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spider-stark · 7 months ago

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INFINITELY YOU

part three // spitfire

SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.

WARNINGS - 18+, minors DNI

WORD COUNT - 4.5k

// masterlist // series masterlist // send me your thoughts // no way home fan fiction // rewrite

name key: tom!peter = peter // andrew!peter = parker // tobey!peter = pete

On the walk back from Peter Pan’s, it seemed as though Parker had managed to entirely escape the sputtering awkwardness that had ensnared him the night before.

And, after countless city blocks of listening to him babble about absolutely everything and anything, you realized that there was one very striking similarity between him and Peter.

Both boys had a fervent interest in all things nerd.

“New Hope takes place nearly two decades after the rise of the Galactic Empire, meaning that Leia is only nineteen when she's kidnapped and forced aboard the Death Star! Which is like, absolutely insane, right? Seriously! Imagine being nineteen years old and stuck inside of something that has the potential to obliterate an entire planet!”

Shoving open the lobby door to your complex, Parker hardly even waits for you to hum your agreement before continuing his retelling of the Star Wars film.

“And at the exact same time, Luke is finally beginning his Jedi training! Which, honestly, nineteen is actually super old for that, but-”

Moving towards the stairs, Parker close on your heels, you cut him off with a question. “Too old? Nineteen is hardly even an adult,” you argue. “What age do most Jedi start training?”

“About four or five, so obviously Luke was way behind,”

Not even a full three stairs up, you come to a grinding halt, leaving Parker to bump into your back. “Four?!” You cry out, wide-eyed as you spin around to face him. “That’s insane!”

Parker only lifts his shoulders, clearly not understanding the reason for your horror.

Furthering your point, you add, “There’s nothing ethical about taking a bunch of little kids and training them to be weird, intergalactic warriors!”

“It’s the best way to train them!” He lifts his hand defensively, explaining, “The earlier they start training, the less likely it is that the kids will have formed an attachment to their families! That way they learn to act out of logic instead of emotion!”

For a heartbeat, you’re rendered entirely speechless by the absurdity of his claim, left to stand with your mouth agape as you blink at him.

“That sounds like emotional abuse,” you finally huff, shaking your head. “Actually, scratch that—it doesn’t sound like emotional abuse, it just is!”

“It’s not abuse-”

You hold a hand up, stopping him before he can say anything else. “Give me one good reason why a group of adults should withhold love and affection from children if they aren’t abusing them.”

“Uh, how about the fact that love is basically what made Anakin turn to the dark side!” Parker scoffs, clearly unwilling to recognize how insane the notion he was pushing actually is.

“Or maybe Anakin turned to the dark side because he was indoctrinated and traumatized by some stupid space cult!”

The expression on his face is downright laughable.

It was as if you had just reached out and slapped him across the face. His jaw went slack, his mouth hung open in blatant offense. As a sputtering noise falls from his lips, trying and failing to come up with a good rebuttal, you smirk.

“Exactly,” you boast, taking his inability to speak as a sign of victory.

Twirling on your heel, you continue up the stairs, nearly all the way to the top before you finally hear him come stomping up behind you.

“The Jedi Order is not a cult!” He finally shouts after you.

Already traipsing through the hallway, fiddling with your keys, you sing-song, “Whatever you say, bug-boy.”

Reluctant to admit defeat, Parker continues grumbling under his breath as you unlock the door, spouting something off about your lack of respect for George Lucas.

“Look,” you tell him, pushing the door open, “if liking Star Wars matters this much to you, then I’ll gladly watch them with you.” A wry smile plays on your lips as you turn to look at him, standing in the doorway, “Maybe watching them will be enough to change my opinion on turning kids into galactic slaves.”

Eyes narrowing in a playful glare, he’s only able to hold the expression for less than a few seconds before a laugh causes him to break character. “I just can’t believe that Peter hasn’t made you watch them already,” he admits. “I had you watch them so much that you could probably recite the scripts from memory alone!”

His amusement dies off as soon as he finishes the sentence. Despite having been the one to bring it up, the mention of his world seems to cast a sullen shadow over him, ruining his sweet, boyish smile.

Curiosity instantly claws at you, begging you to ask him why his world seemed to have such a negative effect on him. Or, rather, why his version of you seemed to have such an effect.

This had happened last night too, when you had asked him if the two of you were friends in his world—and it was because of this that you assume that you’re somehow the common denominator in his discomfort.

Still, you don’t let yourself ask him about it. For as much as you’re starting to like Parker, you don’t know him nearly well enough to try prying into his life.

Not yet, at least.

“Well, you’re more than welcome to force me into sitting through them in this world, too.” You tell him sweetly, sweeping an arm out to gesture inside of your apartment, inviting him. “It’s not like I’ve got any plans for the rest of the day.”

You couldn’t even remember the last time you did have plans. Life had been so quiet since that last night with Peter and Mj—the night when everything went so horribly wrong.

Parker sucks in a breath through his teeth, a hand coming to rest against the back of his neck. “I should probably get back out on the streets,” he reluctantly says, sounding more like he was convincing himself of that than you. “But, I don’t know, maybe we can take a rain check on it, yeah?”

Disappointment washes over you, sudden enough that you’re sure it shines through on your face. It takes a shocking amount of willpower to stop yourself from trying to persuade him to stay, wanting to remind him that two other Spider-Men were already running themselves ragged in pursuit of the villains—so why did he have to go, too?

You had grown used to his constant talking, having found solace in the chatter that kept you from slipping too far into your own thoughts. Selfishly, you wanted him to stay so that you wouldn’t have to be alone; so that you wouldn’t have to risk thinking too long about Doctor Strange or the multiverse or constants or Peter.

The thought of admitting any of that out loud, however, felt incredibly humiliating.

“For sure,” you force a smile, trying to ignore the many thoughts swirling in your mind. Then, eyeing the slightly too-tight Ramones shirt that he’d stolen from you, you add, “But shouldn’t you at least come in and change?”

His nose wrinkles slightly as he shakes his head. “Nah—I think this city has more than enough spider-people swinging around it right now. I figure we might actually benefit from one of us patrolling on the ground-level, y’know? Maybe I can ask around for any giant lizards or blown light bulbs.”

It’s hard to tell if the last bit is meant to be a joke or not, but you laugh anyway if only to avoid knowing why you should be worried about lizards and light bulbs.

“Sounds like a plan,” you second his idea. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later then?”

A surprising sense of joy lights his eyes at the sound of your hesitance, unfitting of the simplicity of the moment, but charming nonetheless. He grins—a wide and endearing sort of grin—as he takes a step back, “I won’t be gone long,” he promises before reminding you, “lock the door behind you, alright? And if you need anything-”

He pauses, patting the pockets of his jeans only to remember that he didn’t bring a phone with him to this universe—and that, even if he did, there likely wasn’t a wireless plan good enough to support multiversal travel.

“If you need anything, call 911.”

“Got it,” you laugh, watching as he stumbles backwards towards the stairwell, cheeks red with faint embarrassment.

Turning to go inside, you can’t ignore the warmth that now blooms in your chest.

You could definitely get used to having him around.

A peculiar sensation prickles at your skin, curling along your spine like icy fingertips.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

The usually comfortable atmosphere of your apartment had shifted. An eerie tension fills the space, a near-suffocating feeling that has the very walls holding their breath, humming a tune of warning as you inch further into the living room.

Your stomach twists as the sharp tang of exhaust fumes fills your nostrils. By the couch, a faint breeze rustles the curtains of a window, wafting in the nauseating scent of the city street below—a window that hadn’t been open when you left earlier.

A mere foot or so away, you notice that the picture frame Parker had been fiddling with before is now lying on its face, having been knocked off the end table and abandoned. Atop the table, you notice that the lamp is sitting askew, its base just inches from tumbling over the edge and joining the frame.

Someone had come in through your window—and it didn’t appear as though stealth had been very important to them, given that they had clearly stumbled into the table upon their entrance.

Adrenaline floods your senses, your spine stiffening as you take a series of slow, quiet steps.

Moving towards the corner, you carefully reach out a hand to grab the metal bat propped against the wall. The bat had been an unlikely housewarming present from when you first moved in, given to you by Peter’s mentor and your own reluctant renegade, Tony Stark. For nearly two years now it had sat in this corner, unused and gathering dust—until now.

You wrap your fingers tightly around the base, wincing slightly as the rubber grip pulls at the still-healing flesh on your palm, making you curse yourself for not properly bandaging the wound last night.

But you’re used to pain—and so you’re easily able to bite back against it as you ease through the living room, checking for any sign of the intruder's presence.

As you walk, gripping the bat like your life depends on it, you can’t help but hear Tony Stark’s voice echo in your mind.

If you’re gonna live alone, then you should have some sort of protection—he had told you, gently placing the cool steel into your hands for the first time, a ribbon tied sloppily around it—not that you need it.

Satisfied with your search of the living room, you start easing towards the hall. You’re good at sneaking around, having had a lot of practice at it—every movement you make is calculated, every footfall so purposefully gentle that it’s nearly silent.

Quiet as you were, you could do nothing to ease the sound of your blood thrumming wildly in your own ears, your heart pounding against your chest.

The incessant beating worries you—because you know that there are people in the world with the unnatural ability to hear such things. Peter, even with his enhanced hearing, had to be close to someone in order to hear something as soft as their heartbeat; but you had heard rumors that there were others who could hear a pulse from miles away, others like the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

The thought makes your blood run cold, though you try to push the worries from your mind. From what you know, the Devil doesn’t have a habit of breaking into apartments, nor was Queen's his usual jurisdiction.

No—what you were dealing with had to be no more than an average burglar!

An average burglar who, somehow, scaled up the side of a building to break into your apartment…

Alright—you think, approaching the end of the hall—perhaps it’s a not-so-average burglar, then! Still better than the Devil.

Peeling one hand from the bat’s handle, you curl your fingers around the doorknob to the guest room, Parker’s room. You ease the door open slowly, trying to keep the old hinges from crying out as you peer into the space.

The sweet scent of vanilla is the first thing that hits you, contrasted by the subtle bite of vetiver.

Parker—the room smells of him, even though he had only been here for one night.

On the bed, the quilt is rumpled and thrown about, pillows strewn about. The doors of the armoire are wide open, a few old shirts hanging over the edge of one of the shelves, no doubt from when he went digging through your clothes in search of something to wear.

The room was messy, but empty.

Your shoulders sag, half-a-breath loosing from your lungs. The relief is short-lived, however; as by the time you edge back into the hall to turn towards your own door, you’re overwhelmed with dread.

If whoever broke in was still here, then this was the only place they could be—save for the bathroom, though you seriously doubt any burglar would have much interest in scouring through your toiletries…

Easily, gracefully, you twist the knob, the metal yielding quietly to your careful touch.

The curtains are tightly drawn, eradicating any trace of sunlight and leaving the room cloaked in shadows. But, even in the darkness, you’re able to see the rough outline of a figure sprawled out across your mattress.

For a split second, you think of Parker’s advice to call 911, the weight of your phone suddenly heavy in your back pocket.

You think of how you should follow that advice.

You think about how fast you could run—if you would be able to reach the front door before they could catch up to you.

But then you stop thinking, disregarding all logic and reason as you take a step into the room, as if drawn in by some invisible force.

Remaining mindful of your surroundings, you slowly approach the edge of the bed. Squinting in the darkness, you try to study the body laid out atop your comforter. Watching the steady rise-and-fall of their chest, it suddenly hits you that, whoever they are, they’re asleep.

Slinking around the corner and coming to stand at your bedside, you’re finally close enough that you can see them in spite of the absence of light. Crimson and blue spandex clings tightly to their arms as they cling one of your pillows to their chest, and you feel your entire body sag with relief as you loosen your grip on the bat.

So this must be Peter 2.

The fabric of his mask is bunched up and resting along the bridge of his nose, which is somewhat smushed against the pillow he’s holding, no doubt leaving him to breathe in the scent of laundry detergent and your perfume.

Lower, you can make out the subtle contours of his jawline and the curve of soft, pink lips. Higher, you’re met with the impassive stare of then white lenses sewn into his mask.

The lenses shield his eyes from your view, and a curious feeling begins to tug at the furthest corners of your mind. Take it off—it seems to whisper, compelling you to move in closer, your shins pressing against the side of the mattress—take it off.

You grit your teeth and try to ignore the feeling, try to ignore the velvet-voice slithering through your mind; begging you to look at him, to touch him, to notice him, to-

Pain shoots along the side of your temple, likely in response to the sudden tightness in your jaw. It distracts you enough that you’re able to shake the strange feeling long enough to regain your focus—even if the remnants of it still linger.

You shouldn’t be interested in him—you should be pissed at him.

Not only had he broken into your house, which was already bad enough, but he had also climbed into your bed and made himself cozy! The absolute gall, the audacity he must have, has you allowing the tiniest sliver of rage to ignite inside of you.

Both hands still gripping the bat, you lower it from where it rests against your shoulder to swiftly jab its head into his stomach.

A cough sputters past his lips as the impact pushes the air from his lungs.

You’re actually shocked that you landed the blow—in truth, you had expected his spider-sense to kick in and detect the incoming hit, waking him with just enough time to dodge the shot. But, apparently, his instincts had made the mistake of assuming that you were of no threat to him.

“Morning sunshine,” you chime, your feigned cheerfulness set off by a sneer.

He’s scrambling into an upright position, knees sinking into the mattress as he presses a hand against the sore spot you’d created on his stomach. “What the fu-”

His voice is hoarse—from sleep or pain, you’re not sure—and he doesn’t finish the curse spewing from his mouth once his head shoots up towards you, as if finally registering the sound of your voice.

“I don’t know what things are like in your world,” you muse, swinging your bat back to rest against your shoulder, “but in this one, breaking and entering is considered a crime.”

He’s still catching his breath, and while those damn white lenses covering his eyes give so little emotion away, you assume that he’s going to apologize. It’s what Peter would do, and Parker, too.

But not him.

“Your friends said I could stay here,” he defends himself. Taking another deep breath and extinguishing the burning in his lungs, the lower-half of his face transforms into a defiant smirk. “It’s not breaking and entering if you were invited.”

“And did they tell you to sleep in my bed, too?” You shoot back, brows rising in annoyance. “Word of advice: next time you’re invited to stay in a total stranger’s house, maybe try not to repay their kindness by crawling through their window.”

He mocks you without missing a beat, “Word of advice: you live in a shitty neighborhood—if you don’t want people coming through your windows, you should try locking them.”

“Ah, right! Cause the average person is definitely willing to scale the side of a building for the prospect of an unlocked window!”

“You’re a pretty girl in a dangerous city,” he drones, lifting a shoulder as he meets your sarcasm with purposeful calm. “You’d be surprised what people would be willing to do for a chance at getting you alone.”

The insinuation sends a shiver down your spine, but you mask your unease, flashing a smile that’s more predatory than sweet. “Aw,” you coo, “so you think I’m pretty?”

He returns the expression, skillfully avoiding your derisive question. “I think you’re irresponsible—and a little cocky.”

“Better to be cocky than a felon,” you remark. “Just spare my neighbors the acrobatics show next time, would you? Maybe try knocking on the door like a normal person! Preferably when you’re not dressed like… that.”

It’s not that his suit wasn’t nice, because it was. But it lacks the advanced Stark-tech that makes Peter’s suit so uniquely sleek, meaning that it was likely safe to assume that no one in this world would mistake this boy for the real Spider-Man.

Unless they were to catch him scaling up the side of your building…

“I tried knocking.” he sounds exasperated, as if you are testing his patience. “You weren’t home.”

You snort a laugh, wondering if he truly believes that is all the reason he needs to break into someone's home.

“Then you should’ve waited until I got home,”

“I hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours. I was too tired to wait.”

“Then you should’ve slept in the alleyway with the rest of the strays,” you hiss at him, fingers tightening around the bat as your frustration builds.

The sheer ferocity in your voice gives him pause, stunning him into silence.

Then the corner of his mouth begins to twitch upwards, lazily grinning at you as if he actually enjoys the verbal onslaught.

You can tell that he’s watching you through those white lenses, and his tongue darts over his bottom lip, you feel your breath catch in your throat. “Fine,” amusement dances in his tone as he raises his gloved hands, “fair enough.”

For a moment, no sound comes from your parted lips, leaving you to stand there gaping at him until you remember how to speak. “Fair enough?” You echo, shaking your head slightly. “That’s all you’ve got? No apology?”

He moves, forcing you to take a step back as he shoves his legs over the side of the bed and rises to his feet. He’s not as tall as Parker, but he still stands an inch or so higher than you, making it hard to not feel intimidated as he stares down at you, your own face staring back from the reflection of his lenses.

“Better not push your luck, Spitfire,”

He’s baiting you—he has to be! Using a stupid nickname to get under your skin, to try and prod further at your short temper. And it’s working—god, you hate how much it’s working!—because you find yourself contemplating putting his superhuman durability to the test by whacking him over the head with your bat.

“By the way,” he says before you have a chance to act on your intrusive thoughts, pointing at your hands, “you’re bleeding.”

As if his words switch a flip in your head, you’re suddenly aware of the acute throbbing in your palm. You loosen your grip on the bat, letting it clatter recklessly to the floor as you hold your hand out to examine it.

Unsurprisingly, the rubber handle managed to tear open the barely-healed cut on your palm, courtesy of your too-tight grip on it. You hiss through your teeth, watching as blood oozed from the cut, dripping down towards your wrist.

Slipping past you, the boy only half-manages to stifle his laugh. “You should probably take care of that.”

He’s already slipping out into the hall by the time you regain enough awareness to follow after him, gritting your teeth against the pain.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

“To the other room,” he calls over his shoulder. Once he’s standing in front of Parker’s door, he spins back around to face you, his snarky expression still in-tact. “Where I’m hoping you won’t follow me.”

Everything about him causes your blood to boil—his grating voice, his insolent attitude, his stupid soft lips.

“Would it kill you to be nice to me?” You exclaim, your voice strained with pain as you try to wrap your hand in the lower half of your shirt.

It takes no-time for blood to start seeping through the thin material, and you certainly don’t look intimidating like this—the lower half of your abdomen on display as you try to apply whatever pressure you can to the wound—but you don’t care.

“I don’t have to let you and Parker stay in my house—I’m doing it because I’m nice, alright? And, so far, you’ve been nothing but a dick!”

The thin fabric of his mask shifts, brows furrowing at the mention of Parker. Unlike Peter, however, he doesn’t bother commenting on the nickname. “Nice isn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe you. Especially since you’re the one calling me names.”

The levity in his tone makes you want to scream—what was his deal?!

You press harder against your bleeding palm, your breathing turning shallow. You’re not sure if it’s frustration or pain or what, but you feel like your head is spinning. “Look, I don’t know you, alright? But this? Isn’t gonna work,” you bark at him, chin lifted defiantly as you stare into his mask, unrelenting. “If you plan on staying in my house, then you’ll get your shit together—got it?”

His head tilts, curiously watching as you continue your frantic speech.

“No crawling in through my windows or sleeping in my bed or smarting shit off! And take off that stupid mask!” You huff, shaking your head. “Or, I don’t know, pull it down the rest of the way! Just do something because you look stupid like that!”

The words are spewing from your mouth like a torrential downpour, fueled by the rage swirling in your stomach and the throbbing in your hand and—

He laughs, a genuine laugh that isn’t born of derision, and you feel your racing thoughts slow to a halt. “You should work on your insults,” reaching for the nape of his neck, he tugs his mask off. “Because that was pathetic.”

It’s no longer just your thoughts that have slowed, but the entire world. Everything around you feels like it has come skidding to a stop—leaving you staring up at him like a dumbfounded idiot.

He’s beautiful—a commonality among Peter’s variants, it seems.

He’s smirking, an infuriatingly charming smirk that lets you know he has no intention of listening to your demands for him to silence his quick wit. But you’re not focusing on that—no, you’re focusing on the features that had been hidden from you this whole time; his dark hair, tousled from removing his mask, falls in a chaotic halo around his face, contrasting the vibrance of his eyes.

His eyes.

They leave you breathless, and you hate it. Colored with the deepest cerulean you’ve ever seen, his eyes feel like staring into the depths of a crystalline ocean. You can almost feel yourself getting swept up in their tides, feel them enveloping you in a feeling of familiarity, as if this wasn’t the first time you had been pulled into their ebbing waters.

“Have we–” your mouth has gone dry, your voice cracking. “Have we met before?”

It’s a ridiculous question, and you recognize that even as it’s spilling from your lips. You couldn’t have met him before—not when the two of you weren’t even from the same universe!

He seems to be thinking the same thing, and you’re already preparing to take the full force of whatever smartass comment he’s about to fling at you. “I’ve met you,” he says simply, taking you by surprise. Then he inclines his head towards your still-bleeding hand, “You should patch yourself up before you stain the carpet.”

You look down at your hand, at the hem of your shirt, soaked in blood.

“But just so I know,” you look back up, his body half-turned towards the door, his fingers resting against the knob, “if Peter and Parker are already taken, then who does that make me?”

You have to force yourself to take a breath. “What did I call you in your world?” He’s silent for a moment, staring at the floor and chewing on his lip. Then, pushing the door to Parker’s room—their room—open, he smiles.

“Pete.”

a/n - ayyy, pete's finally here! and, ofc, lots of other little important details sprinkled around as well.

also, i really wanna say thank you to everyone who has been reading and enjoying this story so far! it truly means the world to me to read all of the nice comments and to know that you guys are interested in this story! so, again, thank you 💖 as always, please comment/like/reblog and let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist!

part four, titled "blooms of subterfuge", to be released april 29th

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heartpascal · 2 years ago

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the world is brighter

▹— joel miller x platonic!f!reader

▹— summary: joel is trying to be someone he’s not.

▹— a/n: so this is meant to be the reluctant daughter fic…. and it didn’t turn out exactly the way i planned :( not sure that i like it at all honestly, but i wanna put smth out for y’all and this is 13K words that i cba to rewrite so… love you.

▹— warnings: references to suicide attempt, familial loss, previous good relationship with (assumed) biological dad, blood, so much blood, murder (you kill someone), fighting, i think you could class this as dissociation/blackouts but i’m not sure (pls tell me if it’s something different), fighting, canon-typical violence, angst — please tell me if there’s more, ive been trying to keep up to date but i’ve written this fic over so many days. be mindful, this one might be kinda heavy.

▹— tags: @auggiesolovey @just-kaylaa @evyiione @lemonlaides @fariylixie0915 @erensloveinterest @dazedshoon @faceache111 @randomhoex @canpillowscry @sleepygraves @pedropascalsrealgf @star-wars-lover @coolchick333 @soobsdior @ilybbg @rvjaa @oliest19xx @pedropepsi @sunflowersdrop @truthfuleeyours (if you’ve been tagged it’s because you requested to be on my general taglist! if you want your tag removed, drop me a message! <3)

masterlist

howl’s song associations!

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Living in Boston QZ hadn’t been your idea. No — you never would have chosen the so-called safety of the walls, which were only filled with bad people and worse authority, but you had been left with no other choice.

Pronounced an orphan on your way to the QZ, you didn’t know what else to do. With nobody to guide you or advise you, you had gone ahead with the original plan, walking the final twenty-something miles alone, in some sort of absent state.

The journey was a blur, and so was the arrival, you only really remember seeing the green flash of the cordyceps tester, reminding you of all you had lost. Every time you closed your eyes after that, the shade of green haunted you.

They had put you up in a FEDRA school, and so you began your training to become an officer. You hated it, hated the FEDRA organisation as a whole, and hated being in Boston when the person who had wanted to be there didn’t make it.

You tried not to make a habit of sneaking out after the first time, but you couldn’t help yourself. Most days, you were so exhausted from your nightly adventures through the QZ that you got everybody into doing more drills. Not many people were a big fan of you, but that was the way you preferred it.

You liked being alone, really. Enjoyed the silence that echoed through your room, the absence of other people letting you simmer in your own feelings. Your father had always reprimanded you for wallowing in your own self-pity, but he was no longer around to do such a thing. So, you wallowed.

Between climbing out of your bedroom window, jumping across rooftops to reach a particular apartment building with an actual view outside of the wall, you spent your time disconnected from the hellscape you lived in. Everything felt so far away, so out of touch, and the only moments you blinked back to reality, you were dripping in blood. Down your face, your hands, so much of it that you didn’t know where it started or ended. Or if it was your own.

Everything coming back into focus at once was dizzying enough, and sometimes that feeling was so closely related to blood loss that you had been sure somebody must’ve stabbed you, must’ve finally managed to get past your survival instincts, must’ve brought you to your end, at last.

But then you’d wake up, blood dried, no sign of the looming figure of death in front of you. There was only one occasion where the blood must’ve been mostly your own, and that was a broken nose. You pretended not to be disappointed, each and every time. Despite everything you had done to survive, everything you still do, there was a darker part of you that hated yourself for it. That blamed you.

It was one of those times yet again, where one moment you swore you were paying attention in your FEDRA classroom, and the next you blinked, eyes opening to the sight of bloodied hands in front of you.

It was everywhere, you would swear on it, underneath your fingernails, between each digit on your hand, even dripping down your wrist. It was warm and clung to your skin, even when you wiped your hands against the jeans on your legs. You blinked again, finally moving your eyes away from your sticky hands, and you gulped down a lump in your throat at the sight in front of you.

You recognised the man — a snarky guard at FEDRA, one who always had it out for you. You could see a slither of the face that always glared over at you underneath all of the red blood.

It didn’t take much realising to know that you wouldn’t get away with this thing, that this would be something that killed you. If they found out, if, then you were dead.

You needed to know, had to be sure, if this was going to be the final thing, your final action, if you had actually killed a FEDRA guard. But despite that, despite knowing that you didn’t have another option than to look if his chest was rising and falling, you couldn’t draw your eyes in the direction. Even when you tried, your chin fell to your chest, eyes back on the hands that were cradling one another in your lap, feeling far too heavy for your arms.

With the sharp way your breath was coming into your chest, you were starting to realise that your hearing hadn’t returned with your sight, and you jumped when the realisation brought it back, a rush of sound hitting you all at once.

The distant sound of gunfire, the whirring of a generator nearby, the sound of your own hyperventilating breaths, it all echoed too loudly, far too much going on for you to comprehend it all. So much so that you missed the footsteps heading your way, missed the sound of crunching stone as somebody else stepped foot on the rooftop.

A hand against your shoulder had you rearing around, fists drawn back and pushing forward until they hit the person, hard, and the hand was immediately withdrawn. You continued forward, eyes blinking closed in a flinch as the hand grabbed your wrists, holding tight until you stopped trying to pull them away.

“Jesus Christ— Tess, get on out here!” The voice belonging to the person holding on to you yelled out, about as loudly as he dared, and you bared your teeth with clenched fists at the woman who pulled herself up from the fire escape on the apartment building.

“Jesus,” She echoed, looking between you and the FEDRA agent with raised eyebrows, a slight grimace, marring her features. She looked over at the man who was grasping your wrists in a bruising grip with a questioning gaze. “What the fuck went on here?”

“Get your fucking hands off of me!” You spat out, tugging your arms, trying to get out of the man’s grip as you grit your teeth, your mind still reeling with everything that was going on.

He stared sternly at you, “You gonna calm down?” When you responded with a more than angered nod, he nodded, releasing your wrists and stepping away, leaning to look at the FEDRA guard still lay at your side. He kicked the guy in the side, and there was no hint of a reaction. “Dead.” He told the woman, Tess, with an odd look on his face.

“Well, shit, kid.” Tess sighed, hands on her hips as she looked at the situation before her. She shook her head with a tut, and approached to have a look at the guard herself. “What happened?”

You just continued baring your teeth, metaphorical hackles raised high, and Tess just responded with a blank look on her face, a dismissive purse to her lips as she moved her gaze over to the man.

He tilted his head, looking between you and the body, “Could’ve been anyone.” He suggested to Tess, rocking his head from side to side in something like deliberation. You stared hard at the two of them, confusion still buzzing through your head.

“Could’ve been.” She agreed.

They shared a look, communicating between only their eyes, and they had no reaction to the way your hands clenched, your head snapping between them. You didn’t know what had happened, couldn’t understand what was going on, and you had no idea who these people were. It really didn't provide any reassurance, and your eyebrows lowered over your eyes, a glare prominent on your features as Tess huffed.

“C’mon, kid.” The man said to you, offering a hand to help you up from the ground. When you stared at him, that glare on your face, he raised his eyebrows in annoyance. “It’s either you come with us, or you’re found here with him and hung. Your choice.” He told you, hand still offered out, and you grit your teeth as you took it, letting him pull you to your feet, and steady you when you stumbled, everything feeling a bit too real.

You focused on where you were going, rather than who was leading you there, as the two of them took you down the fire escape, hurrying you into an open window on the second flight down from the top. You didn’t take any notice of the bloody handprint Tess wiped away after you had managed to get yourself through the gap, instead looking for the doors.

“You can calm down, kid, we ain’t gonna hurt you.” Tess said, sounding snarky as she moved past you to their kitchen, where she helped herself to a glass of illegal alcohol. You raised your eyebrows, knowing that wasn’t a FEDRA-supplied bottle.

You huffed, watching the man look around the area before he shut the window, flicking the lock into place. “Can never be too careful.” You murmured in response.

“Ain’t that the truth.” Tess said, somewhat amused. “I mean if anybody here’s showed some aggression, that’d be you. Gonna tell us what went on up there?” She asked between careful sips from her glass, measured, or maybe, savouring sips.

At her question, your eyebrows furrowed once more, and you pulled your bloodied hands close to your chest, jaw clenched.

“No?” She asked, leaning forward with an expectant expression, and she opened her mouth to ask some more questions, say something else, but the man cut her off.

“Tess,” He warned, eyebrows raised, “Take it easy.” He glanced back to you, to the hands you held close to yourself, and frowned. With a nod of his head, clearly expecting you to follow, he headed down the hallway. You looked at Tess, hesitantly following the man as she nodded with an exasperated scoff.

He opened a door, revealing their bathroom, which had certainly seen better days. You wouldn’t exactly cheer for the bathrooms at FEDRA school, but jesus — at least it was better than what the general public got. “Head on in, clean yourself up. Don’t want anybody seein’ that on you.”

With some reluctance, you kept a hostile expression plastered on your face as you stepped into the bathroom, flicking on the tap in the sink and running your hands under it. Up until that point, you had remained ignorant to the way the blood clung to your skin, sticky and not quite cold, but now there was the opportunity to be rid of it, you became desperate.

The water helped, slightly, but not fast enough for your liking, resorting to the scraping of your dull nails against the drying blood, up until flakes of red started to melt away, colouring the water as it drained.

Their mirror was broken, and you couldn’t have been more glad. You were sure that if it had been there when you glanced up, if you had to look yourself in the face, you would be sick. You didn’t want to face the fact that all of this was real. You had just killed a FEDRA guard.

“Alright, that’s enough of that, now.” The man said, reaching into the sink and pulling your hands away from the stream of water when you ignored him. He shut the tap off, staring at you with that same strange expression, only glancing away to grab the towel that hung over the door. You took it, drying your hands hastily before you shoved it back towards him.

You were shoving past him before he could get another word out, barely even able to grab the towel as you passed it back. He blinked, a frown forming a deeper crease than usual between his brows.

“Listen, I—I really need to get back. Curfew is going to be over soon, I think.” You fumbled around the words, hurrying down the hallway you came from and spinning around in the room to try and reorient yourself. You finally saw the door you believed to be the exit, and headed towards it.

“Well, hold up,” Tess said, frowning and reaching out to you, stepping back with a slight scoff when you moved away from the reaching arms. “Daylight’s gonna break any second, you’d be better off waiting for curfew to be over with. And,” She added, tilting her head at you with a stern look, “You still haven’t told us what went on. We’re covering your ass, right now. If anything goes to shit it’ll be us keeping you safe. You realise that?”

You did realise something — and that was the kind of people you were dealing with. You’d heard from them, and not from the FEDRA teachers, but from other trainees, other students.

When the world went up in flames, FEDRA had been the first to seize onto power, and they held on to the pretence that they had never let go. But the world was still burning, and the people had begun rioting, and there was another opportunity for a power-grab. It was people like this who had taken that opportunity, who had made something of themselves in a world on fire.

You knew then that the way she had likely gotten that bottle of alcohol was through her own network. She was a manipulator, clearly, a blackmailer. She used the resources she had, and she definitely made the most of them. She wasn’t bluffing.

“So, what? I don’t tell you and you sell me out?” You ask, despite knowing the answer. Part of you wants to hear her say it, though, wants to hear the admission of being a bad person. Then again, maybe she was the good guy, you thought, after remembering the blurry image of that guard, lay still on the roof above where you stood.

Tess tilted her head, “Pretty much.”

“Well, fine. Be my guest. As much as I would love to comply with your blackmail, I couldn’t tell you. Don’t have a fucking clue what happened up there. I’d say try asking him, but…” You snarked in response, another bare of your teeth, another raising of your hackles. Tess was looking more frustrated by the moment, if the slight twitch of the skin of her brows said anything. She held herself together pretty well. If it weren’t for the stark difference between times like now and the times of blacked out memories, blurred images, you likely wouldn’t have even noticed. But it was like everything was so clear when you actually looked, and you noticed details that most people wouldn’t.

“Joel,” Tess sighed out, and even the cadence of her voice revealed the annoyance that was growing within her. “Help me out, here?” She asked, because despite every front that the man put up, he was still better with kids than she was. There was something about him, an authority, she wondered, that just made people fess up.

You looked over to the man, to Joel, to see his eyes looking at you with more recognition by the second, a pull to the frown on his lips that suggested he knew something that you didn’t. You weren’t a fan of the look.

He gritted his teeth at the whole situation, his chest aching with familiarity. Joel knew, probably better than anyone, that look in your eye. “I believe her,” Joel answered Tess, hesitantly, rolling his eyes when the two of you immediately looked at him with dumbfounded expressions. “Look, Tess is right. You’re better off sticking ‘round here ‘til curfew drops.” He told you then, his voice gruff as he leaned to look out of the window, seeing the light outside growing brighter each passing minute.

You huffed, but crossed your arms in defeat, shoulders slouching where you stood.

“But remember, you owe us.” Tess said scathingly, a crease running along her forehead before she turned away, heading down the hallway. She pretended that she didn’t hear the way you scoffed at her words.

You and Joel stood opposite each other, the room tense. He cleared his throat, uncrossing his arms so the two of you didn’t mirror each other quite so accurately, and he turned to grab his own glass of booze. “So, uh, you go to school? FEDRA?” He asked, talking over the sound of liquid being poured into his glass.

“Yeah.” You responded lamely, tapping a foot against the floorboards of their apartment, avoiding looking at the man.

“You know the guy, then?” He questioned, eyebrows raised as he turned back around to look at you.

The look you gave him was scathing, but you gritted your teeth and responded anyway, seeing no other choice. “I guess. Gives me— gave me a hard time for dumb things. Don’t know what happened last night, before you ask.” You said, correcting your words to the past tense, and your chest felt hauntingly empty, despite what you had done.

Joel shrugged at you, “Wasn’t goin’ to.” He responded, mouth set in a thin line before he took a long sip from his drink. “Get some rest, kid. Got an hour or so, yet.” He told you, seeing your exhaustion before you had even felt it, apparently.

You blinked at him, surprised. The idea was tempting, you could admit, but it didn’t feel like a good idea to go to sleep around two strangers. At any moment, they could have a change of heart. It was best to stay on guard, to be ready to run at a moment’s notice. That was the way you always played these type of things, and it worked out.

He drained his glass, shrugging at you when you didn’t move to head towards the sofa he had vaguely gestured at, and said, “Suit yourself.” Before he walked down the hallway, following Tess.

You waited there for more than a few minutes, so still, making sure you didn’t make a sound, waiting to hear when one of them would come back to keep an eye on you. You had never felt more confused when they didn’t.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Ever since then, the world seemed to blur around you even more. And despite getting out in the hold at school after getting caught trying to sneak back in, it didn’t deter you, and they didn’t seem to suspect you of anything. You had heard the whispers about the dead FEDRA guard, though.

You tried not to listen.

Instead, you spent even more of your time sneaking out, but allowed that haze to fall over you with even less of a fight each time you went out. It was easier, that way, to let the world fall away and leave you with memories smudged in blood, that you certainly didn’t remember acquiring. Nothing in them was clear, and the cycle of waking up covered in blood didn’t stop.

More often than not, though, it was beginning to be your own blood. Apparently, your hazed self had become terrible at picking the battles you fought, and you’d blinked back to reality more than once when sparring at school, the jolt of pain when somebody caught an injury bringing you back faster than anything else had.

When you blinked back into reality this time, however, it was with warm blood dripping down your face, a hand gripping onto your head and keeping it upright when it began to fall to one side. You didn’t expect to see a familiar face, that was for sure.

“Joel?” You asked, incredulous, your voice slurred as you spoke through blood in your teeth.

“Well, she’s alive.” He said, not to you, barely even acknowledging your questioning tone as he glanced behind him to somebody you couldn’t see. Tess, presumably. “What have you gotten yourself into this time, kid?” He grumbled, voice gruff as he looked over your head for injuries, a grimace on his face at the amount of blood dripping down your temple.

His hand left your head a moment later, and you just about caught the weight of it before your chin could hit your chest, leaning back and settling the crown of your head against what felt like a brick wall.

A hand against your shoulder caught your attention when your eyes had been drifting closed, without you knowing they had even begun to do so, and you blinked them back open. “Jesus, how many times are we gonna have to save your ass?” Tess asked rhetorically, a grimace that matched Joel’s on her face as she looked at the state of you.

“‘M fine.” You grumbled, moving to try and push her hand away but only pulling your hand back with a hiss at the sudden throbbing pain that bloomed in your fingers.

Tess smiled sarcastically, “Yeah, sure you are. Those are broken, by the way.” She said, nodding down to the fingers on your hand which were bloodied and bruised, swollen and now so painful you had to grind your teeth together. Your knuckles were split, and you looked around, seeing no sign of a body, but you couldn’t help wondering what the other guy must look like.

You didn’t say anything else to her, just focusing on keeping your eyes open and attempting to remember whatever had happened to lead you to such a state. Nothing came up.

Even when Joel lifted your arm, hand gripping your wrist tightly as he pulled your elbow around his neck until he was holding most of your weight. He stumbled slightly when you did, and let out a gruff comment about you handling some of your own weight.

You did your best, but he ended up practically carrying you all the way back to their apartment, which was a couple of blocks. You vaguely wondered how they had even come across you, but figured you were in no place to ask questions.

“Remember what happened this time?” Tess asked, opening the door to their shared apartment so Joel could pull you through it, his arms straining to keep you upright. It was a much harder task when you were conscious but barely in control of your own limbs. He had thought about carrying you, but decided that was much too strange.

You shook your head, but realised she was facing away from you, and you hoped Joel hadn’t noticed your mistake. “Not a fucking clue.” You slurred out, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth as it tried to spell out the words.

Joel huffed out a breath through his nose as he set you down against their couch, his shoulders slouching as he finally relaxed his muscles, feeling a distant ache in his arm from being so tensed. He went down the hallway a second later, disappearing from your view.

“You are one lucky kid.” Tess drawled, the scene so familiar to the first time you met the two of them, as she held a glass of alcohol loosely in her hand. Distantly, you wondered if they had a glass every day, and if that meant they had shitloads of the stuff stored away somewhere, but decided you probably shouldn’t be thinking about it.

You scoffed, brows furrowed in aggravation despite the fact they had probably saved your lives. “Yeah, lucky. Sure.” You said, likely the clearest you had been able to speak since you’d woken up. Or become aware. You weren’t really sure which was more accurate.

Tess smiled, a sarcastic one that was full of humour and annoyance, “Oh, you don’t think so? Should we think about what could’ve happened if somebody else had found you there?” She asked, eyebrows raised, and you grit your teeth to stay silent.

You, better than anyone, knew what could’ve happened. You knew what people in this QZ — hell, in this world, — were capable of. So maybe you were lucky that Joel and Tess had found you, considering that they hadn’t ratted you in to FEDRA just yet, but you knew that the one thing this world would never generate is trust. They could be just as bad, or worse, as anyone else who might have discovered you there, bloody, injured, and completely unaware.

After all, you were at their apartment, with no idea why.

“She knows, Tess,” Joel grumbled, reappearing from the hallway and looking just as unhappy as ever. He sighed, drawn out and heavier than you had expected, and held up a wet cloth. “Come on, kid, get yourself cleaned up.” He handed it over to you, and ushered Tess to follow him back down the hallway, where they spoke in harshly whispered voices.

You wiped the side of your face, getting rid of the sticky blood that was coming from the side of your head. It was kind of difficult to do with no mirror, but you wiped as much of it off as you could get to before you stopped, breathing through the pain in your head, your fingers, the left side of your chest. You grimaced as you tried to wipe blood away from your split knuckles, your broken fingers. It hurt, and it was too real of a pain.

You paused when you heard Tess’s voice raise, “She’s going to get us caught, or killed, Joel!” She said, before her tone lowered once more, further discussion happening between them. You wondered what they could be talking about — they held no obligation to pick you up off of the streets. They didn’t owe you anything. As far as you were concerned, you didn’t owe them anything, either. Everything they had done was of their own volition, meaning you hadn’t forced them into anything.

For whatever reason, they felt the need to help you. You couldn’t pretend to understand it, but you did know that this couch was much more comfortable than the stones of whatever street you had been lay on were.

Joel came down the hall soon enough, a crease between his brows, and he grunted when he saw the poor job you had done of cleaning yourself up. “Get to the bathroom, kid. We’ll patch you up there.”

“Why?” You asked, before you could help yourself. They didn’t need to be doing this, so why were they? Tess was right, you were only a danger to whatever operation they had going on, so why?

“It’s either that or you carry on bleeding out on our couch.” Tess called out, rustling through something as soon as she emerged from the hallway, busying herself in drawers and cupboards.

You figured it’d be in your best interest to not bleed out on their couch.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Weirdly, it was the fourth time you ran into Joel and Tess that everything seemed to fall into place. Except this time, it was you doing just that, running into them. Or more accurately, him.

You had hit against shoulders in your fast pace, sending various people tumbling backwards or stepping out of your path. Helpful for you, yes, but also helpful for the group chasing you. You tried not to look back, but the footsteps chasing you were growing louder and you had to know how close they were.

One look over your shoulder led to you colliding with somebody, and you cursed as it sent you spilling to the floor at their side. With a scathing glare on your face, your heart going a mile a minute, you looked up to see none other than Joel fucking Miller.

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.” Joel murmured, eyes wide as he looked to where you had fallen after running into him. The alarm in your eyes made him move to face where you were looking, and there were three of Robert’s goons. He noticed, quickly, the knife that one of them was holding.

Without a second thought, he stepped between you and the group approaching, his hands clenching into fists as he grit his teeth. He wasn’t good at negotiating, at talking — that was more of Tess’s side of the deal. If it came to it, though, he could take on these fools. And he could play it off as if he was defending himself from the knife they were carrying, if need be.

They sputtered to a stop in front of him, a wary look exchanged between the two men, as the woman behind glared daggers at him. “Come on, Miller, move outta the way.” The man holding the knife said, tilting his head to one side as if that was going to make Joel listen to his directions.

Joel’s eyebrows set lower on his face as he looked back to you, with your wide eyes, and the way you scrambled up to stand just behind him. He huffed, a tired sigh leaving him, and turned back to the goons.

“Not happening.”

The three of them scoffed, incredulous, and the woman stepped forward with a sneer on her face. “What? You some kinda saviour now, Miller? Gonna start defending all the helpless little girls?” She said, voice venomous, but she stepped back when Joel went to move forward.

You, however, were not having that.

“Helpless?” You questioned, a scathing heat burning its way down your throat, “I’d like to see you go and ask your boss how helpless I am.”

Joel’s hand blocking your path stopped you from stepping towards the woman, your teeth bared at her, but you remained behind the man. You may not like listening to him, but he seemed to know what he was doing far more than you did.

“You bitch,” The final man said, no weapon held in his hand, but there was something dark about him that even Joel could see. Joel pushed against you, putting you further behind him as the man stepped forward. “When I—”

Joel’s eyes darkened considerably, and he knew from the expressions on the group’s faces that they had seen his face harden. “When you what?” He asked, looking down at the group before him, something violent in his words, as if daring the man to finish his sentence, to say something that Joel didn’t like, to give him the excuse.

“Can’t you just mind your own goddamn business, Miller?” The one with the knife asked, his lips drawn back in what was almost a snarl as he tried to catch a good look at you from around Joel’s shoulder.

“This is my goddamn business. Now run yourselves back to Robert before this gets out of hand.” Joel said, the threat in his words clear despite him having said nothing particularly violent. It was explicit in his tone, apparently. His gruff words were somewhat of a comfort to you, though, a slight relief that you could stop running, for now. You were also hoping that this meant your messed up shoulder would be your only injury of the day.

“Are you having a fucking laugh?” The woman asked, incredulous, as she stared at where Joel stood tall in front of you.

“Do I look like I’m laughing?” Joel asked, being met with nothing but deadly silence. You peeked around his arm to see the three of them looking like fools in front of him, their cocky, entitled attitudes falling apart under the weight of his words. The three of them shared a glance, gritted teeth and angered glares, and looked to Joel with a more than annoyed expression.

The man with no weapon caught sight of you looking around Joel, and pointed his hand at you, “Just you fucking wait.” He threatened, putting his hand down when Joel’s shoulders straightened, his legs moving to take a step towards the man, who quickly backed away alongside his two companions. They left without another word, throwing angry looks over their shoulders until they disappeared out of sight, at which point Joel turned to you.

“How is it that I always find myself savin’ your ass?” Joel asked, mostly to himself, as he looked at where you stood, a hand holding your other and close to your chest. He sighed, heavily, “You hurt?”

“I’ve been worse.” You admitted, though Joel knew better than anyone. He could see on your face that the swelling from around your black eye hadn’t long faded to almost normal, he could see the stitched cut along the back of your forearm, could see the way you winced as you attempted to shrug, give up halfway.

Joel nodded, studying you for a moment, his eyes drawn to the way your clothes had been ripped after your fall to the ground. He frowned. It was getting colder as the days went on, and he was already sceptical about the lack of layers you wore. He huffed out another sigh, a frown pinched between his eyebrows, and looked back down the street to ensure the goons hadn’t decided to come back. When the coast was clear, he turned back to you where you stood almost nervously, and he realised this was the first time he had seen you out during the day time. Every other time he had discovered you it had been the midst of the night.

“C’mon, let’s get back.” He murmured, keeping the mean look on his face in case anybody else came after you. For once, you didn’t say anything, just following along at Joel’s side, wincing every time you moved your arm.

“I remember what happened this time,” You offered, when the two of you finally reached Joel and Tess’s shared apartment, with you taking your seat on their couch with a half-repressed sigh. Your feet were aching, and your shoulder was killing, but at least you could rest here for a while.

Joel looked up from his rummaging at that, surprised by not only what you said, but the fact that you had said it at all. Each time, one of them prompted you for information, and you never remembered. Or you weren’t willing to share the small details you did recall. It was strange for you to offer such information to him. “Yeah?” He prompted absently, continuing to look through drawers after his slight pause.

“Yeah,” You answered as you raised an eyebrow at his actions, wondering what he could be searching for. Before you could lose your nerve, you continued, “Got into some stupid business with some guy called Robert, and then he tried to rip me off. I got kicked outta school trying to get what he needed, too.” You scoffed as you spoke, paying less attention to Joel’s reaction and focusing more on your annoyance at the whole situation. “I just… got angry, started hittin’ the guy. Then ran away, and they started chasing me.”

“What were you goin’ into business with him for?” Joel asked after you had finished, his eyebrows creased together. Robert had a way of getting to old world stuff, but everyone knew he was dodgy. Often times, it was double-sold, or broken. He was a scammer, and that was coming from Joel, who had upped prices to ridiculous amounts on the shit he and Tess smuggled in, per her order, of course.

You huffed, “I dunno, just wanted something. Doesn’t matter, anyway. He didn’t have it.”

“Well, you tell me what it is and I’ll see what I can do.” Joel offered, unsure as to why. He hated himself for doing this, for letting you in, for feeling some inexplicable reason to help you each time you were hurt. He couldn’t understand it. Perhaps, he could say you reminded him of someone who’s name he refused to speak, but that wasn’t right. You shared very few similarities with her, in fact, Joel would argue that you looked more like him. That lost look in your eyes, the blurred vision you saw through when he found you covered in blood, the memories lost to bloodshed… it was like looking in a mirror.

He felt some sort of responsibility towards you — as if helping you could heal his own wounds. Joel figured he should’ve known by now that something like that would never work.

Perhaps, he just wished that someone could’ve pulled him out of that state, when he was in it. He couldn’t say your reasons for being like this, hell, it could just be a product of the apocalyptic world you lived in, but he figured that one day, you’d grow to be like him. And god, he was hoping that you could avoid it. So if him helping you could do that, could steer your path away from seeing him in your reflection, he’d do it.

“I said it didn’t matter.” You responded, snappily. Clearly whatever you had been after was personal, held close to your chest. He couldn’t blame you for not wanting to reveal it.

Joel said nothing for a moment, but looked at you from where he stood across the room. “You got kicked outta school?” He asked, instead of pressing the subject. He saw a weight lift off of your shoulder at the change in topic.

“Yeah, got caught sneaking out too many times. Said I must have some place else to go, and that I’m old enough to know what the fuck I’m doing.” You said, rolling your eyes at the memory. You weren’t all too bothered about it. Learning about the world through a government’s perception wasn’t all that mind blowing, and you hated drills. You didn’t want to be a FEDRA soldier. So, in reality, it was quite the gift.

You had to think that way, too stubborn to remember how your father had always talked about you going to those kind of schools, about you getting an education that was more than him just pointing out words and teaching you basic math. He had never quite understood that you learned more from him than you would from anybody else.

Joel’s eyebrows pinched, a look that was almost concern shining through his eyes. “You’re just a kid.” He said, having no reaction to the way you glared at him.

“I can take care of myself.” You told him, firmly, trying your best not to think about how many times he and Tess had pulled you out of shit, likely saving your life. It didn’t matter. At the end of the day, all you had was yourself.

“Where are you staying?” He asked, eyebrows raised at you, as if he was proving his point by asking it, especially when you didn’t answer immediately. All orphans went to FEDRA school, until they were old enough to get sent to a position as a guard or they were kicked back out to the street. He knew you weren’t old enough to be put in that position just yet. After all, FEDRA didn’t allocate housing to people of your age.

You looked to your hand in your lap, picking at the blood still stuck underneath your nails. “Not important.”

“No?” Joel asked, just a hint away from mockingly. You furrowed your brows at him, a frown pulling at your lips in defence.

“No.” You answered.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

You think now, that you would have never been in this situation if you hadn’t accepted Joel’s insistence that you stay with him and Tess. It had gotten to a point of normalcy, something so close to domestic that it had you sneaking out of their apartment, up the fire escape back to the roof where it all began to unravel, all those nights ago.

The stain of blood on the ground is still there, and you had been staring at it long enough that you were starting to miss where it began and ended. You still couldn’t pull the memories from that night from your skull, and you were starting to think they weren’t in there at all.

It had all led you to here, to where you sat, legs swinging over the edge of the air-conditioning unit on the roof of the building. Or at least, that’s what Joel told you these things were. You frowned at the memory.

You hated the way you had let all of this happen, had let yourself get closer to the people who seemed to always be there. They were more present in your life than any other figure, even before you moved in with them. It had seemed as if you only woke up from your haze when they pulled you out of it. You couldn’t begin to understand why, and honestly, you didn’t really want to.

All you knew was that this was exhausting. You had been present for the longest time you could remember since before your father had… well, since before everything changed. And it was all because there was a ball of anxiety in your chest, hammering loudly within the beat of your heart.

Maybe it was selfish, or foolish, maybe it was both, to feel so dejected over something that should be good. But it was all feeling too familial for your liking, and it was like a constant waiting game, constantly wondering when the other shoe would drop. There had to be some sort of catch, something would surely go wrong, because life with Joel and Tess was becoming too comfortable. You should’ve been happy for it. Perhaps any other kid your age would have been, but all you could think of was the time before Boston.

Images of a house, a father who cared about you, who bought you paints and brushes even when that would have been better spent on new boots for himself. You could remember the way the sole had been peeling away when you had last seen him, remember the way he had yelled at you, begged you to leave him behind.

Sure, you had listened, had walked away from him slumped against the wall of a decrepit convenience store, but you had never truly left him behind. All the times you had spent in Boston, in a subconscious state, there had been no more memories. Before Tess and Joel, the most vivid thing you could recall was your dad.

If you closed your eyes, shut out the image of the blood staining concrete, and focused hard enough, you could hear his laugh. Reluctant laughter was something you had often drawn out of him, because he found the only joy he had left in the world within you. But there was always that nagging worry, at the very back of his mind, reminding him that things weren’t okay.

Hell, the whole reason he had insisted upon leaving the house where you had spent most of your life was because he believed you would be safer in Boston, in a QZ rather than a small community with not enough firepower to cope with any hordes.

He’d been a firm man, with a furrow between his brows that you could now see in Joel’s face, and you hated it. Your dad had given up everything for you. Why were you seeing similarities between him and Joel?

“Come on, it’s time to get going!” Tess called to you, dragging you from where you were trying to conjure up an image of your dad that wasn’t his last moments. You huffed, pushing off of the air conditioning unit, and headed down the fire escape, taking your backpack from Tess where she held it out to you.

It hadn’t been your choice to go along with Joel and Tess, more of an order, given that they didn’t want to leave you alone at their apartment. They were running low on ration cards, not enough for you to survive alone, especially if anything went wrong. That was the whole purpose of their trip, they had told you, to get something they could trade for more cards. The two of them hadn’t explained to you the radio and music catalogue that sat in their apartment, but you had figured out that it must’ve been some sort of communication system. If you were going to go off of the way Joel’s head had snapped up when some song you didn’t recognise came on.

The three of you were setting off the next day, so it must’ve meant something to them.

Joel had said something about you being in for some kind of treat, assuring you that the trip would be worth it, despite the way you remained unconvinced. You didn't want to leave the QZ again, but part of you, that stupid childish part, was curious.

So you followed them.

You were quiet most of the trip, despite Joel trying to encourage conversation with you, a crease of concern to his face the more checked out you became.

In your own defence, you seemed to be on guard well enough when you retreated to that state where it wasn’t really you, and the whole trip was too familiar. If you didn’t focus hard enough on your surroundings, you would wake up and be with your father again, or you’d lack attention and hear that gunshot as you walked away.

It was easier this way. Safer.

You also didn’t expect for Joel or Tess to notice anything different, but then you were blinking back into reality some time later, though you couldn’t tell how much. Joel’s face was in front of your own, his eyebrows furrowed, expression angrier than you had seen it in a while.

Looking around the area, over Joel’s shoulder, you saw a burning building some ways behind him, and your eyebrows raised in surprise. “What happened there?” You asked, your throat sore as you said it, your chest aching, and you were more confused than anything else at the sensation.

“What were you thinking?” Joel seethed, seemingly becoming angrier at your question, and you tried not to pay the emotion any mind. You looked around again, squinting your eyes and catching sight of Tess stood before the building, her gun raised to the doorway as if expecting something to come out of the blaze. “Huh?” He questioned, drawing your attention back.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, getting more confused by the second. You looked down to where your fingers were apparently covered in soot, and slowly connected that with the burning building across the way. “Wait, did I—”

“You can’t check out like that! You’re gonna get yourself killed.” Joel said, and you felt his hand squeeze your shoulder far more gently than the way he was speaking. He seemed… frantic, almost. You frowned, because nobody had ever really noticed you blanking out before, or at least, nobody had ever said anything to you about it.

Your awareness came back to you fully then, and you could feel the heat from the fire even all the way over here, so you couldn’t imagine the heat Tess was feeling. With a huffed breath, you pulled yourself to your feet, shrugging Joel’s hand off when he tried to help you as you stumbled slightly. Your bag felt lighter than it had before, but at least you still had it.

Joel grumbled, his hard expression unchanging as he turned away from you to go and grab Tess, nodding at you to follow them as you hurried away from the burning building, blinking as you tried to remember what had happened.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Arriving at Bill and Frank’s compound was… overwhelming. Which was probably the biggest understatement ever.

Tess and Joel didn’t think it pertinent to tell you where you were headed before leaving Boston, and you weren’t all that well versed in where smugglers got their items to smuggle. You figured it would be some run down place, that was mostly untouched by the outbreak.

You didn’t expect this.

Initially, it reminded you of the small community you had lived in with your father, all that time ago. Though this place was guarded much better, with that electric fence that Joel warned you away from. The houses looked good, and there was one down the street, with a wide porch and old kids toys piled in the garden, which made your heart clench.

You wanted to retreat back into yourself, to hide in that haze, to let the blanket of emptiness cover you, but then Frank was emerging from the doorway of their house, his grip tight on a walking stick, but his smile was wide. He was tailed by Bill, whose hands hovered hesitantly as he followed Frank.

“Tess! Joel!” Frank called, and held his arms out for Tess when she approached, sharing a hug like they were family. You were pretty sure that they were just friends, had no connection before the outbreak. It was strange, really, to think of hugging someone that wasn’t a relation. Or perhaps it was the caring part of it that had your brows creased. “And who’s this?” He asked, smiling at you.

With a nod from Joel, you introduced yourself to the man, trying not to shrink into yourself at his cheerful demeanour, and the suspicious glances of Bill from beside him.

“Bill, it’s fine,” Frank sighed, a roll of his eyes as he turned to the man. “Go get started on dinner! We’re going to sit out here, while the weather is nice.”

Bill grumbled, eyes darting between the three of you and the man he loved, but he turned with a resigned sigh. Frank grinned, a fond look on his face.

Tess busied herself setting the table, ignoring the way Frank scolded her for doing his job, only shooting him an exasperated smile. After a moment, Frank realised there were only four chairs set around the small garden table.

“Oh, I think there’s another in my art room.” He said, as he looked between you and the four chairs.

Unable to help yourself, “You have an art room?” You asked, which was probably the most you had spoken for the past few days. You ignored the way Joel seemed to perk up at your words, a glance going between him and Tess.

Frank smiled. He seemed to do a lot of that. “You wanna have a look?” He asked kindly, nodding his head and starting towards the house.

“Go on.” Joel encouraged with his monotone murmur. You hesitantly followed Frank into the house.

You didn’t look around much, instead opting to focus on keeping close to the man in front of you. If you looked to closely, you think you might see similarities to the home you had with your dad, and after already shutting down once on this journey, you figured that Joel wouldn’t be too pleased if you did it again.

It was wracking your nerves, the closer you got to Frank’s art room. You wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, not even your father, had he been here, but you were scared. You had gotten so good at removing yourself from a multitude of situations, but the concept of art had you grounded in place no matter how much you might have wanted to fade back into your mind. You can remember nights spent staying up late, dipping brushes in colours that resembled the world around you almost too accurately. The gentle swipe of paint across paper, canvas, walls, wood — whatever your father could give you, at the time.

It was the best thing you had.

You realise, now, that you had been escaping from the world for your whole life. Only back then, it had been to nicer lands, beauty put down on different mediums so you could physically touch it, could know it was true, it was real. The only thing that had changed was your method of escaping, really. Where you had once clambered for colours and depictions of the world in a different light, you now escaped to the very depths of your mind, hidden deep under sadness and fear and loneliness. Somewhere that you couldn’t be disturbed, wouldn’t have to think about the world and what it had taken from you.

You’re scared of wanting that old method of escape back.

When you enter the art room, you know your fear is valid. You know that the longing you have for paints and pencils and whatever supplies your father could get his hands on was back, or perhaps it was just the longing for your father returning full force from where you had buried it. Whatever it might have been, it was overwhelming.

It made everything feel like it meant more. Like the careful brushes of meticulously selected colours on white canvases was personal to you.

Frank’s art was covering the entire room, a stack of empty canvases in one corner, dwarfed by the amount of wooden frames that had sketched or painted pictures stretched over them. It was bright in here, the colours seemingly glowing from the light that was shining through the large windows, looking out on parts of the garden.

“This one isn’t finished,” Frank said, his voice quiet, and you looked to where you had forgotten he was standing. He leant heavily on his walking stick, gesturing with his free hand toward a canvas stood upon an easel — the first easel you had seen. When your dad first encouraged your interest in art, he had told you all about what his time in art class at school had been like. He’d told you about the easels, the shitty school paints — which were heavenly compared to what yours had been like — and his own art teacher. But easels weren’t the most common thing, and so you had never used one.

The painting that stood upon the strange-looking three legged stand looked like the beginnings of Bill’s face, blue eyes surrounded by carefully mixed colours to bring about the contours of the man’s skin. It was much better than anything you had ever painted.

“Have you ever painted?” Frank asked, after a few moments of hesitation. He’d lived in the apocalyptic world, too, but he hadn’t grown up in it. The man had more awareness than you expected, given his presence in such a protected home, but you supposed that if he knew Tess and Joel, it made sense that he would be sensitive of the world’s horrors.

You looked at the paintbrushes set out to dry beside an open window, and quickly drew your gaze away. “Yeah,” You responded, voice uncharacteristically gentle. You cleared your throat, annoyed at your own involuntary vulnerability. “My dad used to get paints, before I got to Boston.”

If Frank noticed your choice of pronoun ‘I’ and not ‘we’, he didn’t comment on it. He let your words settle for a moment, and you realised this was probably the most open you had been, the most you had spoken of your life before Boston. It was almost… sad. You think your dad would’ve loved Bill and Frank’s home, and the knowledge that nobody else would ever be able to consider what he would like was a painful admission.

“Well, I’m sure you could take some back with you.” Frank offered, a gentle smile on his face. He seemed to know more than he let on, even when your words were limited and he didn’t know you, hadn’t even met you before today.

You tried to brush your discomfort away, tried to unwind the stiffness to your shoulders. “That’s okay.” You said, fiddling with a button on your jacket as you took one more glance around the room, an uncomfortable tightening in your throat. “We’d better get back.” You prompted, walking to the chair in front of the easel and picking it up, gesturing for Frank to lead the way back to the garden.

“You alright?” Joel asked quietly as you set the chair down by his side, taking a seat in it a moment after as Frank and Tess began chatting away.

“I’m fine.” You snapped.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

It was on the way back from Bill and Frank’s that everything seemed to go wrong. For this portion of the journey, you made sure to cling on to every slither of awareness you had, digging your claws into consciousness and not letting go. You wouldn’t admit it, but the whole situation on the way there had shaken you.

You supposed it was different to the way blanking out in the QZ had been. After all, there was a certain amount of control in the QZ, much less of a wild factor than there was in the outside world. You could anticipate everything that you might come into contact with at the QZ, and each time, nothing was scary enough for you to even consider holding on to consciousness. Out in the real world, that was very different.

Despite travelling in it to the Quarantine Zone, there wasn’t a whole lot of that you could remember after the incident with your father. Everything was unpredictable, out here, and you were foolish to forget that. Especially after what it cost you the first time.

There may have been something else, though, something that had your fingers grasping onto reality so tightly you didn’t think you would ever let go. And that was the fact that it wasn’t just yourself that you were putting in danger, anymore, but Tess and Joel, too. And would you ever be able to forgive yourself if you came to awareness, just to see their blood on your hands? To find their bodies lay still? To be at fault once again for killing the only people left in the world that would see you safe? You could pretty confidently say no, you would never be able to forgive such a thing.

Even with your best attempts to cling on to your own awareness, it was clear that Joel and Tess didn’t quite trust your efforts. Given the fact that they refused to let you take a watch when night fell early, stopping to wait the darkness out just over halfway back to the Zone. Tess had already taken first watch, shaking Joel awake despite your offer to watch the area for him, so it was just you and Joel, Tess’s breaths long-since evened out.

“You can get some rest, y’know.” Joel said, his voice low to avoid waking Tess. You were well aware that she was a light sleeper, though you couldn’t blame her. It was the apocalypse, after all. Besides, it wasn’t like you were able to catch much sleep, too hyper focused on staying present to drift even into slumber, fearing you wouldn’t become conscious afterwards, fearing you would just wake.

“‘M fine, Joel.” You grumbled in response, eyes flitting around the rustling grass surrounding you, as if something was going to jump out at any moment.

Joel huffed, something between exasperation and vague amusement in it, and shook his head. “Sure, you are, kid.” He responded, adjusting his grip on the gun and resigning himself to the fact that you were going to stay up, no matter what he said. “Not gonna let anythin’ hurt you, you do know that, right?” He asked, after a long pause, and ignored the unpleasant way your face twisted.

“Why do you two help me? I don’t get it. Not done anything to help you, so why?” You questioned, instead of answering his question, too desperate to know to avoid the opening in the conversation. Joel sighed, a roll of his eyes, a deflection, as always.

“So impossible to believe that we could just be good people?” Joel replied, after your expectant silence lingered on uncomfortably. He shuffled, pausing when Tess moved, but only turned in her sleep.

You huffed, and Joel tried to ignore the way he was sure it sounded just like him. “Yes, it is impossible to believe that. You found me after I…” You paused, unsure how to go about admitting something you didn’t even remember. “After that FEDRA guard. Good people wouldn’t help me, after seeing that.”

“Been in your shoes, kid.” Joel said, at last, and you furrowed your brows at his answer. And the nickname he had taken to calling you. Joel didn’t exactly want to talk about it, both for the unpleasantness he had experienced and the worry that you’d retreat if he was honest. He could barely even explain the why to himself, so he had no idea how he could formulate it into words to tell you. “Not a good place to be, even worse if you’re alone.” He admitted, though he hadn’t been alone for as long as he could remember. There had always been Tommy, and after Tommy there was Sarah, and then his brother returned, but even then — he had Tess. But despite all that company, Joel knew exactly how it felt to be isolated, to be alone in your situation, to feel no other option than to retreat into yourself to get through the day.

He wouldn’t wish it upon anyone, let alone you.

You wanted to deny it, to tell Joel that you weren’t alone. That you already had a family you loved, that you already had a dad who cared about you, but what could you say? The truth was, he was gone.

“Get some sleep.” Joel said, dismissing the conversation before you could figure out anything to say. You just frowned at him, staring at him like his expression held all the answers, but as always, Joel revealed nothing. No reasoning, no answers, nothing. Finally, you turned away from him, resting your head against your backpack, eyes remaining open so you could keep an eye on the forest ahead of you for the last few hours of the night.

When the light finally a swept the last of the darkness away, the three of you set off again. Now, you were at the final stretch of your journey — so close to the QZ you could almost smell the pungent scent of fire and unrest. You never thought you’d be glad to see the decimated land around the Boston zone, but here you were, five steps ahead of Tess and Joel, who shared secret glances, communicating in a language you couldn’t understand.

They joined your side when you paused, waiting for them, just along the edge of where FEDRA usually patrolled. You looked to the two adults expectantly, not sure where you’d be entering the Zone, and figuring you must’ve been out of it if they had ever actually told you that part.

Now this, this was where it all went downhill.

“On your knees.” A voice from behind the three of you said, and you recognised the sound of a familiar FEDRA officer, from your time spent as a trainee. You just hoped he wouldn’t remember you. “I said, get on your knees!” He repeated, when the three of you had hesitated a moment too long, stepping forward and jabbing the end of his gun into the back of your knee. You grit your teeth as your knees buckled from the hit, dropping to the ground with your hands raised. You watched Joel and Tess follow when the guard moved towards them. Joel’s jaw was clenched.

“We’re just lookin’ to get to the QZ, man, that’s all.” Tess said, keeping her hands in the air and her head tilted as she tried to negotiate, as usual.

“Just a precaution, ma’am.” The guard responded, a snark to his voice. Despite what he said, when you first arrived to the QZ, there was no precautions this far out. In fact, it was only when you stalked towards the gate that guns were trained on you, your wrists bound until they got you through the main gate to test you.

He was patting down Tess, and you would’ve sworn you could hear Joel grinding his teeth together, clenching his jaw shut so tightly you wouldn’t have been surprised if it had broken. Meanwhile, you focused on trying to remember the name of the guard, trying to recall his temperament, whether he was easily swayed. You blinked your eyes shut, trying to see through the haze that clouded your memories as the guy moved on to Joel, but without seeing the guy’s face, it was too difficult.

“What kinda QZ has precautions this far out?” Joel grumbled as the guard moved along, checking the distance towards the gate with squinted eyes, and trying his best not to clench his fists as the guard moved towards you.

“You born yesterday, man? World’s fucked.” The guard answered, stepping away from you and moving to go around to see the front of the three of you. “Well, I never.” He chuckled, catching sight of your face as it fell, finally putting the voice to the face as you looked at him. “Don’t recall seeing your name on the exist list, trainee.” FEDRA had a bunch of awful guards, but this guy… Jerry, you were pretty fucking sure, was amongst the worst of them.

“Not a trainee, anymore.” You bit out in response, practically feeling the two adults beside you tensing up at the FEDRA guard’s recognition of you. “You even know my name, Jerry?” You asked, tilting your head upwards with your best reinvention of the careless expression that used to rile the man up so much.

He smiled, a grin full of rotten teeth and breath that stung your eyes as he leaned towards you. You resisted the urge to throw up over his shoes as he said your name, proving your hopeful taunt incorrect.

“Alright, now, no need for trouble.” Joel said placatingly, trying to keep the grimace off of his face in exchange for a more… reasonable expression. “We ain’t Infected, just a couple of folks tryin’ to be on their way.”

“Shut your mouth, and mind your business, fella.” Jerry spat towards Joel, before he looked back to you, a grin on that ugly face. “I’ve been trying to get the dirt to have you hung for months, now. Unauthorised exit? Well, that ought’a do it.” He said, morbid amusement dancing across his face. You just bared your teeth at him, a sarcastic expression donning your features.

“Careful, Jerry. You’re soundin’ awfully obsessed. Didn’t they out you for that, once already?” You asked, sarcastically, recalling the way he had been shamed outright by a higher up for getting on the trainee’s cases too much. FEDRA was strict already, so if he was getting publicly scolded for his obsessive behaviour, you figured it must’ve been bad.

You saw the way Joel was tensed up out of the corner of your eye, but didn’t dare turn to look at him, or even attempt to see how Tess was fairing.

It was when Jerry reared back, his rotten teeth bared, a sneer pulling at his features, that you saw Joel move. He’d noticed a second before you did, the way that the FEDRA guard was reaching for his smaller weapon, his handgun, barely getting it out of the holster before Joel was launching up and forwards, pushing Jerry and falling alongside him as they rolled down the slight slope to go towards the QZ gate.

“Joel!” Tess yelled out, a curse falling from her lips as she grabbed the stuff that Jerry had been attempting to confiscate before realising who you were. She dug through her bag, looking for her own gun, too risky to have it on her person this close to the QZ for this goddamn reason. You glanced between her searching frantically and the duo fighting slightly below you, before you caught a glint of metal in one of their hands. Did Joel have a knife? Did he have a knife, or was that Jerry’s? Was Jerry about to fucking stab Joel, who had tackled him to protect you?

You stumbled down the slight decline after the two of them, just as Jerry was catching the upper hand, something red trickling down his sleeve. You pulled the very gun he had tried to pull on you from its holster at his side, before he could even react to you having moved from where you were. He was slow, this guy, but that didn’t mean he was incapable. He was freakishly strong, and he bared bloody teeth at you as he moved to swing the blade in his hands down.

A crack interrupted his movements, blood dancing a crimson path down the side of his forehead.

Jerry’s body slumped backwards, falling away from where he had been about to fucking kill Joel Miller, all for what? His helmet made a dull thunk against the ground as it connected, and Joel was groaning, shoving the deadweight off of him with a bit of a struggle.

“The fuck were you thinking?” Tess asked, grasping onto Joel’s shoulders to help him up, only for him to hiss and pull away, and you vaguely saw Tess’s hand covered in a sticky sheen of blood that had leaked through the material of Joel’s jacket. “Jesus, Joel, you could’ve gotten yourself killed.” She scolded, pulling the jacket away and unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt to look at the wound. She dug through her bag to pull a few rags out of it, pressing the material against the fucking stab wound, and waiting for Joel’s steady hand to take over before she moved away. “Come on, we can’t wait around. If they’re patrolling this far out, something must’ve gone down, and I doubt anyone’s far enough to have not heard that.” She said, nodding pointedly towards the gun gripped tightly in your fingers.

At her reminder, you shivered, taking the knife from Jerry’s limp hand and replacing it with the gun. You wiped the blood — Joel’s blood — off of the blade onto the side of your jacket, before shoving it back in its place on Jerry’s vest, which you hadn’t even realised was there. You wondered if Joel knew, before he decided to attack him.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

You blinked, and realised you were already back at the apartment you stayed in with Joel and Tess.

Joel was sat at the table, med kit set out open in front of him, with Tess being nowhere in sight. He barely spared you a glance as you stood up from the sofa you didn’t remember sitting on, your brows furrowed as you looked around the room, as if the answers—the memories—you wanted would be revealed.

“She went to trade what we managed to get from Bill and Frank’s.” Joel told you, not even looking in your direction as he focused on fixing himself up. He had the rag in his hand once again, wiping at the blood still trickling from his wound. You wondered if Tess didn’t tell you where she was going, or if Joel just knew you weren’t present if she did.

You didn’t even know what had sent you back to the depths of your mind, this time. Was it shooting Jerry? Killing somebody whilst actually being fully responsible for your actions? Was it his threats about getting you hung? Or was it that very wound that Joel was tending to right now? The fact that once again, somebody got hurt, and it was your fault?

“Can you hand me the, uh…” Joel trailed off, gesturing over towards the counter where amber liquid sat in a glass bottle. You went over and grabbed it, placing it down on the table in front of Joel far harsher than you realised you were going to. You hadn’t quite noticed the way anger, or something defensive at least, had settled in your chest, stirring that brimming pot of guilt until it was almost flowing over the edges. “Thanks.” Joel said gruffly, splashing some of the booze onto the rag and pressing it to his shoulder.

You stared at him, waiting for him to say something, to explain himself, but he made no move to do so.

“What is wrong with you?” You said, finally, your voice loud and echoing around the barely furnished room, like it had burst from your chest, like you had no choice in the matter.

“Got stabbed, in case you didn’t notice.” Joel quipped, which seemed even further out of character for him. You vaguely wondered if you had just lost your mind, if this was all some made up scenario playing out in your head.

“Why did you attack him? He didn’t attack you, I—I don’t understand!” You told him, gritting your teeth when Joel just continued tending to his wound, not acknowledging your questioning. Part of you wished Tess was here so she could dismiss you before you could continue, but she was clearly nowhere nearby, given that she hadn’t burst into the room to stop any conflict. “Joel, answer me.”

He finally looked up, shaking his head. “What do you want me to say, huh? Somebody’s gotta protect you! Lord knows you don’t do it yourself! Rilin’ that guard up— it was reckless. He could’ve killed you, kid, and what would I have done then?” Joel questioned, his voice louder than your own, a booming thing that had you wanting to retreat. You refused, pushing it down in favour of the confrontation that you’d been putting off for months, by now.

“I can take care of myself.” You answered, spitting the words out like there was a semblance of truth to them. “I’m not your goddamn kid, Joel, there are plenty of other strays you could help out if I had died.” You continued, throwing the nickname back in his face, watching the way he recoiled, something unfamiliar flashing in his eyes.

“Now, you listen—”

He tried to say, only to be interrupted by you continuing on. “No! You’re not my dad, Joel! I already had a dad, okay? I had a dad, and he’s dead, and that’s on me. I won’t go through that again. You gotta stop puttin’ your life on the line for me!”

“Kid…” Joel trailed, the confession not exactly surprising him, but he felt a twinge in his chest nonetheless. He had figured all of this was catalysed by some kind of loss, just going by his own experience with the matter, but he had never known for sure. You were closed off — another way you were just so similar to him, and you’d never spoken about any family.

You closed your eyes, tears brimming in the edges, slipping down your face, and you wiped them away with a rough swipe of your sleeve against your skin. “You don’t understand. It was my fault. If it weren’t for me, he’d—… Every day I’ve been here, I’ve just been wishing we could’ve swapped places, wishing that he was here instead of me, because I can’t do this without my dad. But—But he could’ve, without me.”

“When my Sarah died,” Joel started, gritting his teeth against the pain in his chest that just her name brought. “I gave up. I—I lost any will to live, I prayed that it wasn’t real, prayed for God to switch our places, to trade her life for mine. Tried to end it, and when that failed, I got numb. Got lost in my head, ended up fightin’ anybody I crossed paths with, usin’ any excuse to hurt people, even while I was with Tess. Barely even remember it,” Joel continued, a strained laugh falling from his lips, his hand held to his chest in hopes of soothing some of the ache that originated there. “Just remember wakin’ up, covered in—in blood, not knowing who the hell I hurt. So, when I saw you, not even present in your own goddamn head, I figured that wherever you came from, whatever family you might’ve had, they wouldn’t want you ending up like me.”

That pot of guilt in your chest felt like it would explode, even as you blinked back tears, only getting harder the longer Joel spoke, the more he told you. You had never taken him for a religious man, but you supposed you could relate to that, that desperation to just save your family’s life.

“I’ve got too much blood on my hands, kid,” Joel told you, the words going past the literal sense of his own blood, spilled across his palms from that wound that you had caused. It was deeper than that, it was something you related to, like he knew that sensation of fresh blood that plagued you, like it was dripping over your hands all the time. “You gotta wipe yours clean.”

Clearly, that wound on his shoulder wasn’t his only open one. It was there, gaping in his chest, weeping waves of guilt and suffering that hit you with such familiarity. My Sarah. You couldn’t help but think about your dad, couldn’t help wondering if this was how he’d feel, if your places had of swapped.

“He was my dad,” You said desperately, like it could explain everything, like the simple statement could convey everything you couldn’t put into other words. That’s not something you can replace, something you can change, something you can forget. You opened your mouth to continue, but all that happened was the tears stinging your eyes fell, and you turned your head to the side, hoping Joel wouldn’t see the way your lip was trembling.

Joel’s arms were warm when he wrapped them around you, blood still tacky on his shirt where it pressed to your jacket, but you barely noticed it. “She was my daughter.” He said in response, and suddenly it made sense.

If anything about your relationship with Joel was true, it was that you were mirror images. Reflections. Two sides of the same coin, two sides of the same story, one that told of grief and loss and pain that would never go away. His response was the answer you didn’t even realise you had been waiting for. He was my dad, and she was my daughter. Not replacements, not something to try and fill the gaps. The acknowledgment was everything you needed to wrap your arms around Joel, to squeeze his shirt between your fists and cry, to cry for the dad that you lost, for the daughter he lost, for everything the two of you would never have again.

You weren’t Joel’s daughter, and he wasn’t your dad.

That much was true, and you knew it, because you had each other. And maybe, come morning, you would still leave the apartment like you had been considering doing all along, or maybe you would stay. Maybe, you’d let yourself have this, this little family made up of torn apart pieces, of members too damaged to fit just right, of a dad who lost his daughter, and a daughter who lost her dad.

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laughhardrunfastbekindsblog · 6 months ago

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If anyone has any experience/insight into how animation production timelines and rewrites/"reshoots" work, I'd LOVE your input...

Because here we are more than 3 weeks after the Bad Batch season 3 finale, and for the past 3 weeks I haven't been able to stop wondering if the initial plan WAS to bring Tech back by the end of season 3, but given the discourse after season 2 including loud complaints of "STAKES!" and "death is meaningless in Star Wars!" and "no one stays dead!" the higher ups vetoed that plan and some changes had to be made before season 3 aired.

I'm probably wrong. It's highly likely that the creatives told the story they were planning on telling and weren't influenced at all by public opinion. But I still can't stop thinking about it.

And the thing is, if the stories are influenced by fan opinion, I question the chances of Tech ever being brought back even though they really did leave plenty of leeway for it.

Anyone have any insight??

#the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #tbb spoilers #tbb season 3 #tbb tech #i just really want to know what went down during the story planning and production #because i'm overly curious like that

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thetepes · 10 days ago

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There's one thing in seeing her work and saying "Hey, I want to write my own Pokemon story because I have a story to tell and I think I could make something better than this!" That's good. That's based. I want to read all your much better Pokemon stories or Avatar stories or Star Wars stories. Send them to me.

Taking her story apart and pointing out the faults, flaws, weirdness, and downright gross bullshit? Fine. Good. We need more people doing it. Hell, even point point out one or two things she did well while youre at it if you can't find them.

Rewriting her work? That's another thing. I'm barely comfortable with redesigns because I saw someone sending their redesigns to Morch for her approval?

A redesign going "Here's what's wrong with this, let's fix it and discuss" is not the same as "Here's my take on Bonny! Isn't she cute!?" That's fan behavior. You're just a fan. You're a fan and you know there's something objectively weird and wrong with that and don't want the social punishments of just coming out and saying it.

#lily orchard critical

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starbeltconstellation · 2 months ago

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I don’t think they are bad and some survived order 66 Quinlan Vos was one of them. But I do believe they lost their way by the end of the clone wars because most lost their way or watered down their beliefs becoming to caught up in image and pandering to the senate (palps *cough*) even yoda said basically that a dark shroud surround them (Sith made) but they made themselves susceptible to it with arrogance, becoming inflexible, and a strange combo of attachment and detachment. Even mace windu was attached to the republic which is one of the reasons he was so defensive and disliked Anakin he saw him as a threat to his republic.

I’m not trying to hate on the Jedi just make sure that in discussing the Jedi we remember the good and bad. The Jedi did a lot of good, they made one of the longest major peace times the galaxy had ever seen, that’s 1000 years of peace time after ending the Sith war. And actually Luke skywalker, Ezra Bridger, Ahsoka (rebellion), and season 4 Kanan were prime examples of what the Jedi were originally. I just think when palpatine started pulling strings and corrupting everything to take power it made slow brewing Jedi problems 10x worse as some Jedi like Barriss Offee’s master mixed up avoiding negative attachment with being cold and callous because while a Jedi master should avoid “possessive” attachment especially in a way that would hold their student back they should have a good bond with them because emotional bonds are one of the pillars of trust.

-that’s my take, I’m not sure what you meant by no Jedi haters though. So if this crosses your line then I’m sorry I can see myself out cause I don’t want to start a conflict 😅

Hello, anon. 👋

Firstly, I just want to DEEPLY apologize for the long wait in my response. 😅🤦‍♀️ I try not to get behind on asks, but life has been crazy for me at the moment, and especially with longer asks like yours, I really want to take my time and give a good and in depth response.

Now, just right off the bat: I don’t mind discussing things. As long as it doesn’t get nasty and full of insults. So I’m not about to bite your head off.

In fact, I am going to take the time to use your ask to refute all of these critical/anti Jedi points, proving how most of it is Palpatine’s propaganda that the galactic citizens/SW fandom has grown to believe because it’s easier to have a big bad scapegoat (ie; the Jedi boogie man) than for galactic citizens to grapple with the fact that they themselves are also a part of the problem because THEY are the ones who vote in politicians in the Senate (who are a lot corrupt, except like a handful like Mon Mothma/Bail Organa/Riyo Chuchi/Padmé/etc. And even Padmé wasn’t a complete saint like a lot of fans think, since she purposely hid Anakin’s Tusken massacre just because she didn’t want to give up her new hot murder husband who was obsessively adoring over her/loved her), and THEY are the ones who also got the most complacent, are they not? After all… if the fandom blames the JEDI… why didn’t the CITIZENS clock anything wrong until suddenly an Empire was telling them to hand over all their freedoms or die?

It’s really easy to sit back and say what you would’ve done in the Jedi’s position, because the audience has more information than they do. What Dooku and Qui-Gon told them is the equivalent of being told they saw a unicorn (Sith) in the wild. It’s not that out there that there’d be some doubts from the Council, and people seem to forget that the Council STILL said they’d look into it. But they aren’t magic. They can’t just snap their fingers and see that Palpatine is the Sith Lord. Especially with the Darkness cloaking their Force senses. I think it’s kinda… gross? To blame them for something Palpatine was causing (the cloaking Darkness) that was literally part of the plan to genocide them. Just a thought, but maybe that should be Palpatine’s and Anakin’s fault, where it belongs? Lol. Sorry if I sound a little snippy, it’s just this is a tired and running around in circles argument (although I do think your ask is a genuine one, which is why I’m taking the time to answer it and perhaps if not change YOUR mind, then change someone else’s that might read this. I’m trying to reach more across the aisle here, because both sides I’ll admit have moments where they only want to be defensive and not explain their positions).

It’s funny how people always point out that the Jedi missed brewing corruption (they totally knew about it and tried to fight against it how they could. But just like in real life, I’m unsure what people expect from them. To strut into the Senate and threaten/murder the politicians into submission? Because ya know… that was kinda the red flag Anakin gave off with that “They should be made to!” line to Padmé. Just saying. 🤷‍♀️ Just like anyone, Jedi know the politicians of the Republic are slowly being corrupt (just like MOST politicians in real life, and you don't see everyone condemning all US citizens because we don't go clean them out like assassins or something), but there isn't anything they can do about that unless you expect them to go in and wave their lightsabers around to threaten the politicians into submission. As if Palpatine wouldn't immediately twist that into his favor to say they were "trying to take over the Republic". (And oh wait—he did that in the movies! Funny how that works, huh?)

What I think is interesting about you and about a lot of Jedi fans (including LH, who is the writer of The Acolyte) is that you THINK you’re being “fair” to the Jedi, but you’re kinda… not? 🤷‍♀️😅 And I’m not saying that as an insult. I’m saying it because it’s true.

Let me explain: There are rabid anti Jedi fans known as the infamous Karen Travis’s who is basically a rapid and foaming at the mouth Jedi anti who believes they “got what was coming to them.🤢🥶” LH on the other hand (at least in HER head), views herself as Jedi CRITICAL (which is something you clearly view yourself as as well. And there’s nothing wrong with being Jedi critical. The problem is that a lot of times this “criticism” becomes condescending, whether intentional or not, despite maybe the person’s best intentions). And while there is a little bit of a difference there, it’s not as stark a line as fans would try to convince us pro Jedi’s to believe.

As I mentioned to someone else in my other ask: there are plenty of fair criticisms about the Jedi that I can acknowledge: the Shimi thing, for one, which is I think just a bad symptom of GL’s writing being more “metaphorical” than literal. Shimi HAS to stay on Tatooine because Anakin eventually HAS to murder the Tuskens in cold blood so GL can tell the story he wants to tell of how Anakin can’t let go, and so the Jedi are never given the opportunity to do what I truly BELIEVE they would’ve done, which is go back and free her, at least for the peace of mind of one of their newest initiate. The plot literally physically bars them from doing so.

And even THIS is not without its flaws, because they would ONLY have wiggle room to free Shimi after the heat of TPM problems had died down where they had time to do so… while walking past/avoiding eye contact with all of Shimi’s slave neighbors, because as specified before—The Jedi have no jurisdiction in the Outer Rim, and you bet your ass if they freed all those slaves and started a war with the Hutts with their little 10,000 strong army, the Republic would take one look and go “Lol, good luck with that,” and not help them at all, which would be basically suicide for the Order to try and accomplish on abolishment of slavery on the Outer Rim all on their own in the TRILLIONS of people in the galaxy. They do not have the MAN POWER for that. Not without the Senate army/clones. So how can they be blamed for this? WHY are one of the “space minorities” of the galaxy being blamed for something that should be the POLITICIANS’S job? Can you not see the double standard here? Genuinely asking, anon, because it’s always baffled me.

People want the Jedi to do something about it? Get on the Senate’s ass about it then—the REAL people who are responsible for all of the shit going wrong in the Outer Rim while they line their pockets and kiss up to clueless galactic citizens for votes come election time. THEY are the ones that should be responsible for the problems of an ENTIRE galaxy—not a small little minority group (which I’ve already come to realize that the Jedi are. They are a culture/religion/family, and 10,000 is but a drop in the ocean of the galaxy. They are so small in the grand scheme of things that it’s SCARY when considering how easy it was for Palpatine to lead them to almost total annihilation) that try and try and TRY as hard as they can, which is apparently somehow NEVER enough, for the galactic citizens AND the SW fandom itself.

And why is that? Why is it so HARD for SW fandom to relate to them? Why does LH (who I’m sure in her head BELIEVES she’s as progressive as they come, just as I genuinely believe you had the best intentions when reaching across the aisle to send me this ask, but at the end of the day still comes across frankly exhausting and a little condescending when you pick out the “good Jedi blorbos” who are ones that deserve to live and don’t have to be dehumanized as “emotionless/cold/callous” like you just did with Luminara just because Luminara chose to grieve in a way you and Anakin and many other rabid Anakin fans/anti Jedi’s view as lesser than) view the Jedi as some type of “space cops” who are “oppressing 🙄” the Sith as a representation of her religious trauma that she is clearly projecting onto them as something completely separate than what the Jedi Culture actually is? Why does she view them as “emotionally repressed” and “almost catholic-like”, and views the fucking SITH (literal SPACE NAZIS 😭🤦‍♀️) as a representation for her persecution as a gay woman?

It’s because—just like MOST SW fans in the US—she cannot fathom a culture outside of the lens of western philosophy. In her mind, the Jedi aren’t a “real 🙄🤢” family. In HER mind, the Jedi aren’t necessarily evil, but she still believes those “poor little culty Jedi 😔💔🙄” didn’t see they were ‘sewing their own destruction’. (Which is blaming them. It’s BLAMING the victims of genocide, and it’s to this day the most disgusting thing I will always remember about the show’s “your actions will cause the destruction of every Jedi in the galaxy” quote that made Twitter go wild with genocide apologia galore).

I’m not gonna repeat everything in the post I made to the other anon (this ask response is long enough already), but I’ll link it here in case you want to read it, because I do have some examples screenshotted of certain SW fandom dehumanizing the Jedi and showing genocide apologia, which proves that pro Jedi’s critique/defensiveness for the Jedi Order and their culture isn’t an overreaction or without basis, because it proves that blaming the Jedi for their own genocide is the NORM, even if people won’t admit so outright (still can’t believe The Acolyte just outright SAID it. I’m not gonna rub fans’s of the show’s faces in it, but because of that line alone, I’m SO glad that show was cancelled. Anti Jedi propaganda is already bad enough).

Also, I’m sorry to tell you this, anon, but the Mace Windu thing is just straight up wrong. I have never understood this Mace thing with the fandom. People act like Mace was personally bullying Anakin every damn day. Mace didn’t even hate Anakin. Just because Mace was a little stern with Anakin and didn't worship the ground he walked on didn't mean he hated/disliked him/was jealous of him (a frankly childish notion, in my opinion). They both just had different views over how to be a Jedi and in battle strategies during the war. It was never personal with Mace. Anakin MADE it personal, because he always took not being told "yes" personally, like it was a slight against him. He didn’t see Anakin as a threat to the Republic until literally the last free day of democracy when he looked at him and saw a giant shatterpoint all around Anakin. I think that would give any Jedi pause. Lol.

Mace was a fine Jedi who treated Anakin just fine. Just because he didn’t worship the ground Anakin walked on or treated him like God’s gift doesn’t mean that Mace was a bad person or Anakin was a “poor little guy” getting bullied by him. The thing with Mace refusing Anakin a seat on the Council is overblown. Frankly: Anakin didn’t DESERVE a seat on the Council. He might’ve been a powerful Jedi, but he was still hot headed and reckless and still had a lot to learn. And his temper tantrum when he didn’t get his way did him no favors either (look, I LOVE Anakin, but I’m not gonna be delusional about his faults, okay? Most of his problems were caused because he built them up out of thin air. He built up this rivalry with Mace in his head, when Mace was busy with his own life. Mace was not “out to get Anakin” or something. That’s—as kindly as I can say—something children tell themselves when angry at parents who tell them “no”, which Mace did a lot with Anakin). And I’m not gonna lie, anon. People have always seemed extra hard on Mace specifically, and while it might not be all of it, I think there’s a part of racism mixed in there with a proud black Jedi that isn’t afraid to stand up to the white and emo and hot future serial killer in the making (my hot Anakin! 🥰🥰😂). I’m not saying YOU specifically are being racist, but I’m just pointing out something that I’ve always felt reeked around the fandom opinion of Mace (more from the SW YouTube dudebro side of the fandom, but still).

I’m not gonna go and explain a play by play of all my points, because I got in a argument/discussion with someone on YouTube the other day (even though I know it’s bad for my blood pressure 😬😤😂), and I feel like the points I made there are perfect as a main response for this ask, so I’m going to place the screenshots here. This whole online debate came about when I was watching a SW lore video on Leia visiting Anakin’s grave after the ROTJ celebration and telling him she doesn’t forgive him, and one of the commentators called her a “brat”, which pissed me off. Lol. But anyway, we’ve been going back and forth the past few days, and I’ve basically made a mini pro Jedi manifesto, so I think all of the screenshots will answer most of your questions and also refute them to show how they are inaccurate and more of a fandom opinion that’s only come about because fans like Anakin and want to twist themselves into knots to blame everyone for his problems but him.

Here are all of the online person’s screenshots: you’ll notice how eventually he tries to justify Anakin killing the younglings as a “mercy”. 🥶🥶🤢 Yikes.

Here are my responses:

Damn. Apparently there��s a screenshot limit. 😭 I’ll copy paste the rest:

Leia had every right to come and get closure if she needed to. Anakin personally tortured her himself after all. She has a personal stake in this through being tortured by their own FATHER that Luke doesn't have. Whether she wanted to go to make sure the person she viewed as a monster was dead, or to try and get some closure from what Luke had told her, it was within her rights to do so. She understood EVERYTHING perfectly. She knew who Anakin had been for years before the last five minutes of his death, and that was someone who'd terrorized the galaxy.

Lol, Anakin wasn't "fulfilling the will of The Force" as his reign on the Dark Side for 20 something years. He fulfilled the will of the Force when he finally got off his ass and killed Palpatine to end the last of the Sith. It's a copout to pretend any of his other actions were anything but his own choice, otherwise his 'redemption' means squat. She doesn't owe him anything just because he stopped the horror by killing Palpatine. It's the LEAST he could've done. You seem to believe that one action somehow should buy Anakin forgiveness in the eyes of all of his victims, and if they don't forgive him, then they're "brats" or something. Redemption doesn't work like that. You don't do the right thing because you'll get something out of it. You do it to be selfless and because it's simply the right thing to do. And I can tell you that Anakin would probably disagree with your opinion on Leia being a "brat" himself once he was back on the Light Side, because the whole point is that he'd be REPENTANT. Not being arrogant and expecting blind forgiveness for things that are quite frankly unforgivable.

Luke's forgiveness is a GIFT. It is NOT something that has to be the norm, and Leia is no less because she chooses not to forgive Anakin. She has every right to never view him as her father till her dying days.

Anakin had EVERYTHING to do with the explosion of Alderaan. This BS certain fans spout of "that was Tarkin" is nonsense. Anakin had agency. He could've tried to stop Tarkin or tried to leave the Empire way before that moment. Just because it was hard, he chose not to. EVERYONE on board the Death Star that weren't prisoners are responsible for the destruction of Alderaan. And yes, that includes Anakin. As I said before, Tarkin would only be given the highest sentence in court because he chose to order the planet destroyed. But Anakin would still be charged right along with him in a court of law. Just because Anakin had a traumatic life, doesn't excuse the things he's done. That's like saying a school shooter/serial killer has no agency over killing their victims just because they had a “hard life.” It’s a frankly illogical argument.

Anakin as 'Vader' could've choked Tarkin out right there. Who's gonna stop him? He's survived dozens of enemies in the comics. Him not having "authority" is a copout. Anakin was given plenty of authority in the Empire. He was just still Palpatine's lapdog at the end of the day. Hell—he could've grew a spine and left the Empire years BEFORE that moment. He does not get a free pass for "following orders".

Lol, Anakin does NOT have borderline personality disorder. That’s a fanon theory. That is NOT actually canon and George never said that. GL says Anakin fell because of his greed for power to never feel weak like he did as a child and because he was afraid to let go. The Jedi didn't fail him. He failed THEM. He's the one who fucking genocided them after all. Their entire culture is literally mental empathy because they're space wizards. There were times when Yoda and Obi-Wan all but BEG Anakin to open his mouth and say what's wrong, and he either refuses or is so vague that there's no way to glean what his main problem is (when Anakin talks to Yoda about Padmé and won't just ADMIT it's about Padmé). People can't help you if you don't meet them halfway. Anakin refused to do that. That's on him. Not on any of his victims. And even if he DID have borderline personality disorder (which is just a fanon theory), he'd STILL be responsible for his actions. It's amazing how much fans blame everyone else under the sun than the man who choked his wife. Lol.

I don't think Anakin is emotionless or incapable of care or goodness. That's the whole point of Luke, after all. I simply deny not giving him the agency to make his own decisions. He WAS a monster. What else do you call killing little kids who beg for your help? But the point of Luke is that Anakin ALWAYS had the opportunity to turn from his actions and be better. He just didn't find the spine until ROTJ. And that's great! He turned back to the light and his soul found salvation. But he is NOT redeemed in the eyes of anyone but Luke. It's laughable to think otherwise or that he wouldn't have been executed if he'd survived. And it's illogical to blame his victims and call them "brats" just because they won't forgive someone who was once basically space Hitler.

Despite what you may think, I love Anakin's character and the tragedy of him. I love that he found salvation in the end. But I DESPISE treating him like a child who didn't know what he was doing. He knew. He was selfish for twenty years. LUKE is who taught him how to be selfless. Everything else is on him. You can't call him the greatest 'redemption' of all time and then blame everyone else for his actions.

Because then what is there to redeem?

Nothing.

You can't have both. Pick one. 🤷‍♀️

What does it matter that Anakin as 'Vader' knew that Palpatine wouldn't praise Tarkin for such a cruel and useless thing in destroying a planet just to look a little tough? That doesn't mean shit. Just because Tarkin eventually gets what was coming to him, doesn't mean that Anakin couldn't have sped up Tarkin's demise right there. Good actions don't work like that: "Oh, it didn't really matter that he didn't try to save Alderaan! Because in the end Tarkin gets his karma!" (Anakin gets his karma too, by the way. You could argue from his burns or the fact that the only way he can 'redeem' himself is through dying by killing Palpatine).

I'm not sure what argument your making on if Anakin could've "talked" Tarkin into another way to get Leia to talk to betray the Rebels. I'm arguing that if he—or YOU—expected Leia's "forgiveness", then it implies there should've been some level where he could've done something different. I'm arguing he could've left the Empire years earlier if he'd grown a spine, or he could've Force choked Tarkin out right there and got him and Leia out of there somehow. Who's gonna stop him? No lowly soldier on board the Death Star could stand in his way. Palpatine would be miles away at that point.

He could've done something different. Fans just argue he was "helpless" in the sense that they don't want Anakin to be selfless to give anything up. The excuse that he was "stuck" and "had nothing left" is BS. Deep down, Anakin knows if he found Obi-Wan and repented that Obi-Wan would take him back. There's a whole arc about it in a comic when he's trying to bleed a Kyber Krystal. He just doesn't do it because he's too depressed and selfish to admit he screwed up his own life. He pretended for 20 years everyone betrayed him, when really it was the other way around, and that was too horrific to contemplate, so he pretended he was another person, when clearly he's still the same guy, only horrifically injured under the mask. He can only admit the truth after Luke offers him blind forgiveness.

It doesn't really matter that psychologists have "diagnosed" Anakin. He isn't a real person. He's a character that was written with a narrative purpose by GL. And GL was clear when he says the reasons Anakin does what he does is because he's greedy for power to not feel weak again and also because he's too afraid to let go. The writer of the character knows better actually. Isn't that what SW fans always say with GL?

Jedi are literally space Buddhists that GL describes as "empathetic space monks." Part of their culture is literally to be connected to all life around them. It's laughable to say they wouldn't understand a "simple person" in the galaxy. That's literally what they're taught to do in the Temple. Before the war, they were Advisors/ mediators.

Anakin had a fondness for Qui-Gon, but he did trust Obi-Wan. Maybe not enough to mention Padmé (he didn't trust ANYONE with that except apparently Rex, and l'm almost certain Rex found out on accident, because Anakin definitely doesn't care about Rex as much as he did Ahsoka), but he DID trust him. And he cared for Obi-Wan greatly. Just not more than his own wants and needs apparently. But that's true when it comes to Anakin choosing himself over all of his friends and family at the end of ROTS. The Jedi would've helped Anakin if he'd just ASKED without being so damn vague. Maybe they wouldn't have let him stay in the Order, but it's not like he'd be kicked out the door immediately. But Anakin wanted his cake and to eat it too, so he didn't tell him about his wife because he wanted to keep the power of being a Jedi. And guess what? The Jedi don't OWE one man the power to change their entire culture just for him.

There isn't anything wrong with having a set of rules for beliefs. Priests can't marry either. That doesn't make them “emotionless robots” that are “incapable of understanding human emotion” or understanding a struggling man's thoughts. As I said before, the Jedi cannot help Anakin if he doesn't ASK. You cannot condemn them in one breath for not helping him, while at the same time saying that it's fine Anakin didn't explain his problems with them, because they should've just been able to read his mind. It's hypocritical.

Obi-Wan had no other options but to follow Padmé to find Anakin. He NEEDED to find Anakin, because Anakin was fucking dangerous at that point in time, and had just helped genocide an entire culture. Not exactly father/husband material at that point. And even then, in the movies Obi-Wan doesn't reveal himself until it's clear Anakin isn't going to listen to Padmé. It's ludicrous to think if Padme kept arguing with Anakin that Anakin still wouldn't have strangled her in anger in that moment. Again, it appears somehow you're trying to put off this transgression he's committed on someone else again, and I cannot fathom why. It makes him far less interesting that way if he was just a "poor guy" who couldn't control himself.

What I find interesting is you can admit that Anakin doesn't have the information the audience does, which is why he thinks Palpatine is kind and is his friend, but you show no grace towards the Jedi, calling them "arrogant" for not realizing the Sith had slowly popped back up, as if they are somehow supposed to have the audience's information. The truth is that they don't.

Just like anyone, they know the politicians of the Republic are slowly being corrupt (just like MOST politicians in real life, and you don't see everyone condemning all US citizens because we don't go clean them out like assassins or something), but there isn't anything they can do about that unless you expect them to go in and wave their lightsabers around to threaten the politicians into submission. As if Palpatine wouldn't immediately twist that into his favor to say they were "trying to take over the Republic". (And oh wait—he did that in the movies! 🤷‍♀️ Funny how that works, huh?)

It doesn't matter if Anakin didn't "want" to kill kids/the Tuskens/betray Mace and his Jedi friends. What does that matter? What does it matter if he felt bad while doing it if he still DOES it? You wouldn't say a school shooter wasn't responsible for their actions just because they were sobbing the whole time they went around slaughtering everyone in the school. Anakin's responsible for his own actions, and just because he might feel "bad" doesn't let him off the hook. Even when he was masquerading as 'Vader.' Who cares if he was miserable 24/7? l’ll tell you his victims sure didn't when he decapitated them with his lightsaber or snapped their spines.

I'm not arguing about the people that forgave Anakin. I'm arguing over condemning people as "brats" that don't. (I personally think it's a copout to have Leia forgive him after reading some diary, so l'm glad at the least apparently new canon has her taking her entire life to get there). My point is there is nothing that makes Anakin's victims any less if they choose not to forgive him, because forgiveness is a GIFT. It isn't something you're owed. It's funny fans keep pretending he's owed that while condemning all of the Jedi as "arrogant", because I can't think of anything more arrogant than a man who was formerly one of the worst monsters in the galaxy thinking he's "owed" forgiveness. And just as I mentioned before, the Anakin after he came back to the Light wouldn't even agree with such a notion. He may ASK. But he wouldn't call Leia a "brat" for it. It's ridiculous to think that after the horror he'd personally committed to her.

I don't really care what your thoughts are on "Darth Mouse" as that's not what this conversation is about. GL describes Palpatine as the Devil, which is why Anakin can be turned back to the Light and Palpatine can't. But there is NO DOUBT that Anakin as 'Darth Vader' is seen as 'space Hitler' throughout internet culture (the Empire/the Sith is LITERALLY based off of Nazis). If you'd take a moment to google it you would see it's already a huge staple of internet culture. That doesn't make him emotionless or without goodness (he saved Luke, after all), but it IS still true. I don't see what's so hard about acknowledging his atrocities. He was a cruel and horrible monster for most of his life, and it only makes Luke's actions all the more miraculous when he somehow gets through to Anakin and makes him consider a heel face turn in the final hour.

Lol, honestly I also think you're a pretty strange person calling one of Anakin's torture victims a "brat" just because she didn't forgive him like dear saintly Luke. There is no shame in being kind like Luke (it helped him win after all), but there is NOTHING that makes Leia a bad person for not forgiving Anakin. I think you don't seem to contemplate just how BAD that is. Her FATHER tortured her for apparently HOURS. We have no idea just what he said and did to her during this time. He could've taunted her, for all we know. And I know, I know, you might say "He didn't know she was his daughter! 🤪🤪 " But that's not the POINT. The point is how he was cruel, and only seemed care when he realized she was his flesh and blood. Anakin's lucky Leia didn't spit on his grave. Because she WASN'T consumed by her anger to the point it was unhealthy. She just didn't forgive him and never viewed him as her father as long as she lived (because BAIL ORGANA was her father in all but blood). And that is within her rights. As I keep stating, Anakin is not OWED anything. His actions at the end of ROTJ are the LEAST he can do. He should be GRATEFUL to the opportunity Luke gave him and how Obi-Wan and Yoda were saintly enough to forgive him and help him become a Force ghost, because he quite frankly didn't deserve it. But salvation isn't always about what people deserve. Just like forgiveness, it's a gift. Anakin received a gift from Luke and Obi-Wan—but he is NOT owed it from Leia. And she isn't a "brat" for not giving it to him. It is important to stick to one's beliefs and principles. Leia stuck by hers. That takes courage and strength. She loved Luke but never agreed with him about Anakin.

And I also never called Anakin as 'Vader' a maniac. I called him basically a monster. Because he WAS. He helped kill thousands of people for Palpatine on the regular and continued to help genocide Jedi over the years, while ALSO still killing more kids over the years a handful of times too, even if he usually tried to avoid it (the Kenobi Show when he purposely snapped a kid's neck in front of his mother and dragged him through the street like garbage). Ironically, the more you learn and read about Anakin's atrocities, the more Luke's reaction becomes downright insane (while still saintly/miraculous), because NOBODY else (especially in real life!) would think someone like that had a heart deep down with a sliver of care left. That's what makes it miraculous Luke got through to him.

Lol, you cannot seriously be arguing that the maintenance workers on board the Death Star were "poor little guys." I don't know if you're aware of this, but even though there were probably volunteers, on the other hand, usually half the time in the military soldiers are ASSIGNED certain things like "mopping the floors" or "latrine duty" personally—so those people STILL were probably Empire officers. And even if they weren't, they still chose to be on the abomination known as the Death Star. Their sentence may be the lightest, but unless they were put there against their will they too would ALSO be charged. And also—with your argument—you're calling Luke's actions at the end of the Original Trilogy as a genocidal act or something, when really it was a necessary act to take out a planet destroying death machine. It's amazing how certain fans can try to twist things around to try and blame the heroes for something that is the villain's fault.

Here we go again with the excuses of "if only Mace wasn't mean to poor little Anakin" then Anakin wouldn't have had to murder everyone. Lol, is Anakin incapable of cognitive thinking? Because I promise you that if I was Ahsoka and heard that Anakin's reasoning for trying to kill me at one point in Rebels and betraying all of his friends is because a few people were "mean to him" I would just be pissed off at the gall of him to not take responsibility for his own actions. Even if a few people WERE mean to Anakin, that still doesn't give him the right to go on a murderous rampage. All his actions are still on him. That's like saying a school shooter is justified in his actions just because he was bullied. You calling Anakin a "Trojan horse" as if he planned any of that and wasn't just riding by the seat of his pants doesn't really make sense. Anakin didn't plan anything, and if you're arguing that BS theory that Anakin "balanced" the Force by genociding the Light Side to have it be even with the Dark Side (not true anyway since there were still more Light Siders than Dark Siders), then I am sad to say that you are objectively wrong. 🤷‍♀️

There is no way that "genocide is good, actually!" is the main theme GL had for a children's Trilogy. Anakin completed the prophecy when he finally got off his ass to kill Palpatine. He could've done that in Palpatine's office, or years down the line—either way, the outcome to complete the prophecy is the same: the eradication of the Sith. No more. No less.

Quite frankly, I think it's pretty gross to blame a culture for their own genocide, so the galactic community isn't doing itself any favors at that point anyway (including the SW community. It's always been a baffling fandom opinion to me). And despite what you and other fans may believe—the Jedi shouldn't have to CHANGE their entire culture/way of life for the sake of one man (Anakin) OR the galaxy's inhabitants who don't even TRY to understand them anyway (funny how Jedi are blamed for not understanding citizens, but what citizens try to understand them?).

They are not obligated to change their culture just for the right not to be murdered by a genocidal man on a temper tantrum.

Yeah, it's not surprising there were some among the population who "rejoiced" the fall of the Order. The war affected people's livelihoods and lives, and people get REAL greedy real fast when their day to day lives are affected by something. So yeah, it's no wonder they listened to Palpatine's propaganda to make the Jedi their scapegoat. Still pretty gross and disgusting, of course, but I can see how it came to be that way. Pretty ironic how people seemed to eventually miss the Jedi when they were gone, huh? It's not so fun dealing with an enemy (The Empire) when no space monk is standing protectively in front of you with a laser sword.

You DO know it's canon there were only 10,000 Jedi (not counting younglings and retired Masters) in a galaxy of TRILLIONS, right? It's illogical to expect them to be able to single handedly end slavery throughout the galaxy (especially in the Outer Rim where the Senate won't help them), or to expect them to be able to solve every damn problem in the universe like poverty (the lower levels of Coruscant). They helped people when they could. I don't know how, but you've seemed to have forgotten (just like most fans) that the Jedi ALWAYS tried to help. Even to the very end of their lives. It only makes it more gross to blame them for their own genocide. Lol, Luke barely knew shit about them except what he managed to scrounge up that hadn't been purged by the Empire (and a lot of that is from Legends authors, who didn't particularly like the Jedi anyway, so of course they'd write it like that and not as GL's vision of them being the heroes). The clones were treated terribly, and the Jedi did everything they could to make their lives easier (unless you'd prefer they sit on their asses out of the war to leave the clones under the command of people like Tarkin who didn't give a shit about them?), and it's illogical to blame them for the clones's plight. The SENATE are the corrupt ones and it's THEIR job to fix poverty and slavery and give the clones their rights. THEY are the actual villains of the prequels (besides the Sith), which is exactly what GL wanted to present to show the moral decay of democracy. And yet somehow people missed that and thought he was saying—"No, actually, it's the genocide victims who are wrong, guys!" when that couldn't be farther from accurate.

Dear LORD, here we go again with the excuses for Anakin's actions. Anakin "couldn't trust" Obi-Wan because of something kinda snippy/mean that Obi-Wan said when he was a TEENAGER?(The “pathetic life form/he’s dangerous line”, which he said when he was jealous/also—again—a teenager). Wow, way to hold a grudge. Lol. Doesn't that go against your whole argument about "forgiveness?" Didn't Obi-Wan's following actions towards Anakin then on in treating him like a brother show NOTHING about his care for him? Come on now. Let's be serious.

Why the hell WOULDN'T Obi-Wan go after Anakin? As stated beforehand, Anakin was DANGEROUS at that point, and needed to be put down. Anakin went against his fate to destroy the Sith, which put the prophecy on hold for a bit, so yeah, there was a "plan", which is why he lived, but that doesn't mean he wasn't dangerous and still didn't deserve to die at that point in time. He'd just killed kids like animals hours earlier. Again: not exactly husband/father material anymore.

Again, I feel like the implication here is that you're hinting that everyone misinterpreted the prophecy and that Anakin's fate was to bring "balance" by becoming a genocidal monster and "evening the score", and I am sad to say that you are objectively wrong. 🤷‍♀️ It's not accurate to state GL's original intent to a children's trilogy is that genocide to "even the score" was the correct answer. As stated again: Anakin completed the prophecy when he destroyed the Sith (ie; him and Palpatine). Full stop.

Hmmmm, you're doing a whole lot of speculation on how Leia "might" react if she was put in Anakin's situation, but not actually taking into account how everyone makes their own decisions and people can react differently to things at the end of the day. This just feels like another way you're trying to excuse Anakin's actions and condemn Leia for her bitterness towards Anakin just because: "Oh, if only that brat went what he went through! 🤪 " And such an argument—in the nicest way I can think possible—feels like the platitudes children tell themselves when angry at their parents. ALL of your and rabid Anakin fans's arguments are, because it all boils down to: "It wasn't HIS Fault! It was THIS person's! Because they were MEAN to him and he got BULLIED! And all his friends didn't understand him (even when it's obvious they reached out plenty of times and tried)!" It's just a very tired and frankly going in circles argument. You keep bringing up all these external factors as if the Jedi didn't try at all to offer Anakin coping mechanisms (Yoda literally offered them, and his advice—whether you or others want to admit it or not—makes sense. In war, you sometimes have to be prepared you might lose someone, and with the vague knowledge Anakin gave him, I'm pretty sure Yoda thought Anakin was talking about Obi-Wan. If Yoda knew it was about Padmé, no shit he'd probably have different advice). Anakin's life was not horrible at the Temple. He had a horrible childhood and that would fuck anyone's head up and leave a scar, but once at the Temple he was offered a whole range of different options to receive help. The only difference here is that you just don't AGREE with the Jedi's beliefs in how they go about helping people control their emotions so they don't lash out at people.

Maybe a few people (kids) at the Temple said a few things to Anakin that could be bullying (and I've only seen ONE comic related to that), but it's ridiculous to assume that the entire Jedi Order hated him. It's illogical to think that, and it's just like the childish notion fans have that Mace (who you call a "motherfucker" for... again, what? Treating Anakin like everyone else and not God's gift?) hated or was jealous of Anakin just because he didn't tell him "yes" all the time.

The point is, Anakin's life was fine at the Temple. Maybe he got a little isolated and lonely, but it's not like people didn't reach out. Anakin just had trouble reaching back. And all of those excuses don't let him off the hook for his genocidal actions, which you still seem to be twisting yourself into knots to try and do. THAT is childish. Not Leia judging Anakin for who he was when she had the misfortune of being tortured by him. You're plain lying to yourself if you think you wouldn't react just like Leia in real life. Most people are not gonna be wondering to themselves why the "poor little serial killer" did what he did to their family.

Just as stated before, Anakin honestly didn't deserve shit at the end of his life.

He'd betrayed everyone he'd ever known and thrown them all away (Rex, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, Padmé, the Jedi/501st, R2, etc) like complete garbage. He helped genocide the Jedi—the very Order that took him in from slavery—and then spent those next 20 years hunting them down like animals, while also in his free time killing whoever Palpatine pointed him to like a lapdog just because he was depressed and pissed he'd screwed up his own life. He'd murdered thousands of kids at that point (literally monstrous and unforgivable for most people. Certainly me. Which only makes Luke's forgiveness more meaningful) and there is a comic where he hunted down a Jedi just for the sheer purpose of ripping his youngling out of the man's arms so he could let Palpatine turn the baby into an Inquisitor.

I am sure there are compilations on YouTube of all the people Anakin killed and the people he'd tortured or made jokes at while he smirked over their bodies. Come back and watch those and then tell me again he "deserved" to find peace. Lol, Anakin didn't deserve shit.

And I know that me saying that will probably make you think I hate his character. I don't. Anakin's character is very dear to me and I'm GLAD he found peace at the end of his life. I'm just under no delusions that he was "redeemed" in any sense of the word that wasn't in Luke's eyes alone or that Anakin actually "deserved" peace, when it should be completely obvious he deserved to be condemned to the farthest pits of Hell. As I keep repeating again and again: Anakin's 'redemption' and forgiveness are GIFTS. It's not something he is owed or something he even deserves. It's something he's given from the people around him who are quite frankly better people than he ever was in his entire life. Luke taught him how to be selfless at the end of his life. Because of his trauma as a slave, Anakin never wanted to do that beforehand from the fear of being weak again, no matter how many tried to help. But Luke did, and he succeeded with getting through to Anakin and making him finally get off his ass to make the right choice.

Again, The Force may have a "plan" but that doesn't mean people don't have free will. Otherwise, they'd all just be mindless puppets walking around spouting nonsense. That's just another copout to try and excuse Anakin's genocidal actions and say it wasn't his fault because it was his "fate". It wasn't. His fate was to destroy the Sith (and NOTHING else, despite what you apparently believe about a BS argument that I admit is common in fanon that Anakin "evening the playing field" was his destiny or something). He tripped and dragged his heels on that for twenty years before finally completing the prophecy in the final hour before his death. No more, no less.

It's childish to not take responsibility for your actions. It's why even though I love his character l'm not gonna treat Anakin like he was a "poor little guy" who didn't have a brain. He had options and a support system (Obi-Wan/Ahsoka/Padmé/Rex/R2/etc) he could've reached out to if he really wanted to. But he didn't because he just wanted to be told he was right. That's on him and no one else, as I keep saying over and over, despite how many excuses for him you try to bring up. I will repeat again: you give Anakin a lot of grace, but apparently none to Leia herself. Why is that? It feels pretty hypocritical. It also feels pretty hypocritical to judge and blame the Jedi in one breath saying they "lost their way (incorrect)", while in another breath embracing their very own beliefs on love and forgiveness. So, which is it? Do you think the Jedi had a wisdom and empathy for forgiveness, or do you think they "lost their way?" You can't have both and pick and choose based off how you want to excuse and justify Anakin's behavior.

Ahhhh, and THERE it is. See, I knew this gross argument (that I admit is a common fandom opinion) was hiding in there somewhere! I'm honestly not going to give this opinion much time, because at the end of the day you and everyone else who believe it are objectively wrong. 🤷‍♀️ You wanna know how I know that? Because it's genocide apologia. And at the end of the day, when you say the whole purpose GL made for Anakin's story and the theme of SW is that "genocide is good actually!", all I have to do to refute that is to remind you and others that this is a CHILDREN'S trilogy and from the words of GL himself; SW's main theme is about hope.

So because of that, this gross "theory" is shown for what it is: immoral, gross and just plain wrong genocide apologia. 🤷‍♀️ It's also just wrong in general, because Anakin killed all the Sith at the end of the Original Trilogy, and it's now canon more than two Light Siders were still alive at the time, so that would be "uneven scales" which goes against this immoral genocide apologia theory to begin with.

Ahhh, would you look at that! You've had the gall to bring up another gross argument similar to your earlier one (which is a common fandom one, I'll admit) that Anakin showed "mercy" to the younglings when killing them, when it's obvious that's incorrect and he didn't show them anything but cruelty. And now you're giving this type of similar gross argument that genocide survivors were "freed" from the "slavery" of their own culture! I gotta hand it to you, it's a common SW fan belief, but every time I hear it, I still get amazed at the gall of someone who truly believes this is accurate each and every time. Because it's obvious you don't agree with their culture (not saying I'd be a good Jedi either, but the point remains), which is why you think them being "freed" from their culture is better for them so the genocide survivors can make "real families" because you don't view the Jedi as family! Because you only believe in the basic family dynamic. So yeah, this opinion is also immoral and wrong obviously, because it tries to twist Anakin's and the Empire's genocidal actions as "benevolent" and "cleansing the Order for something new." Which is, again, genocide apologia, which proves you are wrong, because it's illogical that genocide apologia would be the theme of a children's trilogy about hope.

A lot of these things you bring up about Anakin and Palagueis are things l'm not even sure are actually canon anymore or if they're from Legends. Even if they are canon, these again are not excuses for his actions just because Anakin may have had a penchant for darkness. Even if he did, it's still his responsibility to learn how to control it and not hurt people. Many Jedi need to be guided on the right path to not follow evil, which is what the Jedi already did every day. With all of the thousands of Jedi trained and only a handful turning to the Dark Side, that seems like a pretty good record. The Jedi didn't "lose their way." This is a tired and BS argument that I admit Filoni has brewed the more GL gave him more leeway with SW, because Filoni doesn't view the Jedi as heroes in the right like GL did. There is nothing to show they lost their way just because they joined the war, because they literally were given that choice or sitting on their asses to watch the galaxy burn, and you bet your ass if they did that then Palpatine would spin it around to the public: "Look at how they sit in their ivory towers and watch you suffer under the Separatists's hands! 🤪🤪” So there is literally no way they can win here. If you're talking about how some of their methods got dirty (trying to mind trick the bounty hunter), firstly: they were literally trying to save their own children from being tortured/experimented on/enslaved, which I'm pretty sure gives them some slack (unless you're only willing to give that to Anakin?). Secondly, Anakin also got his hands dirty plenty of times in the war, and is conveniently not criticized by the fandom as much as the Jedi are. Ironic, huh?

Anakin could've told Obi-Wan anything and Obi-Wan would've helped him. Anakin knew that. Anakin just didn't want to risk losing his Jedi authority in the Order, because he didn't want to have to choose between a life with Padmé and being a powerful Jedi. If he cared about Padme completely selflessly, why didn't he just admit he was married and ask the Jedi to help Padmé and make sure she stayed alive through their Jedi healers? That was an option.

He literally risked Padme's life because he keeps sitting on the fence to try and have both. Because despite what you and some of his fans believe—Anakin isn't OWED both. He doesn't deserve everything in the world just because he is the oh so mighty "Chosen One/Hero With No Fear". A culture shouldn't have to change their entire way of life just for one man to continue being married and to have his cake and eat it too by staying in the Order. Even in real life, priests still aren't allowed to practice and be married. That doesn't mean they're being "repressed" or that they're under some type of horrible "slavery" to suppress their emotions. It's just the rules of that culture. If Anakin didn't like the rules of the Jedi, he should've just left after getting their help to keep Padmé and his kids safe. But he didn't because he wanted to keep both. That’s on him. Not his victims.

I mean, yeah, no duh the Jedi Order would’ve had some problems after killing Palpatine and having to prove they he was a Sith that acted on both sides of the war. Palpatine did that really well, but it’s a bit illogical to assume they wouldn’t eventually find evidence in his office somewhere or on his data files. He did the things he did by planning his schemes some type of way. And yeah, for some insane reason being a Sith Lord “wasn’t illegal”, but being controlling of both sides of the war IS, which they could’ve proved after a while. So, if you are trying to argue that Anakin’s actions were for the “better” because it would’ve been too “hard” for the Jedi otherwise—you are still objectively wrong this way. 🤷‍♀️ It’s also just another way to try and excuse Anakin by pretending his actions that day on the final day of freedom of democracy didn’t matter, when it’s obvious that they very clearly did. If Anakin hadn’t cut off Mace’s hand, the war would’ve been won. Therefore, everything that goes bad in the galaxy is legit Anakin’s fault. 🤷‍♀️ Of course Palpatine has the highest blame because he’s the mastermind, but betrayers/backstabbing is always a worse breed of crime, because it always comes from a friend, which is what Anakin was to the Jedi/Obi-Wan/Ahsoka/Rex/Padmé/501st. He legit ruins all of his friends’s lives with that one swing to cut off Mace’s hand. Trying to paint it as anything else is simply incorrect, and takes away from his ‘redemption’ at the end of the Original Trilogy by trying to pretend he’s a “poor little guy” who had no choice.

Anakin could’ve “defeated” Palpatine multiple ways. Just as I mentioned before, just because The Force had a “plan” doesn’t mean that everyone was puppets walking around on a string, because then free will wouldn’t exist. Anakin could’ve helped defeat Palpatine in his office that day in Revenge of The Sith by either taking the swing himself or either standing back and just letting Mace finish the job. He’s still The Chosen One that way, because his choice is still literally the defining action that saves democracy that way. He also could defeat him the way he does in the Original Trilogy, which is taking him by surprise to save Luke by throwing him down the reactor shaft to kill Palpatine. Either way gets the job done. He doesn’t need to physically fight Palpatine to get it done himself. He’s just the catalyst for what happens to the galaxy because of HIS choices alone, which proves how he has agency and understood why all his actions were wrong and just didn’t care. He didn’t need Luke for that in Palpatine’s office. All he had to do was grow a spine and let Mace take the final swing. He failed to do that and doomed the galaxy for twenty years because of it. 🤷‍♀️

Ahhh, there you go again with the gall to pretend that what Anakin did was “mercy” for the younglings just because the imperials would’ve done horrible things to them too! Gotta hand it to you, one has to have a lot of nerve to believe such an argument such as this (which I acknowledge is a common opinion among rabid Anakin fans), but it’s still gross and hilariously wrong every time I hear it repeated. So, just as I stated to you before: you and anyone else who has this opinion is WRONG, because obviously Anakin murdering little kids like animals is not a mercy. Anyone with any type of heart and soul should be able to realize that. What Anakin did is not and will never be a “mercy”. It was a cruel and dehumanizing act towards kids who were begging for his help. What would ACTUALLY have been mercy is what I stated before: Anakin snapping out of it to save the kids and lead them out of the Temple to save their lives. THAT is mercy. The only reason you continue to spout this BS argument that is common among rabid Anakin fans is to try and twist yourself into knots to deny Anakin agency and pretend he had “no choice” but to kill the kids for “mercy”, when it’s clear that this opinion of yours and anyone else who believes it is gross, immoral, and just plain wrong. 🤷‍♀️ It’s as simple as that.

Anakin WAS taught to understand, accept and manage his emotions correctly. That’s LITERALLY what “control” means: MANAGING your emotions so you don’t lash out at people in your anger, which is what the Jedi always warned their members against doing. The only difference here is that you just don’t agree with their beliefs, and are inadvertently portraying them as a culture who “suppresses” their emotions, when from the movies and TCW show it’s obvious that you and anyone who has this opinion is wrong. 🤷‍♀️ There are literally scenes that show it’s about being MINDFUL of your emotions so you don’t let them control you. Not to pretend they don’t exist. Anakin had all of these Jedi teachings available to him. The only difference is that he thought he was above the rules and that they didn’t apply to him. All of which eventually bit him in the ass, because he refused to listen to anyone and be told “no” without getting angry.

Qui-Gon was kind to Anakin, and Anakin had a fondness for him, but it is NOT canon that if Qui-Gon lived Anakin wouldn’t have fallen. That’s just a fanon theory that fans pretend is canon. You know how I know this? Because if you look it up, George Lucas straight up SAYS in interviews that Qui-Gon living wouldn’t have changed anything for Anakin not falling to the Dark Side. The “Duel of the Fates” is just what the song writer titled the song as a metaphor for the fight between light and darkness, but that doesn’t mean that because Qui-Gon died it was impossible for Anakin to grow a brain and a conscience and make choices of his own. GL literally knows better, because he’s the writer, which is what SW fans always say, right? Because anyone that believes that Qui-Gon dying “sealed Anakin’s fate” is simply using it as another copout/excuse for Anakin’s actions to pretend like all of his choices weren’t his own fault. Obi-Wan was a fine teacher for Anakin, and just because he wasn’t perfect didn’t mean he “failed” him. The truth is that Obi-Wan did everything he could, but Anakin refused to accept Obi-Wan’s help half the time. That’s on him and nobody else. He failed Obi-Wan. Not the other way around. Obi-Wan only thinks he “failed” Anakin out of misplaced guilt because he’s a better person than Anakin could ever hope to be who actually felt guilt for his actions, when Anakin in turn during that time at least felt nothing but entitlement and anger towards friends who wouldn’t join him on the Dark Side.

Dooku also doesn’t have any room to talk. He might’ve noticed corruption in the Senate, but the second Dooku joined the Sith and the Separatists and started helping enslave planets and killing people, he lost all credibility and became a big old hypocrite, just like Anakin became after ROTS.

So far, every single opinion you have given is just one excuse after another for Anakin’s actions to try and put the blame on someone else (usually the victims of his genocidal atrocities). And all of them are incorrect and immoral and wrong. 🤷‍♀️ Because half of it is genocide apologia or trying to twist Anakin’s actions from killing the younglings as “benevolent mercy”, when that is obviously WRONG and the biggest copout I have ever heard in my life. You also try to excuse Dooku’s actions, which is also wrong, because Dooku is a literal war criminal at the end of ROTS, so all of his opinions mean squat at that point, because he’d become the very thing he’d hated at that point, just like Anakin would eventually come to be from his own shitty choices. Therefore, every single thing you have brought up is not “facts.” It is simply an opinion that has become huge in fandom spaces because people like Anakin’s character and are biased against him and want to pretend he was a “poor little guy” who couldn’t make decisions, when it is clear there were a million other decisions he could’ve made.

I will then bring this around back to my original point: Leia Organa is not a “brat” for choosing not to forgive someone who was once one of the biggest monsters in the galaxy who TORTURED her (her own flesh and blood FATHER) just because Anakin might’ve had a hard childhood or a few people “being mean to him.” She doesn’t owe him anything, because specifically everything that had gone wrong in the galaxy up to that point was ANAKIN’S fault, and it is the LEAST he can do to kill Palpatine and fix it, so she doesn’t owe him anything for him killing the Emperor either. It’s great Luke found it in his heart to forgive Anakin, but it will NEVER be acceptable to call Leia a “bad person” for not forgiving Anakin, who is canonically the space Hitler (proven) of the Star Wars galaxy. She doesn’t owe him shit, and again: Anakin is lucky she didn’t spit on his grave.

Again: this doesn’t mean I hate Anakin’s character. But unlike you, when I like a character, I don’t need to excuse their every action to pretend they are “poor little guys.” Anakin was a horrible monster for most of his life, but I’m still GLAD he found salvation and peace in the afterlife. But he did NOT deserve it. He deserved to be condemned to the farthest pits of Hell, and I am under no delusions about that. He’s lucky the people around him (Luke, Yoda, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka) are far better people than he ever was while he was alive and were able to find it in their hearts to offer him forgiveness, because he never showed them that same kindness or grace, and obviously didn’t deserve their love or loyalty. It makes it all the more saintly that they gave it to him.

You’re correct that I said earlier I didn’t want to continue this conversation because I feel like we’re going in circles. But if you’ll recall, I also stated if you kept messaging me then I would respond to the best of my abilities.

My final message to you on my points is the one I left before and also this following one, and then I will wish you farewell, considering we’re obviously never going to agree. Maybe someday someone will come across this thread and read my thoughts and see the logic in not believing genocide apologia is the theme of a CHILDREN’S series about hope. Either way, the conversation is basically finished. I’m not going to repeat everything I have said that discredits your points again, as nothing I’ve said has gotten through to you apparently. The reason in my last message I brought my point back around to Leia not being what you call a “brat” is because that was the original reason I replied to you to begin with. The other stuff in this final comment you send about Leia “owing” Anakin for her birth, which is why she “owes” him forgiveness is also wrong as well for all of the reasons I stated earlier. The parent argument is just another excuse because Anakin was a deadbeat dad. Lots of kids write off their terrible parents every day.

Every other thing you bring up about the Jedi and Mace and the Council has already been refuted by my points earlier to show them as incorrect, even if you don’t agree. The final thing is of course you repeating Anakin has no agency and shouldn’t be blamed because the Force had a “plan”, but again, I’ve already proven in my earlier messages that type of immoral and genocide apologia argument about it being his “destiny” to genocide the Light Side is wrong, because—again—Star Wars is a CHILDREN’S series at the end of the day, and it is completely illogical and absurd that “genocide is good, actually!” is the main theme of a CHILDREN’S trilogy about hope.

I will respond to you no further now. I am satisfied with the points I have made debunking your claims, and will definitely come back to this as a reference if I need to debate someone in the future. I will only leave you with a vague thanks that things managed to stay mostly civil besides us calling each other “strange”. But then again, I know we were both probably getting annoyed. Still, it’s a rare thing to have a mostly polite debate on the internet, so I’ll give credit where credit’s due. 👍 Goodbye, and hope your day is well.

As you can see, there’s a lot of genocide apologia in this guy’s arguments (literally disgusting), and there were times I got a little snippy (it gets frustrating defending genocide survivors over and over), but for the most part, I tried to be polite, because I wanted all my points to remain strong. If you are willing to listen to my perspective, I think you can admit some of his arguments echo your own, even if you’re obviously not as blunt and frankly gross about it as him.

Take the show The Acolyte, and how it’s supporters argue that it’s only “critiquing” the Jedi and showing them as “flawed”, which is what you wanted to get at when you sent this ask, no? To “make sure that in discussing the Jedi we remember the good and bad.” Well, my response is… why is that needed? You’ve seen all my points and examples about how being anti Jedi is the larger fandom opinion and how Order 66 is quietly thought to be partly “their fault”, which is literally one of the grossest opinions to have and I’ll never sugarcoat that. So, why is it NEEDED to point out their “flaws” with every post on how they didn’t deserve their genocide? Why does that matter? Why can’t it just be agreement: the Jedi didn’t deserve to be slaughtered like animals? Why is it “oh, but we must remember that they were flawedddd and complacenttttt. 😔💔 After all, if only they just hadn’t been mean to poor Anakinnnn. Then he wouldn’t have been ‘forced’ to help murder them all. 😔💔” Like… do you not HEAR how condescending that sounds? 😭🤷‍♀️🤦‍♀️

Why do the Jedi have to be the “perfect victims” for fans, otherwise they either “deserved what they got” or were “arrogant” and “brought it on themselves?” Why aren’t the MURDERERS/BETRAYERS blamed for the collapse of a galaxy (Anakin and Palpatine), when THEY were the ones responsible and who pulled the trigger? The point is that it’s frankly just weird how much certain fans bring up that “oh, don’t forget they were flawedddd! 🤪🤪🤪” on a post that is mourning the loss of their culture. I promise you that your “special little blorbos” Kanan and Ahsoka (the REAL her that hasn’t become Filoni’s mouthpiece) would probably not enjoy the way you describe them as “oh, but YOU’RE one of the good ones!” And I say that with all the politeness I can manage.

Funnily enough, the writer of The Acolyte, LH, kind of echoes your sentiments, which just aren’t as “benevolent” as you may genuinely believe. In her show, there’s no DEPTH or honestly real THEMES of SW put into the show. It’s all flipped around to the Dark Side being “liberating”, which is so far from true it’s literally laughable. 😭😒 And I’m getting ticked off that when genuine criticism from pro jedi fans come up, somebody just HAS to say—“This show is just portraying the Jedi as not perfect! 😌” 😬😤🫠 And I swear I’m gonna lose it one day, because it portrays the Jedi as more than imperfect. It portrays them as emotionally repressed, barely competent “space cops”. 🙄 (Fucking HATE that term antis use for them so much, because it’s what they argue about saying the Jedi ‘deserved’ their genocide because they’re an ‘institution’ and not a “real” family. 😬😬🤬🤬 Ohhhh, I’m gonna go off on someone one day. Lol.) And these are just my frustrations. It’s not personally directed at you at the moment, anon. It’s just me kind of venting all my thoughts on this post.

I even had a fairly decent comment on my tumblr post about my critique of The Acolyte from a fan trying to save it, and they basically said the same thing and that it’s from the Sith perspective so it’s skewed. But it’s not. 😭😭 Because the showrunner’s views literally mirror the villain’s and then they become her mouthpieces. The show is completely anti Jedi while trying to pretend in a condescending way that it’s only Jedi critical in a way like—“Ah, those poor little culty Jedi. 😔😔💔 Some had good hearts… but their culture doomed them to be wiped out… 😔💔” 😒🙄😤🤬

I just… fucking HATE that show. 😭 SO much. And I know certain fans loved it, so I apologize if people enjoyed at least certain parts, but I’ve read a tumblr post that broke down the show really well and how hollow it is. The characters barely have time to interact and get to know one another before they’re all killed off (Yord and Jecki and Sol, who were fan favorites), until only Osha and Quimir remain—because at the end of the day, THAT’S what this whole stupid show was about. 😭🤦‍♀️ It was about a Reylo fanfic writer getting to play in her sandbox.

Anyway, my point is I don’t think you’re “anti Jedi”, anon. I think you’re “Jedi critical”, yes. But not in the benevolent way you believe. I think you are unknowingly being benevolently condescending in the way The Acolyte tries to be by saying, “Ooohhh, those poor, culty Jedi. 💔😔😔😔 If only they weren’t so emotionally repressed like robots (dehumanization)… maybe then they could’ve changed their culture so they didn’t have to be ‘cleansed’ for a ‘better galaxy’. 😔💔💔” It’s just… stuff like that. 😭🤷‍♀️🤦‍♀️ Which is… SO exhausting for us pro Jedi fans to hear over and over and over like it’s a valid take, when it’s just really not. But I wanted to explain my thoughts in a way I hope was mostly polite. I probably sound a little bit snippy, but it’s just because I’m frustrated at having to defend genocide victims again. That’s all.

I guess I would just… encourage you to rethink your thoughts? Because when you take into account what the Sith/Empire represent (Nazis) and then what the Jedi genocide is a metaphor of… your ‘argument’ looks less and less cute. 🤷‍♀️😭 I’m just saying. Some may not like me comparing it to real life, but there are plenty of Asian fans/aroace fans/Jewish fans that heavily relate to the Jedi for this very reason, and I refuse to allow their opinions to be silenced, because fiction is for everyone, and SW has ALWAYS been political, which means it’s literally MADE to be compared to real life.

Anyway, I hope this long meta post maybe changed some minds, if not your own. I’m gonna leave links to other big pro Jedi blogs that have better and more organized meta posts than me about this stuff, where they go in depth explaining how the Jedi are the good guys and how what happened in the Prequels was never about “the genocide victims are in the wrong, actually!” and was more about the SENATE becoming corrupt and rotting democracy from the inside out, which made it so easy for Palpatine to slither into power. 10,000 Jedi aren’t gonna easily change that. But the politicians CAN. They were just too selfish to do so. The Senate/Sith are the real villains of the Prequel trilogy. Not the Jedi (literal genocide victims). Anything less than viewing it like this is just… wrong. 😭🤷‍♀️

Here are the big Pro Jedi meta blogs I talked about:

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@shoniwake

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