influence each other for centuries. At the same time, adult Jedi were responsible for their actions, and each could have done more for the clones than they did.

Fives: "We must be trusted to make the right decision, especially when the orders we are given are wrong!"

#star wars #the jedi order #jedi #anti jedi #pro jedi #i try ok #individuals are lovely #the clones #clone troopers #clone rights #the clones deserve better #star wars tcw #the clone wars #arc trooper fives #ahsoka tano #barriss offee

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gingerjolover · 7 months

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Don't Let Go - Katie Gavin x fem!reader (MUNA)

Sypnosis: Katie teaches their sweet (and scared) gf how to rollerbade!

G's notes: i am so sorry i can't find the request but if you requested this i hope you like it <3

WC: somewhere around 800 words (short king)

Warnings: RPF, tooth-rotting fluff, cheesy silk chiffon reference, kissin'

You’re gonna break your face; you just know it. And then your pretty partner will have to scrape you off the concrete. Suddenly, the rollerblades in your hands feel heavier than ever, and you wish nothing more than to leave this empty parking lot. Actually, you’d do almost anything to go back to practicing on the rug in your makeshift office in your and your partner’s home rather than the blazing hot asphalt under the California sun.

“You can put them down, you know?” Katie giggles, kneeling before you, taking the rollerblades from your hand, and placing them in the open trunk. Katie kneels back down, kissing your knee sweetly before sliding the kneepads up your legs.

“Katie, I look…stupid,” you whine softly, they giggle loudly, throw ing their head back. “No, you don’t, baby… besides, you wanted to wear the–” they start to speak before you cut them off, “Because I’m going to hit the concrete and skin my knees and elbows an–and knock out all of my teeth and–” you stammer, nerves rising in your body.

“Woah woah, hey…baby…we don’t have to do this today if you don’t want…or ever,” Katie says softly, empathy and compassion in their eyes. Your eyes find Katie's, finding humor in them as the love of your life tries to talk you down. “Don’t laugh!”

“I wasn't laughing,” Katie says with a snort.

Your pout is immediate; Katie stands up and pulls you into their chest as you sit on the edge of the trunk. Katie kisses your hair, smooching your head and face, “You don’t have to do this for me, you know?” is mumbled against your hair.

“I want to do this, I do, I wanna be able to go on rides with you and dance around, I’m just–” you huff out.

“Okay, take a deep breath, and let’s get the skates on, and then we can work on it slowly, okay?” Katie says softly, a humorous smirk on their face, kneeling back down to help work the blades on your feet, tightening the laces.

Katie helps pull you up, their hands locked in yours as you stand. Your sweet partner places a helmet on your head and clicks it together under your chin, grinning as they kiss your nose. “Don’t even,” you grumble, noticing Katie is enjoying this too much. “You’re so cute, I can’t help it; look at my baby,” Katie laughs, squeezing your hips.

Pulling you gently, Katie holds your hands tightly, steadying you. “Remember what I taught you, bend your knees slightly, lean forward a little…” they say encouragingly, watching your body get into position. “Okay, good girl, now just take steps…like you’re walking,” Katie says, a proud look in their eyes.

You’re wobbly, so anxious about falling, but you do as Katie says, putting your complete trust in your partner. “Life is so fun,” you grit, making Katie let out a belly laugh.

“Soon enough, you’ll be in a mini skirt, and you'll be a pro, sweet girl,” the words come out between laughs, but they are encouraging.

“Ready to add a longer stride to your walking?” Katie murmurs, watching you focus. “I can’t just do this?” you ask, almost pleading.

“I mean, you can. You just look like Bambi,” Katie laughs.

“Bambi?!”

“You’re all wobbly; you’re not meant to walk in these forever, my love,” Katie responds, sassy but supportive.

“Ughhh, fine…how do I–um?”

“Okay, so, push off with this back leg here—” Katie instructs, pulling their hand out of yours, tapping your thigh before you squeal. “Don’t let go!” in a panicked tone, Katie quickly grabbed your hand again.

“You’re okay… I got you,” Katie murmurs, seeing your obvious panic. “Just use that leg and push off a little, try to glide between steps, increase your stride but not too fast.”

Listening diligently, as they say, you increase the time between steps and gliding on the skates. After a few minutes, you look up at your partner, smiling widely as they hold your hands and glide backward in front of you.

“Good job, baby; you remember how to stop?” Katie asks, smiling.

You give a slight smirk before pushing your toe forward so the nose of the skate stops you on the ground.

“Good girl,” Katie cheers, kissing your cheek, your face instantly flushing.

You spend the next hour gliding and skating around, Katie teaching you how to make turns on the pavement.

When you’re finally back in the car, Katie leans over and kisses you gently, “I’m proud of you, my love,” they say softly.

“Thank you for teaching me, honey,” you say, kissing her again. “Can we come again tomorrow?” you ask; the prospect of skating with your partner makes you giddy.

Katie laughs loudly, holding your thigh as they blast the AC, “Of course, babe,” before kissing you again and driving you home.

#anon cutie #anon cutie requested #katie gavin x reader #muna #katie gavin #munagenius #muna fics

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wolfnesta · 7 months

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I was thinking of the Rhysand and Nesta dynamic and how I would not hate Rhysand so much if it was just done so much infinitely better. So with that if you are absolutely pro rhysand, absolutely pro SJM, here-for-the-fun, just click away, block me, filter, do what you want. Other than that here we go.

So I feel like I understand the read between the lines, kind of relationship were supposed to see between Rhysand’s dislike of Nesta, as in we can read between the lines that Rhysand can’t stand her because of her tendency to resort to insults (which I find personally questionable with the actual material vs what sjm has to blatantly tell the reader left and right and that’s not even considering the retcons but that’s another topic) especially in regard to those that he loves. Him being merely tolerant of her because he’s defensive for those he loves, like Cassian for example, who has been fighting against words like bastard since birth and Mor being from the Hewn city where they are abusive and she is apparently the only good person there (another sjm writing critique but whatever).

So onto what I think Nesta disliking Rhysand should have been portrayed as in acosf.

Let me remind everyone that at this point every single character has dirt on them, every single one has done questionable things, and so I think that a good way to balance this sort of moral compass that we have going on, with Rhysand disliking Nesta for these reasons above, I would’ve liked to see Nesta point out or atleast in the same read between the lines fashion assert her annoyance/defense and insults, specifically towards Rhysand— Since that is what we got is, that it is her way of protecting herself, to insult before she could be insulted which can manifest as cold and calculating— for her to recognize that cold calculating attitude Rhysand has. Albeit not for the same reasons or in the same way Nesta’s barbs are but in his decisions and actions because Rhsyand has that. I’m not open to hearing people say ‘but Rhysand only did this because of that’— let’s not take away the morally gray aspects of a character. Much in the way that Nesta’s defenses aren’t excusable because of trauma the topic here is that Rhsyand has done/does questionable things regardless of reason. Back to the topic, Rhysand has shown to have cold, calculating tendencies yet all SJM let Nesta tell the reader about him— ‘Rhysand might be an arrogant, vain bastard, but he was honorable. He fought like hell to protect innocents. Her dislike of him had nothing to do with what he'd proved so many times: he was a fair, just ruler, who put his people before himself. No, she just found his personality-that slick smugness grating.’ the way that this line is the worst that Nesta ever really says about Rhysand in the entire book and even then its peppered with compliments that seem borderline absurd is so telling of the entire book. Not only that but Nesta encourages the reader throughout acosf that Rhysand has all the right to hate her and she’ll even go as far as say that she hates her self as well yet she doesn’t know how to fix that. That’s the whole point of acosf, right, that she’s healing and learning a better way to cope (much to my loathing). So personally I detest Rhsyands character in that book because Nesta could have given us so much of her own ‘redemption’ as well as touch on Rhysands flaws. Maybe even come to an understanding because of them. Because no Rhysand is not always morally correct but that book insisted on nothing but that. If anything that books served as a huge reminder of real life problems were the men get praised for doing the most basic, standard things that women have been doing all of their lives yet women do something that men do and are still crucified that’s not even considering being a woman w children. The mom works= she’s not present for her children. Mom doesn’t work= she’s just mooching off of the husband. The house unkept= the woman is lazy. It’s always the women that are questioned first/only. Nesta is calculating and cold but let’s not touch upon the 500 year old man’s actions and repercussions, matter of fact let’s flatter him and explain why he hates her. Absolutely hate that and therefore I cannot stand his character. Just butchered. And that’s without touching the infamous pregnancy plot line

#anti rhysand #anti sjm #tagging anti for those that just want to enjoy this series l #I’m assuming it’s been filtered out by now #nesta deserves better #pro nesta archeron #I’ve been refraining from posting think pieces because this series is too exhausting for that #nothing makes sense

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not-poignant · 2 months

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Birthday Spotlight - Ash Glashtyn

[27th February - Pisces]

Ash Glashtyn, the fun-loving, cheerful, highly-sadistic and hypersexual Unseelie waterhorse from the canon Fae Tales series, adopted brother of Augus Each Uisge, and eater of humans, has been a beloved and then polarising character among readers. He's been a star in a couple of stories, but mostly he exists as a comedic, sexual, dangerous foil to his composed, sinister brother.

Ash Glashtyn is a monster who is ashamed of being a monster, but when he's a human, he normally has way less internalised issues with himself, and just wants to make the most out of life! He lives big, loves travel, loves everyone, but doesn't want any romantic relationships out of life. This boy will fuck everyone, and finds everyone stunning and beautiful and worthy of his time, but he's solidly aromantic and isn't planning on sexually cohabiting with anyone (with the exception of Strange Sights and The Wildness Within!)

An unlikely mediator, annoyingly charming, human loving, relentlessly curious, intensely protective, and appreciator of the sensual, Ash is one of the most 'human' of the Fae characters, and I've been happy to have him by my side for over ten years.

I’m a mess . . . I don’t even know. I’m not made for all this high political bullshit. I’m not made for any of it, Augus. I’m just some dude, you know? Just some guy. I’ve been waiting for things to go back to normal ever since you went missing.

The Court of Five Thrones

Shadows and Light - (fanfiction) First mentioned in From the Darkness We Rise, and his first official appearance in Into Shadows We Fall, Ash was a beloved character early on despite being on the enemy side and loving the worst villain in the story. An affable and obvious victim who just wanted the best for his brother, Ash struggled to come to terms with the fact that his brother needed to be defeated, and was vital in securing the win/victory for the good guys, even as it meant ruining himself in the process.

The Wildness Within - (AU) The truly sane part of an OT3 featuring Augus, Gwyn and Ash, Ash managed to keep his brother grounded, get Gwyn out of shackles, stop Gwyn from running away in the human realm, and keep Augus from losing his mind when the Raven Prince kept throwing obstacles into their path. Ash was the compass point that kept them on the path to their true north in this story, and we'd not have the relationship we have between them, or the happy ending, without him!

From the Darkness We Rise - (fanfiction) Mentioned only.

Game Theory - (canon) Ash's first canon appearance is also an intense one. The first time we meet him he is drugged out of his mind, the second time he loathes Gwyn, and is drunk, and the third time he punches Gwyn hard enough in the face to break his cheekbone.

The Court of Five Thrones - (canon) Ash works on a book called 'how to lose friends and my brother by trying to be so overprotective while not listening to anyone.'

The Ice Plague I - (canon) Ash, having reconciled with Gwyn, joins the ensemble cast as Julvia's unlikely protector, and a watchful, compassionate eye on the group.

The Ice Plague II - (canon) Ash, starving into insanity like his brother, Augus, doesn't have a good time.

The Ice Plague III - (canon) We learn Ash's heartsong as he loses it, and meet the Glashtyn for the first time. Not a fun guy, it turns out! Or super fun actually, if you like songs about rape and torture. Which the Glashtyn does!

The Wildness Within - (AU) An OT3 of Ash/Augus/Gwyn, Ash here is his waterhorse self, and this story imagines a world where Augus saves Gwyn from his family, and he and his brother learn how to deal with a semi nonverbal torture victim, and become an unlikely polyamorous triad.

Quid Pro Quo - (AU) Gwyn/Ash. A mostly PWP series of Gwyn finding Ash in the human world, and being coerced-persuaded into sex that has a lot of overstimulation. A lot of hurt/comfort and aftercare moments.

Strange Sights - (AU) Ash/Augus. The 'Ash rapes Augus and nearly ruins their entire relationship' one that features dark!Ash and vulnerable!Augus. This one is probably one of the darker longfics I've written, and it's the only story I've thought about deleting. Eventually I decided not to, and I still think it has some of the most beautiful writing in it. A lot of Ash perspective, for people who enjoy that!

The Shaking Shape of You - (AU) Augus/Ash oneshot, in the world of The Wildness Within. This one's porn, folks.

Tumblr Prompts - Fae Tales - (AU and canon) Ash is in a couple of these! In one, he's an unlikely companion while they all go grocery shopping in the human realm, in another, Augus reads to Ash.

Unwound - (canon) Part of the ensemble cast here, his best chapter is the one where he gets Gwyn high on marijuana and Gwyn gets the munchies.

The Ash and Gwyn Interludes - (canon) Chapters where Gwyn and Ash work to reconcile between the events of The Court of Five Thrones and The Ice Plague. Features rare Ash canon POV chapters.

Ten Minutes and Ten Minutes More - (AU) A Mosk/Eran PWP oneshot where Ash gives Eran 'advice' on how to basically sexually assault Mosk. He has black hair in this one, and looks as sinister and dangerous as his brother.

The Augus and Ash Interludes - (AU) Written in 2013, these started off as canon and some quickly became not canon. But features very sweet or silly or angsty moments between Augus and Ash.

Tumblr Prompts - Fae Tales AUs - (AU) I don't actually remember these O.O Very 'I have no memory of this place' Gandalf quote.

When the Tables Turn - (AU) Augus/Ash, Ash is a detective who decides he wants to rail drug trafficker and crimelord Augus Each Uisge. I never finished this, but it was fun

The Best of Broken Resolutions - (AU) The Architect AU (Gwyn/Augus), in which Ash is a member of a band, and gets way too drunk and manages to make his presence known even in this story.

Salt Water - (AU) Ash/Augus. An 11k Id Fic with magical healing cock. Augus is raped by Stertes (yes, that one), and Ash fucks him better e.e

The Day the Ferris Wheel Came Down - (AU) Before Spoils of the Spoiled even existed, I played with the idea of a high school AU here!

Underline the Silver - (AU) An upcoming Augus/Corbyn Prince omegaverse story, where Ash will at the very least be mentioned.

A fun-loving, booze-loving, human-loving, upbeat-appearing quick-thinker, who always looks on the bright side, is ready to back a friend.

Pansexual, aromantic, and loves everyone. Enjoys sex and making connections, but also is happy to move on and make more going forward.

Loves his brother so much. SO much. Too much? He'd say there's no such thing!

Memes

If cheerful emo manifested into a human person

Redheads have all the fun

What? The cheerful guy sometimes has some deep-seated issues that he's not really talking to anyone about? O.O

Most memorable in the canon for his internal conflict around eating humans but needing to eat them. He loves humans so much that he spends most of his time living with them, something Augus and most Unseelie fae view unfavourably.

An unlikely friend of the Nain Rouge!

If he's going to be attracted to another core Fae Tales character, it's going to be his brother first, and Gwyn second, but only in the AUs.

Getting himself half-killed by The Raven Prince

Betraying his brother to save his brother's life, and that creating bitterness between them.

Using pop culture references around Fae who are all talking like Victorians.

This guy can fit so much alcohol in him!

Betraying Gwyn, but not to save Gwyn's life. The mutiny in The Court of Five Thrones goes down as the biggest turning point for his character in the entire canon.

Ash always has auburn hair except in a single oneshot AU, Ten Minutes and Ten Minutes More.

Always cheerful, and that cheerfulness always hides a darker and more sexual side.

Fucks - does he ever fuck

Kinks are always some variety of overstimulation and overwhelming his partners with pleasure.

Curious about people

Protective over those he perceives as vulnerable, including the humans he eats in the canon!

Ash was initially conceived as a foil to the idea that 'all Unseelie fae are evil' in the same way that Crielle was conceived as a foil to the idea that 'all Seelie fae are pure and good.'

Ash Glashtyn's personality is based on actual folktales connected to the Glashtyn. He has been described as capable of great good and great harm, but he's also been described as a waterhorse capable of extreme evil and sadism. He's actually considered more sadistic than the Each Uisge, which I kept as a trait. In fact there is one story where the Glashtyn in human form stabbed long pins and needles into unsuspecting children and women through their buttocks, breasts and other fleshy parts.

The reason Ash looks the way he does was part of a complex storyline that never came together, which frustrates me, but otherwise Ash and Augus would look very similar so I needed something to differentiate them more easily! Plus I really loved the idea of a character who doesn't look immediately kind of 'dark and forbidding.'

Ash has been one of the most polarising characters. During the Shadows and Light era, most people loved him intensely. During the Game Theory era, people became split. People who never read SAL generally hated him until the very end of The Court of Five Thrones.

Ash's heartsong was a secret that only Augus knew for almost a decade. Even I didn't know it for a little while. I always told myself and others that the only time we'd all learn what it was, was when he lost it. When I knew what it was, I told everyone it began with an A. Only one person out of about 100 guesses got it right. :D

I mean, we’re not dead or being actively tortured so it’s like…prospects aren’t all bad.

The Ice Plague II

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yutaholic · 4 months

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Thank you for even making that post because I honestly feel like I’m going to explode!! Championing every issue is EXHAUSTING. I have such empathy fatigue. Bombardment of “rules”, behavioral guidelines, services, companies, networks + food brands & PEOPLE to boycott ALL THE TIME. Fandom is space many of us come to unplug from reality…it’s certainly my hyperfixation & ppl be like “well then get another one because you shouldn’t support–” IT DOESN’T WORK LIKE THAT. Fuck. I can’t take it anymore. Calls to action being in EVERY single place have weakened my mental state even more than it was before which was already on “pending disability” level of severe & now I’m just. burned t-absolute-f out….at everything!! I can literally FEEL myself unraveling. Kpop stans & their toxic activism can go to hell. They’re so worried about making sure to condemn others for “not doing enough” or being bad people, that they don’t even realize their actions are making them into bad people. This shit takes a toll on mental health, there is science behind this, it is real and what happens to human beings when inundated with constant terrible news, and it’s not just being ~too privileged to care~ but these performative mfs have no concept of blacklisting anymore and just want to assume the absolute worst about someone, call them names & wish harm on folks who are at the end of their ropes! It’s maddening! So even if compassion fatigue isn’t why you didn’t go out of your way to Denounce and Drag™️ him (bc you totally have the right to simply not want to do that on a fanfic blog!) I’m just glad someone else stated that this is supposed to be an ESCAPE. fuck.

Baby, burnout will fuck you up. Don't do that to yourself. Take the time you need and recoup. Life is a constant war and you can afford to lose a battle here and there to focus on your own health and well-being. Getting yourself back into a good place mentally will be a huge win. We both know the ppl obsessed with performative activism aren't doing anything from a place of compassion. The real ones are out there making change, not sending people death threats online from the comfort and safety of their mommy's basement.

When I posted the pic of NCT Dream and Big Time Rush, I wrote in the tags how BTR was something my sister and I loved and bonded over. We watched the show even though it was obviously a kids show and we were both adults. It was just something that gave us joy. My sister passed away years ago and anything BTR-related will make me teary because I think about how much we laughed together over it.

So the first thing I get are messages over how problematic BTR is, that I should delete the post or I'm pro-genocide if I don't dislike them. Ngl that made me so upset because I got a bunch of faceless people trying to taint some precious memories of me and my sister. If they came at me trying to educate me on things I didn't know that would be different, but it's straight to judgment and hatred toward me over something I posted that was totally innocent.

Meanwhile I get criticized for posting about a kpop group instead of reblogging every call to action post. I donate my money to these causes, but I don't post about it because I don't need my ass kissed for doing what I know to be right. I am 1000% sure the anons in my inbox that try to police me have never given a dime to anything, but are policing people's blogs for not reblogging posts or talking about it more.

I feel bad that I haven't been very active on here this year so I try to come on when I have some free time to interact with you guys. I make a silly post about Doyoung and get anons tearing into me for it like I'm his social media manager. Okay so because the world is going to shit we aren't allowed to enjoy anything?? Can't make jokes about anything. Can't show support for anything. Just wrong on every fucking count.

Believe me I am so goddamn aware of how lucky I am that I can sit here and say I'm very privileged that I live comfortably in the life I have. I know what's going on in the world and I do my part to help where I can, but I also have to keep functioning. I don't want every minute of my life to be seeped in anger, I did that for a long time and it not only eats away at you, it makes you ineffective in actually changing the things making you angry in the first place.

This was just supposed to be a blog where I posted my stories. One of the few places I could go and not constantly be reminded of how fucked up the world is. I've always said that people who told me reading a fic of mine made their day a little better or helped them escape for a bit were always my favorite. That was what I came here for and I loved being able to share the tiniest moments of peace and quiet with others through stories with guaranteed happy endings.

I'm frustrated because I have 4 drafts ready to go next year. I got the story posts done and made all the headers. But I don't want to post them. I have no problem admitting I'm selfish and spiteful. Even though I can turn off anon, I can't block these miserable people and I don't want them reading my stuff. They don't get to consume my content and then tell me to off myself right after.

A massive fuck you to those of you that ruined this blog for me.

#empathy fatigue is real #and the reason these shitheads arent getting tired #is because theyre not doing any of it from empathy

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they-are-a-prolife-autist · 11 months

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Hey so uh I actually got fired for being pro life? There's this girl I work with. She's really fake and gets way too much attention from male customers so I never liked her all that much. Well one day I hear her whispering to someone else about how she had an abortion a few years ago. Obviously I fucking hate murderers so I may have lost my cool and started screaming at her. She started to cry (yeah you're not sorry at all bitch) and then I was pulled into the office and....lost my damn job. I guess I probably shouldn't have yelled at her but what she did was really REALLY cold-hearted and just fucking wrong, and I know if she screamed at me like that she wouldn't be fired at all. I dunno, I'm really not okay right now and it's wrong that we can get fired simply for having morals now.

You didn’t get fired for having morals and beliefs. You got fired for eavesdropping on someone else’s conversation and then screaming at them in the workplace. That makes you look bad, makes the prolife movement look bad, and is exactly the reason I have to work so hard to convince everyone I speak to that we aren’t all dickheads who scream at people. Also, calling people sexist slurs isn’t okay.

Look it is good to be passionate about what you believe in. But you cannot treat people like dirt, no matter how much you disagree with them or dislike them, and expect no consequences. Despite the fact that we have drastically opposing views; we should be treating people with love, compassion, and forgiveness. Not calling them names, screaming at them in the work place, and then complaining when we get fired for that behavior. It is totally unacceptable.

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redd956 · 1 year

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Writing Characters with Varying Empathy, Sympathy, & Compassion

Prt.1 Empathy

First of all, let’s put down the elephant in the room. Lately online there has been a lot of misinformation over the factors of empathy, sympathy, and compassion. So first we need to define how these things differ from each other, and what exactly they are.

The Difference

There is a big difference between these three, made significant by how groups of people tend to overreact and get these terms mixed up, causing unnecessary drama. So...

Empathy

The ability to feel, share and/or understand someone else’s pain/emotions from their standpoint.

Sympathy

The ability to acknowledge and feel pity for someone else’s pain/emotions.

Compassion

Action in good faith deriving from thoughts and feelings from empathy and/or sympathy, to relieve someone else of a negative emotion/pain.

Examples

Character A is sad, because a family member of theirs passed away

Character B cries seeing Character A cry, thinking of their own family member, and imagining how tough it also must be for Character A. They go through the motions together that night, finding comfort in each other. -Usage of empathy

Character B frowns at the sight of Character A crying, knowing what had happened. They waltz into the room, readying a comforting pat. “I’m so sorry, Character A.”, They whisper, leaning up against them, and clasping their shaking hand. -Usage of sympathy

Character B sits beside Character A, a large bowl of their favorite ice cream in hand. “Hey Character A, I heard what happened and I just couldn’t stop thinking about how bad that must be. I brought you some ice cream, it could help with the sore throat from all this crying.” - Usage of Compassion

The Variation Aspect

It is important to note that having empathy doesn’t inherently make someone a better or good person, same goes to lacking empathy making people villainous. There are natural variations of empathy among people, and these do not dictate whether or not someone is more likely to follow what societal alignment or another.

People with high empathy can still be awful, just as those with low empathy can still be kind souls. Empathy levels are detached from morals and ideologies, which is an important notion to make when creating characters.

Average Empathy

Average empathy is being able to feel and express empathy of course at an average level. They have an easy time sharing their emotions, and feeling when someone is going through a particular emotion. They simply experiencing empathy as expected an as most due, and don’t share the same realities as those with heightened empathy, and lower empathy.

Heightened Empathy

Empaths or those with Hyper Empathy are people who have heightened empathy. Some people can be this way naturally, but more commonly hyper empathy can be a side effect to having mental illness, such as PTSD, BPD, or ADHD.

(BPD and ADHD can also have lack of empathy as a side effect)

Obviously, empaths feel more empathy than the average person, this leads to both pros and cons, one more than the other depending on which angle you look at it. Empaths share others’ emotions at a noticeable intensity compared the average. They can more easily spot emotional differences, unearth other people’s masks, and are sensitive to tiny changes in mood. They take the other person’s pain as their own very seriously, as others

Because of this crowds of people can be incredibly overwhelming. Human interaction is more emotionally draining, and they can get socially burnt out far quicker than the average person. Empaths have a difficult time setting boundaries with others. They are often labeled over emotional, and sensitive. With empathy having such positive connotations, many assume that empaths have it easier and live a whimsical life.

Lower Empathy

Those with empathy lower than the average don’t have it easy either, as just like empaths, it drastically affects life, especially socially. Different neurotypes, those with mental illnesses, head trauma, psychological trauma, and more can lead to lacking empathy in one way or another. More well known those with cluster B disorders infamously get their bad reputation due to low empathy.

Those with lower empathy have a difficult time taking on and sharing other people’s emotions. Because of this they can struggle to understand and relate to other’s experiences. They have harder time coping with emotional situations, and can easily misinterpret the emotions/emotional responses of others. Their emotions themselves can seem callus, and inappropriate to situations.

All of this leads to difficulty in decision making related to others, social struggles, and trouble fitting in with societal standards. Lack of empathy itself can range drastically. For many it makes them more susceptible to negative and potential dangerous behaviors, as well as a lack of healthy self-esteem. This has lead to people with low empathy being vilified, especially in media.

OH YEAH IM A WRITING BLOG-

When writing a character with varying empathy there’s definitely a lot to consider. Especially since their levels of compassion or sympathy can vary themselves, separate from empathy.

You want to avoid

Using empathy related terms incorrectly, but especially disorder/medical terms related to these things incorrectly

Making a character evil solely because their empathy is low

Making a character a pure hero solely because their empathy is high

Things to consider about a character’s empathy

How a character reacts to situations based on a mixture of their empathy, compassion, and sympathy

If you’re character is lacking empathy, how are they handling sympathy

Are their reactions realistic

How a character’s morals and ideals differ from their empathy

Character dynamics formed by a difference or similarity in empathy

Characters in a group reacting differently based on their empathy, sympathy, and compassion

One character displaying empathy more, while another displays sympathy more

How the character feels about their own level of empathy

How their empathy affects them in their worldbuilding

Do proper research if you’ve decided you want a character with a level of empathy

To be continued, Hopefully here -> [ ] [ ]

Maybe, HeavenlySoup this is a sign of me trying to come up with writing refs for heroic and empathetic characters for those with low empathy to understand, maybe you my dear love, are my guinea pig?

#writing empathy #empathy #low empathy #high empathy #empath #lack of empathy #writing #writing mental illness #writing disability #cluster b

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justinspoliticalcorner · 7 days

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Jessica Valenti at Abortion, Every Day:

You don’t need to be a political genius to know that Republicans are straight up shitting themselves right now. The Arizona Supreme Court ruling in favor of an 1864 ban was a tipping point across the country, and the GOP—in every state, at every level—knows that voters are furious.

It’s not just the nightmare stories of raped children being denied care and women going septic that put voters over the edge, but the disdain for women that seeps out of every anti-abortion decision. At the same time Arizona Republicans are enacting a law from before women had the right to vote, anti-abortion groups and Idaho Republicans are headed to the Supreme Court to argue that states shouldn’t have to give women life-saving abortions. How much clearer can they get? All of which is to say: strategists have their work cut out for them. How can they convince voters ahead of November that the anti-abortion horror show they’ve unleashed on Americans is good, actually?

If anyone has an answer, it’s Kellyanne Conway. The Republican strategist and all-around terrible person has been doing damage control in the wake of the Arizona ruling, pushing out talking points at record speed. And the messages she’s focusing on paint a clear picture of what we can expect to see from GOP candidates—including Donald Trump—over the next few months. In a recent appearance on Fox News, for example, Conway stuck to some of her old standards—namely, attacking Democrats as the real extremists. She honed in on ballot measures, specifically, saying that abortion rights activists are trying to pass amendments that are “more permissive than pre-Dobbs.” Of course, this is demonstrably false. It’s also one of the reasons I don’t love ‘viability’ language in proposed amendments—in addition to the fact that it’s just another restriction, Republicans will claim we’re pushing for abortion ‘up until birth’ regardless.

Conway also repeated some of our favorite anti-abortion bingo words like “compassion,” and “federal minimum standard” in lieu of ‘ban’—but it was something she said about states’ rights that piqued my interest.

[“What is state’s rights? Is it when the state Supreme Court speaks? Is it through a ballot initiative? Is it through the governor and the state legislature working together? Is it through the trigger laws that have been on the books? I can argue that it’s all of the above.”]

Over the last few months—especially as pro-choice ballot measures have advanced in multiple states—I’ve noticed Republicans tinkering with the definition of states’ rights and the ‘will of the people.’ Essentially, they know that they’re passing abortion bans against voters’ wishes, so they need to make it sound as if these laws are something Americans actually want. (That’s why they say ‘consensus’ instead of ‘ban.’)

This week, for example, Fox News ran a headline about the EMTALA case headed to the Supreme Court, stating that the Biden administration is “subverting state’s rights” by requiring hospitals to give women life-saving and stabilizing abortions. John Bursch, an attorney from Alliance Defending Freedom (ADF), the radical legal group arguing the case, told Fox News, “It’s pushing abortion on states that don't want it.” It takes a lot of nerve to pass abortion bans no one wants, only to then accuse pro-choice politicians of disregarding voters’ wishes! But that’s the message I’m seeing come up again and again among Republican legislators, anti-abortion activists and conservative media.

Jessica Valenti’s Abortion, Every Day Substack exposes the GOP’s abortion bans are the “will of the people” charade in which they falsely suggest that the Democrats are the ones extreme on abortion.

These nimrods claim to be for “states’ rights” when it comes to abortion bans, but they would ban it nationwide in a heartbeat if given a chance to do so.

#Abortion Bans #Abortion #GOP #2024 Elections #Kellyanne Conway #Reproductive Health #Abortion Every Day #Jessica Valenti #Anti Abortion Extremism #States' Rights

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cyberthot666 · 11 months

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that’s another reason pro forced birth MEN will never NOT be so repulsive to me. because they are so quick to say shit like “if she didn’t want it why not just give it up for adoption” without an ounce of awareness for how limited their perspective on these issues really is. they have no concept of how traumatizing it can be to experience an unwanted pregnancy. they have no reference for it and they never will. they paint these women as evil and selfish. these acts as incomprehensible. but it is evil and selfish to pretend you would know exactly how to react in a situation you will never experience. it’s incomprehensible to believe you have that say. they have no compassion for these women. and let me tell you something, they never will. but I have something else to tell you. women have been inducing abortions ever since women have been able to get pregnant. women throughout history have endured all sorts of dangerous methods to terminate their unwanted pregnancies. at the risk of their own lives even. and this is never going to change. what did change is we found ways to do it safely. we found ways to detect an egg implantation earlier on. and to get to them quicker before they developed into actual fetuses. saving women and their potential offspring an immense amount of pain & suffering in advance. throughout history men have tried to control women’s reproductive abilities. though they are without the capacity to produce a life within themselves. it’s male audacity that has lead to more abortions than they could ever fathom. you think you know all the answers. even to situations you have no way of ever experiencing. that kind of arrogance is what leads to fallouts you could never have predicted.

#pro choice #women’s rights #reproductive rights #women’s reproductive rights #radfem #abortion #healthcare #women’s issues

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septembriseur · 1 year

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I really find that I can no longer tolerate a lot of what passes for "journalism" online. I don't know what I would call this kind of journalism— "copium" comes to mind, because it is clearly produced as a kind of self-soothing drug that mimics the effects of an opiate, but "copium" is something intended to soothe the pain of defeat, while this is in large part intended to soothe the discomfort of privilege. You consume it so that you will not be confronted by the costs of that privilege.

This is deeply connected to that Kaveh Akbar that I keep coming back to: "On social media, the same rhetorical language was being used about the casting of some Marvel movie as about the leveling of a village in Syria. The same exact rhetorical algorithms of outrage were used to talk about one as the other." If you look at the Slate Magazine front page right now, you see that the same issue exists in journalism: the ending of the TV show Beef, Frank Ocean's performance at Coachella, the trail of Evan Gershkovich, the U.S. Supreme Court's position on abortion, and "the case for the hip thrust" are all positioned at the same rhetorical level of importance. In The Atlantic, "what your favorite personality test say about you" and "the scariest part of a relationship" take up as much space as the pro-life movement's plan to end abortion, Evan Gershkovich, and Dianne Feinstein.

Obviously, there's a capitalist logic to this. We currently live in an attention economy in which profitability is directly linked to "clicks." Media must produce "clicks" in order to remain viable; one easy way to do this is by publishing stories that make people feel comfortable rather than stories that make people feel uncomfortable. When we read stories about personality tests, exercise styles, and pop culture, we are only ever uncomfortable in ways that are easily contained and exorcised. When we read stories about the tremendous and cruel suffering that is the engine of our society, we risk feeling uncomfortable in ways that we cannot deal with: we find those stories complicated to understand and painful to absorb, and hard to engage with. We are more reluctant to read them. Media profits from low-effort journalism because of this reluctance.

I really feel like I see the effects of this in people's inability to meaningfully weigh the importance of things. I'm not characterizing this as some kind of moral crime; I think in large part it's because of the colonization that Akbar talks about that in interview— they have been taught to distribute their attention and their compassion in this way. But we've got to unlearn this. We've got to. It's got to be a deliberate practice through which we arrive at awareness of where our attention and compassion is going and develop the ability to redistribute those things. We have got to learn to be uncomfortable, because being uncomfortable is the only moral position.

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