izuku's love for you is—stifling.
like you've been wrapped thickly in a well-loved blanket, and no matter how hard you claw and writhe, it just gets tighter and tighter and tighter. unrelenting. inescapable. it's something you've grown used to. something you've learned to deal with in your own way, because at the heart of it, you know it's because he cares.
it's easier on certain days. days where he's had a particularly good patrol or where he's had nothing else to do other than relax at home. it's those days where you wake up to dappled sunshine through the window—falling across the smooth planes of his freckled face in a way that's utterly breathtaking—that you breathe easily and know he's safe. the light turns strands of his hair into a gold that contrasts against the deep green, and you brush a hand over his forehead in a way that makes him sigh in his sleep.
safe, you tell yourself again. where you can reach him. he spends so much time outside, jumping around the city to save whoever he can in a flash of green lightning. and you know he takes each and every single life he's saved and stores them in his heart. putting himself on such a high pedestal and holding himself to a standard that you think is debilitating, at times. hero work can be so personal, after all.
he holds the weight of the world on his shoulders, but here—at home—he can be himself. he can be izuku, not deku, and he can laugh and smile and dance around with you in your little, shared kitchen. he can love you without fear of this love being used against him, and he can hold your hands together and promise you another day where it's just you and him.
on other days—it's not as simple. not as easy.
it's the days where he's tasted some form of defeat, you think. some form of wretched helplessness or tragedy that strikes him at his core and topples the very foundation he's based his selfless heart on. he takes all his losses and holds onto them tightly—obsessing and dwelling over them in a way that's unhealthy. a way to cope with his agony.
sometimes he tells you what's happened, sometimes he doesn't—believing it be better if you don't know. but, regardless, at the end of these days he always comes back home—to you. unprepared, unknowing, you.
on one of these days—a day where you think something truly... shook him, deep within—you hear the door open to your home and expect to hear his familiar, cheerful voice. telling you how much he's missed you or about something memorable that's happened on his patrol. but you don't hear a word. it makes you pause and you slowly edge towards the front entrance to peek at him and see what he's up to—if perhaps he's tired and needs help taking off his shoes, or if he's deep in thought about this or that.
instead what you see is his weary, shadowed figure. standing hunched in the entryway with his hair covering his face and a hand gripping onto the edge of the wall where it opens up into the living room. he's breathing heavily, you realize, and you're just the tiniest bit wary before you find yourself hesitantly calling out his name.
it's like a trigger for him. his head snaps up, and you have just enough time to see a small, dark pupil, before he's lunging towards you and sweeping you up in an embrace. tight tight tight can you breathe you can't breathe.
you choke and feel his grip flex around you even further. "izuku—? what—"
"you're here," he murmurs quietly—so quietly—and then he's setting you down and letting his large, gloved hands pass over your face. then your neck. your shoulders and sides. then back up again. feverishly, nearly revenant. you don't say a word, eyes locked on that burning gaze of his—small and shadowed. "i'll keep you safe. you know that, right?"
it takes you all the strength in the world to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth. and your answer is teeny tiny. "of... of course. you will. i'm here."
you don't know if he's seeing you, really seeing you. however, you've dealt with this izuku before. and it never gets easier, not really. but you are experienced. so you let him obsess over you. let the look in his eyes pull you in deep deep deep until you relive those feelings of drowning in all that makes him, him. stifling, you think.
and he holds onto you. and he doesn't let you go.
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I hope this doesn't come off as a knock on the Jedi - because that's sure as hell not my intention - but I do sometimes wonder what could convince a parent to hand their young child over to them. Like, I get that the number of Jedi is miniscule compared to the expected population of the galaxy, and this whole ask is likely just the result of my modern, western, nuclear family-based upbringing. But there are times when I can barely see such a thing happening at all. I mean, if you're a Jedi Seeker, what the hell are you supposed to say to get a mother to willingly give you her infant child?
Again, I do hope this doesn't come off as a knock on the Jedi and their methods.
Maybe consider that the Jedi never seem to be actively going out there trying to convince people into giving up their children. They primarily seem to discover children on their own or who are in bad situations, or the parents call THEM of their own volition and the Jedi simply respond to the call.
You can also look at TPM and the way Qui-Gon handles it with Shmi. Now obviously Shmi and Anakin are in a somewhat different situation than most, given that they're both slaves, which would probably make Shmi's reaction to the offer different than those of regular parents, but Qui-Gon treats her as an equal to himself and as an authority regarding Anakin. He respects that authority by speaking to SHMI before he speaks to Anakin, by asking Shmi different questions about Anakin's past and his powers. And it's Shmi who picks up on what Qui-Gon is carefully NOT saying and asks if Anakin could become a Jedi. And that question lets Qui-Gon know that Shmi isn't against the offer being made to Anakin, so when he makes it official, he speaks to ANAKIN directly. But even after that, he still seems to respect Shmi's authority and her place in Anakin's life when Anakin turns to her more than once.
Shmi seems to primarily just want a better life for Anakin. Even without the slavery situation, she seems to recognize that Anakin's abilities mean that he has the opportunity for a specific career path if he wants it and she chooses to give him that opportunity because she never wants to hold him back. She recognizes that it would be cruel to deny him the opportunity simply to keep him with her.
So it's possible some parents probably view it the same way, that they're giving their child the opportunity for a better life than the one they can offer themselves.
Other parents, like Ahsoka's, seem to view being a Jedi as something of an honor. Even though they CAN give Ahsoka a good life, they recognize that Ahsoka has perhaps a greater destiny that they shouldn't stand in the way of and are HAPPY when Ahsoka shows signs of Force sensitivity. It's not just an honor for Ahsoka, it's an honor for her family and the entire village that she has the opportunity to become a Jedi. The other thing to take into account with this scenario is that the Jedi are sort-of seen as following a call to destiny of sorts, and there appear to be communities who understand that better than most, which means they're likely more inclined to let their child follow that call if the signs make themselves apparent. Groups with their own Force sects (like Lasat, Kel Dor, Chalacatans, etc) might be some of the ones more likely to understand this, which is why we see some of them with multiple family members in the Order at the same time.
These seem to be the most likely options for why a parent might give their child to the Jedi even if they love the child and would otherwise want to keep and raise them. There are also likely some parents who simply don't WANT a Force sensitive child for whatever reason, or parents who just take the first opportunity to offload an unwanted child when it presents itself. Not every parent is a good one, obviously.
I've seen some people argue that Force sensitivity might be something very difficult for a non-Force sensitive parent to deal with, and so they give the child away because they ultimately decide that they cannot appropriately raise a child with powers they cannot control. I don't really buy into this one because neither Luke nor Leia are raised by Force sensitive parents and there doesn't seem to be any issues with control there that we ever see or hear about. But it's POSSIBLE a parent might believe that they couldn't manage a child with Jedi powers and give them up on that assumption, even if it isn't true.
So, yeah, there could be any number of reasons a parent might choose to give their child to the Jedi, even if they love the child and would otherwise want to raise them. It isn't a choice that's going to be for everyone, obviously, and the Jedi have an entire list of people who have either said no or maybe/not yet that they keep in the Temple as a record. So some parents DO say no and choose to raise their children on their own even if the opportunity to give their child to the Jedi is made available to them. Or they simply need time to make the decision or want a little extra time WITH the child before giving them to the Jedi even if they know that that's ultimately what they're going to do.
I don't think the Jedi ever say anything to "get" a parent to give up a child they love. That's never their goal. Qui-Gon talks to Shmi about what Anakin's powers are and how they work, he tells her what her options are, and then leaves the rest of it up to her. All he does is give her more information to work with and an opportunity to act on it if she so desires. That's it. I can't imagine any other Jedi doing any more than that unless the situation between the parent and the child was particularly dangerous somehow and even then, I imagine there are lines they'd try not to cross. The whole episode where we see Cad Bane pretending to be a Jedi in order to convince the parents to give up their children shows us that the parents really DON'T expect the Jedi to do this kind of thing and feel perfectly entitled to say no when it happens.
It's not a choice every parent is going to make, and that's fine. It's not a choice that everyone even needs to UNDERSTAND, necessarily. Different people are going to have different ideas of what's best for their child and how to go about providing that. One parent might feel like giving their child away IS the best thing they can do for their child, even if they could give that child a wonderful life. Another parent might feel like that's the worst thing they could do to their child, even if their situation isn't ideal. These parents are likely to never understand the decision the other one made, but they're making decisions out of the same desire to protect and care for their child. Both are entirely valid choices and there isn't necessarily a right or wrong choice in this situation and that's what the Jedi would understand. All they're there to do is offer information and the opportunity to both parent and child, nothing more, nothing less. What the parent (and the child if they're old enough) does with that is entirely up to them.
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Do you guys ever realize how absolutely fuckin MIND BLOWING is that something like Epic The Musical exist.
The Odyssey was written around the 8th century BC
Thats over two thousand fuckin years ago, two whole ass millenia.
Imagine writing a fanfic SO GOOD that people two thousand years in the future are still making fan songs and AMVs about it.
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