For allbingo
Mar. 20th, 2021 01:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladyofleithianTitle: Talented
Summary: A look at the Sequel Trilogy from the point of view of an autistic Rey.
Prompt: Free Space — Autism or Asperger's Syndrome
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author’s Notes: I’m autistic myself. I mostly drew on my experiences being autistic as well as stuff I read in Autism In Heels (which I highly recommend for anyone on the spectrum identifying as female) for this.
Jakku was quiet. Rey could get used to the quiet, at least. Well, the desert was quiet, and inside a Star Destroyer scavenging for parts was quiet, at least at bare minimum. There was something about being so terribly high up in a Star Destroyer, clinging to a rope, that was enough to exhilarate Rey, even despite the circumstances. It was probably the most exciting thing about scavenging. That and being able to fix things. There was something about those parts of scavenging she liked, even though she didn’t like the fact that she had to scavenge and only get measly portions in return.
Measly. That was the part she didn’t like at all. Even returning to her AT-ST in the night, hoping that she could at least survive the night (of course, going to bed hungry was nothing really new), Rey did wish for something more. Perhaps her parents would come back someday. They had to. They’d promised.
“Rey, my love, be brave!”
That was what her mother had said. Rey wondered what she had to be brave for, actually.
***
Infectious. That was the best way to describe how others’ emotions could be to Rey. When BB-8 needed her, despite her initial reluctance (she had just been so used to being alone), she let him come with her. When Finn told her about being a stormtrooper, despite herself, she couldn’t be angry that he’d lied to her. (Well, not lied. Improvised, without a doubt) When Kylo Ren was inside her mind...well, she hated him, at first, but there had been certain elements to him where she had seen glimpses of where he came from. Who would want to give it all up just for this sort of life?
Why would he kill his own father? After all, his father obviously loved him, gave a damn about him. Why would Kylo just throw that away?
Her tendency to want to help only got worse. Maybe that had been the part that had bitten her in the arse when she’d heard more about Kylo’s past. About a man he knew, named Poe. About his family. About his loneliness, and him wondering what exactly had been so horrible about him that Luke had wanted to kill him.
It occurred to Rey that she was at least feeling sorry for him. She knew it would only hurt her in the end; she wasn’t stupid. But she sat in the Falcon, with a broken lightsaber post-Crait, and spoke with Leia.
“I shouldn’t have felt sorry for him,” she said. “I suppose...I felt this certain pull to him. This need to help. I’ve felt it with just about everyone. Droids, humans, alien species, everyone...”
She noticed Leia’s wince. Then, “It’s not your fault, Rey,” Leia said. “You‘re like Poe, in a way.” Rey wondered, absently, if she and Poe had anything in common. He was loud and vibrant and loved the galaxy wholeheartedly, almost without hesitation.
Maybe that wholehearted love was something Rey had in common with Poe.
Leia seemed to sense what she was thinking, because she said, “You haven’t met Poe on his best days. You’ll see.”
Maybe she hadn’t met Kylo Ren on his best days either.
***
Brilliant. That was something Rey just knew she had — it was something that she knew she had fixing the Falcon, dueling Kylo, things like that. Leia, in contrast to Luke, praised her when she had done well, all but gushing over her.
Sometimes, Rey thought, she was afraid. People thought they knew her: capable, brilliant Rey. Was brilliant all she was, she wondered. If she was so brilliant, why did she only see what she needed to see with Kylo? Why couldn’t she fight off Snoke?
“You’re more than brilliant,” Leia assured her. “You are brilliant, but that’s not the only thing that defines you. You’re kind, you’re funny, you’re passionate. You have so much to give, Rey, and I don’t think people should just value you for your mind...even though you have a beautiful mind.
(When Luke told her about why Leia trained her, about how she’d seen Rey’s spirit and heart, Rey found that she believed it. Because Leia had seen everything. Because she hadn’t just seen Rey as a brain. Kylo had. Unkar Plutt had. Snoke had. But not Leia)
***
It seemed that everything in Rey’s life had led her to this point, she thought as she stepped on the platform that led her down to the lowest level of Exegol. She could remember. Her mother, her vibrant, wonderful mother, who had been autistic along with Rey, and her father, troubled and kind all at once. She had them with her, in a way, as she went to face her grandfather, even if she could not see them. She knew the Jedi were out there too, somewhere.
Now...now she just needed to do what had to be done. Face her grandfather. She found she couldn’t hate him, for she couldn’t hate anybody, not even him.
She just knew that she had to do what had to be done. And she knew her parents would give her strength to do it.
Summary: A look at the Sequel Trilogy from the point of view of an autistic Rey.
Prompt: Free Space — Autism or Asperger's Syndrome
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author’s Notes: I’m autistic myself. I mostly drew on my experiences being autistic as well as stuff I read in Autism In Heels (which I highly recommend for anyone on the spectrum identifying as female) for this.
Jakku was quiet. Rey could get used to the quiet, at least. Well, the desert was quiet, and inside a Star Destroyer scavenging for parts was quiet, at least at bare minimum. There was something about being so terribly high up in a Star Destroyer, clinging to a rope, that was enough to exhilarate Rey, even despite the circumstances. It was probably the most exciting thing about scavenging. That and being able to fix things. There was something about those parts of scavenging she liked, even though she didn’t like the fact that she had to scavenge and only get measly portions in return.
Measly. That was the part she didn’t like at all. Even returning to her AT-ST in the night, hoping that she could at least survive the night (of course, going to bed hungry was nothing really new), Rey did wish for something more. Perhaps her parents would come back someday. They had to. They’d promised.
“Rey, my love, be brave!”
That was what her mother had said. Rey wondered what she had to be brave for, actually.
***
Infectious. That was the best way to describe how others’ emotions could be to Rey. When BB-8 needed her, despite her initial reluctance (she had just been so used to being alone), she let him come with her. When Finn told her about being a stormtrooper, despite herself, she couldn’t be angry that he’d lied to her. (Well, not lied. Improvised, without a doubt) When Kylo Ren was inside her mind...well, she hated him, at first, but there had been certain elements to him where she had seen glimpses of where he came from. Who would want to give it all up just for this sort of life?
Why would he kill his own father? After all, his father obviously loved him, gave a damn about him. Why would Kylo just throw that away?
Her tendency to want to help only got worse. Maybe that had been the part that had bitten her in the arse when she’d heard more about Kylo’s past. About a man he knew, named Poe. About his family. About his loneliness, and him wondering what exactly had been so horrible about him that Luke had wanted to kill him.
It occurred to Rey that she was at least feeling sorry for him. She knew it would only hurt her in the end; she wasn’t stupid. But she sat in the Falcon, with a broken lightsaber post-Crait, and spoke with Leia.
“I shouldn’t have felt sorry for him,” she said. “I suppose...I felt this certain pull to him. This need to help. I’ve felt it with just about everyone. Droids, humans, alien species, everyone...”
She noticed Leia’s wince. Then, “It’s not your fault, Rey,” Leia said. “You‘re like Poe, in a way.” Rey wondered, absently, if she and Poe had anything in common. He was loud and vibrant and loved the galaxy wholeheartedly, almost without hesitation.
Maybe that wholehearted love was something Rey had in common with Poe.
Leia seemed to sense what she was thinking, because she said, “You haven’t met Poe on his best days. You’ll see.”
Maybe she hadn’t met Kylo Ren on his best days either.
***
Brilliant. That was something Rey just knew she had — it was something that she knew she had fixing the Falcon, dueling Kylo, things like that. Leia, in contrast to Luke, praised her when she had done well, all but gushing over her.
Sometimes, Rey thought, she was afraid. People thought they knew her: capable, brilliant Rey. Was brilliant all she was, she wondered. If she was so brilliant, why did she only see what she needed to see with Kylo? Why couldn’t she fight off Snoke?
“You’re more than brilliant,” Leia assured her. “You are brilliant, but that’s not the only thing that defines you. You’re kind, you’re funny, you’re passionate. You have so much to give, Rey, and I don’t think people should just value you for your mind...even though you have a beautiful mind.
(When Luke told her about why Leia trained her, about how she’d seen Rey’s spirit and heart, Rey found that she believed it. Because Leia had seen everything. Because she hadn’t just seen Rey as a brain. Kylo had. Unkar Plutt had. Snoke had. But not Leia)
***
It seemed that everything in Rey’s life had led her to this point, she thought as she stepped on the platform that led her down to the lowest level of Exegol. She could remember. Her mother, her vibrant, wonderful mother, who had been autistic along with Rey, and her father, troubled and kind all at once. She had them with her, in a way, as she went to face her grandfather, even if she could not see them. She knew the Jedi were out there too, somewhere.
Now...now she just needed to do what had to be done. Face her grandfather. She found she couldn’t hate him, for she couldn’t hate anybody, not even him.
She just knew that she had to do what had to be done. And she knew her parents would give her strength to do it.
