#also I don’t think the present thing translates well but the absolute relish when he says ‘yes for my birthday’ is incredible
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Things in Sherlock and co that make me get weird looks on the tube because I can’t contain myself
Lots of love, Sherlock Holmes
Who is called Jonk??
No shit Sherlock
The bag for life debacle
“Lestrade has very kindly sent these on. What she lacks in intelligence and any discernable talent required to be an officer, she’d makes up for in kindness” “She sent these to you for your birthday” “I suspect for two reasons. First, the case makes very little sense to Scotland Yard which isn’t surprising, and second, yes, for my birthday”
John losing it over the cardboard box title
The horse is the fucking masked singer!
According to Watson’s geographical breakdown I live in the bumcheeks of the uk
#I think lots of love is when I fell in love with this podcast the combination of the crescendoed classical music and absolute a* pettiness#in sherlocks voice was a winning combination#for some reason it’s giving pink glitter pen with kisses underneath and I’m so here for this image#also I don’t think the present thing translates well but the absolute relish when he says ‘yes for my birthday’ is incredible#anyway I binged this in a week and now have to wait a weeks between episodes and I have no clue what I’m going to listen to when I want to#knit my sock rip#sherlock and co#sherlock & co
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(未定事件簿) EVENT!「异乡行歌·上篇」
[Tears of Themis] EVENT: Romantic Rail Getaway- First Half Translations (Lu Jinghe’s Route)
Day 1: Xiangya City― Rainforest Invitation
(象雅城: 雨林的邀约)
*Tears of Themis Masterlist / Mobile Masterlist
*Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut
*The tracking tag for ALL Event Stories will go under: #Tears of an Event
Location: Railway Tour's Starting Station
I'd once heard of the saying, that Tanbuyani's Railway Tour was equivalent to a silken string of pearls.
Guided by this silken thread, one will be able to experience and relish in the charm of the very country itself.
Lu Jinghe: I've looked at the train route, and it looks like the first stop's at Xiangya City.
Lu Jinghe: How about we head on down to their resort and have a look around later? Let's not wear ourselves out too much on our first day here, save some energy, and take our time to slowly enjoy everything after!
MC: Okay! I saw on the guide that there was a very big folk custom workshop down at the resort; do you want to try your hand at wood carving?
Lu Jinghe: I'll accompany you if you want to.
We happily carried on, discussing our trip arrangements.
The rest of the guests, in front of the train platform, were also anticipating what was to come in the wonderful journey up ahead, just like us.
Speaking of this trip, Lu Jinghe was actually the one who brought it up first.
☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆
Location: Home
Lu Jinghe: Heya, sis. You're on a long vacation as of late, yes? Have you got any travel plans?
MC: Hm… I haven't really thought of it. Come hit me up again after I get a couple of snoozes!
Lu Jinghe: How about considering going on Tanbuyani's Railway Tour with me after you've caught enough z's?
Lu Jinghe: It's a boutique, luxurious, high-end, independent tour; with a travel itinerary planned and presented to you by PAX's Chairman himself!
MC: Tanbuyani? Why do you suddenly want to go there out of the blue?
This name, one that I'd only seen in geography books, filled me with utter confusion.
Tanbuyani was a small country located near the equator, but although it boasted stunningly breath-taking sceneries, it's economy was well underdeveloped.
No matter how I thought about it, going to this sort of remote location wouldn't be his first choice at all.
Lu Jinghe: For work, of course. PAX has invested in a rainforest development project over there, so I'm preparing to head down and have a look at it for myself.
Lu Jinghe: And while I'm at it… I can bring you along for you to have fun, kick back and relax for a few days.
MC: I see. Maybe I'll think about it...
Lu Jinghe: Nope, stop thinking about it and just go pack your luggage. I'll come pick you up to the airport tomorrow, bye!
☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆
Lu Jinghe's actions were swift, and we were already aboard a private plane bound for Tanbuyani on the second day.
Upon landing, we were immediately transferred to the starting station of the Railway Tour; he'd arranged everything to perfection.
It was just as he said. This was a relaxing, yet intriguing trip, where anticipation ran high.
MC: Right, didn't you say back in the phone call we had before that you're here because of a… Rainforest project?
Lu Jinghe: Yup. PAX plans on establishing a nature reserve in the Imana Rainforest and study the "Parrot Tail Flower”.
MC: Parrot Tail Flower?
Lu Jinghe: A rare flower of medicinal value that one of our people coincidentally discovered back when they came down here to talk about the conservation project.
MC: ...That sounds like the sort of miraculous life-saving celestial grass you hear about in myths and legends.
Lu Jinghe: Perhaps; but I'm not too sure about the specifics either.
Lu Jinghe: The person in charge of the project will be picking us up when we reach Xiangya City, so you can ask him more about it then.
MC: ...There's PAX personnel in Xiangya City?
Lu Jinghe: He's there on business today, so I called him up for a chat, and so that I can have a grasp on how the project's progressing while I'm at it. It's called being prepared for anything and everything.
The sides of his lips curled upwards, a clear smile flashing across his eyes.
Lu Jinghe: Okay, enough about this. Let's think about how we're going to have a happy and delightful lunch aboard the train first.
Lu Jinghe: The train's restaurant serves Tanbuyani's local delicacies, as well as a delicious, mouth-watering buffet of western food; what do you want to eat?
MC: Mm…
Since I'm already here and all, it's only logical to try out their local delicacies…
But then, I remembered just what those "local delicacies" are, from back when I was checking out the guide.
Things like grilled rainforest ants, stuffed cicada pupae, roasted scorpions… If it just so happens that those atop the plate that the waiter brings up later were...
Do I really want to challenge myself with them?
▷Choice: Western food buffet
MC: I’m getting the western food buffet.
Lu Jinghe: Sure thing. I'll go book us a luxurious buffet then; we'll be able to partake in it once we board the train later.
Lu Jinghe: But… Are you sure you don’t want to try Tanbuyani’s local delicacies?
Lu Jinghe: I heard that there's a type of Black bean-orange Fried Rice that's really delicious; one of the 10 special delicacies that's an absolute must have for tourists!
MC: I do want to, actually… But it'd be a tragedy if something… weird's in the food...
Lu Jinghe: You do have a point. We're not in a hurry, so we can take it slow and observe the tables of the other guests who've ordered it.
Lu Jinghe: And then, we can still make it in time for the order if you want to eat them afterwards.
MC: Okay, let's just happily leave it as that for now!
▷Choice: Local delicacies
MC: Oh, I've decided! I want to try Tanbuyani's local delicacies!
MC: The guide on the internet said that the Black bean-orange Fried Rice available on the train's menu is an absolute must have! And everyone who ate it all said that it's good!
MC: Want to order one together with me?
Lu Jinghe: Let me tell you a secret. Actually… I was about to recommend you the same, but I never thought you'd be the one to take the words out of my mouth.
Lu Jinghe: I guess our hearts really are connected!
His brows were quirked in a smile, and he appeared "quite proud" of himself.
I couldn't resist teasing him a little.
MC: Are you absolutely sure about your decision? There'll be no going back if it doesn't taste all that nice.
Lu Jinghe: Come on, have more confidence in yourself! We have to believe that our choice is the right one!
His eyebrows crooked along with a smile, and I could almost smell the fragrance of the sweet and aromatic orange rice just by looking into his eyes.
MC: I can't wait to try it out for myself already!
☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆
"Chooo…", went the long whistle of the train's horn as it slowly drew up to the platform.
Lu Jinghe stood up, dragging both of our big luggage in tow with a wink.
Lu Jinghe: Come on then. Our rainforest adventure is going to begin!
MC: Yeah! Here we go!!
☆⋅⋆…⋅───── ⋆⋅ Romantic Rail Getaway⋅⋆ ────⋅…⋆⋅☆
Next Part: (Day 1: Xiangya City― Resort Entertainment Area)
#Tears of Themis#Translations#Otome#Mihoyo#未定事件簿#陆景和#Lu Jinghe#异乡行歌#Romantic Rail Getaway#Tears of an Event
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So since Tyrian's arrest screen didn't list everything he was wanted for, what else do you think he did? My brother thinks arson, I think more along the lines of torture.
It’d probably be easier to ask, “What crimes didn’t he commit?”
I think you’re both right. Arson and torture seem like equally valid possibilities, but they’d have to be the result of context and circumstance. On one hand, Tyrian always struck me as someone that’s adaptive, flexible, and capable of improvisation, which is why I doubt he’d be averse to either. On the other hand, Tyrian appears to have a modus operandi—speed and stealth. Like most Faunus, seeing in the dark (presumably with tapeta lucida, the eyeshine a lot of nocturnal and crepuscular animals have) affords him an advantage many of his victims lack. That, coupled with his stinger, sets him up by default for a very specific tactic: hit-and-run assassinations. Catch your target off-guard, deliver the killing blow, then melt back into the shadows before anyone’s the wiser. Fire lacks discretion, and torture involves prolonged interaction with the victim (which increases the odds of him getting caught, as time/duration would be proportionate to the risk of being discovered).
If a situation called for it (like setting a car on fire in order to distract pursuers), or he was contracted to complete a specific job (like torturing someone for information), then I could definitely see him committing arson and torture. But if he’s recreationally killing, then I think it’s more likely that he’d indulge in his preferred repertoire, envenomation and stabbing.
The nice thing about his criminal record being truncated (with a “see attachment for more details” appended to the file) with multiple redacted sections is that it leaves a lot of room for speculation. Bear in mind that much of this is either conjectural with little supporting evidence, or my personal headcanons.
One of the things that I found interesting about Tyrian’s character was his reverence of Salem. “Goddess” isn’t just an affectionate title or a term of endearment—he literally apotheosizes her. Compare that to how his teammates interact with her. While they treat her with respect, none of them use the same venerating language as Tyrian (“Your Grace,” “my lady,” “our divine savior,” “our goddess”). This tells us that his worship of her isn’t the norm amongst her followers, which also means that he has a reason for doing it.
Personally, I’ve never been a fan of labelling people who commit heinous crimes as crazy or insane—not only because it implicates nonviolent mentally ill and neurodivergent people, and scapegoats them for the actions of others—but because in this instance, it robs Tyrian of the complexity that comes with rationalizing one’s choices. Tyrian’s decision to deify Salem shouldn’t stem from some sort of psychopathology, but rather a logical, personal, or historical precedent.
Let’s reverse-engineer this thought process:
Tyrian worships Salem.
Salem (in Tyrian’s eyes) is the extreme embodiment, manifestation, or expression of cathartic violence.
Tyrian worships this form of violence.
And what else in RWBY’s universe embodies those traits?
The Creatures of Grimm.
So, with that in mind, let’s talk about all the illegal things Tyrian’s done over the course of his life, and more specifically, why.
Archotherolatry: This is a term I coined for my RWBY worldbuilding blog. If you break down the etymology, archotherian (Greek - ruling beast, the scientific term for Grimm) + -latry (Late Latin - worship of), it translates to “the worship of Grimm.” The practice was outlawed by the King of Vale (King Ozark) after the Great War. While the decision was rooted in common sense—like, you really don’t want people to see the Grimm as gods for fairly obvious reasons—Ozark had ulterior motives for outlawing it. You see, Ozark was one of Ozma’s incarnations, and the immediate predecessor of Ozpin. While archotherolatry had been falling out of favor over the last few centuries, it was still a religion with a presence in certain corners of Remnant. Salem used to recruit these cultists directly into her ranks. By making the practice illegal, Ozma was hoping to cut off a potential source of followers.
Prior to meeting Salem, Tyrian was one of the surviving few practitioners of the faith. Not only that, but he had a particular mania about it. Grimm worship in Remnant changed depending on where in the world you went, but one of the recurring practices involved human sacrifice. Now, while Tyrian didn’t subscribe to any specific holy doctrine and wasn’t a member of any secret groups, he did adhere to certain rites and ceremonies. He savored the taking of lives, but even more than that, he enjoyed offering up his victims to the Grimm. During the months that Pickerel spent hunting him down, his trails would often lead him to secluded areas outside cities or towns. There he’d often find a large ornately-detailed circle on the ground painted with blood, with the tattered corpse of the victim lying in the center. The surrounding trees and rocks would sport eye-like patterns drawn in blood, similar to the patterns seen on the bony white protrusions on a Grimm’s body.
When selecting potential victims, Tyrian didn’t discriminate. Gender, age, nationality, race, economic background—they all bleed red, so it didn’t matter. Not technically, anyway. That wasn’t to say he didn’t enjoy abducting business owners that were prejudiced against Faunus, or that he didn’t find ironic humor in sacrificing Huntsmen to the Grimm. He just wasn’t particularly choosy about who he sacrificed.
In a similar vein, I think this is how Salem first learned about Tyrian’s existence. Whenever her scouts or sentries returned to Evernight and reported in, they’d inform her about a man that would drag people into the woods and invite the Grimm to feast upon them. This possibility excited Salem for several reasons: not only was he predisposed to loyalty to her, but the fact that he’d clearly been doing these sacrifices for some time meant he was talented. It took a lot of skill to kill so many people without being caught by the authorities. She needed an assassin, and he would do perfectly.
When Tyrian wasn’t feeding people to the Grimm, he probably murdered for sport. He thrilled in the hunt, in the dizzying slick of blood beneath his fingers, the intoxicating coppery smell, the beautiful song of his victims as they cried, begged, and screamed. Acts of violence honor the Grimm, but in addition to that, he simply relished in the joy of killing. And he was good at it.
Of course, sacrificial manslaughter doesn’t pay the bills, so Tyrian had a day job. Well, I say “day job,” but it was more along the lines of contract killer/thief/kidnapper/smuggler. Tyrian operated largely out of Mistral’s criminal underworld, particularly in the capital (though depending on the work he was doing, he’d travel to Wind Path or Kuchinashi). Potential clients sought him out and hired him for any number of jobs: collect the debt that this person owes me and kill them if they refuse to pay; abduct the member of this rival syndicate and bring them to these coordinates; assassinate someone for me, and bring back proof that they’re dead; transport this contraband (weapons, drugs, Dust) and ensure the shipment arrives safely; kill these people and destroy the evidence; capture this person and extract information from them by whatever means necessary; follow this person without being detected, and collect information about their routine. Although Tyrian preferred jobs that involved bloodshed, he’d still accept contracts for more mundane work (even if he found it somewhat boring). Tyrian didn’t have a ton of dealbreakers in terms of jobs, though he refused to do anything that involved sexual assault. (Even serial killers have standards.)
Destruction of public and private property was likely an unintended or indirect consequence of his work. As much as Tyrian enjoyed wanton carnage, he prided himself on being stealthy and thus had to exercise some level of restraint, so as to not leave behind damning evidence in the form of collateral damage. Breaking a window or kicking in a door is a liability. Accidentally setting off a Dust explosion is a good way for the authorities to track you. That being said, there were a few memorable occasions where Tyrian absolutely wrecked shit up. Perhaps the most noteworthy of these was the day that he was finally captured by Atlesian and Mistrali law enforcement. On the day of his arrest, Tyrian caused nearly 50,000 lien’s worth of property damage, including the destruction of three Paladins.
Tyrian’s name, while spoken among the criminal element, was unknown to the public. Even so, he garnered a reputation as Anima’s most infamous serial killer. People often referred to him by his title: The Ghost in the Mist. (Years later, a documentary by the same name was released. It was an hour-long production that detailed his activity in Mistral, all of his victims, an analysis of his signature, and other relevant or interesting trivia. It even featured an interview with Pickerel, prior to his death. Tyrian absolutely loves this documentary and has re-watched it several times.)
I’m sure there’s more that he’s done that I can’t think of presently, but hopefully this gives you a general idea of all the criminal activity I think he’s committed.
#rwby#rwby thought dump#tyrian callows#salem#f. pickerel#rwby worldbuilding#mistral black market#asks#the word count for this is 1500 words#consider this an act of penance on my part for not responding sooner#grimm#grimm worship#archotherolatry#i hope you liked some of these!#kittencowfrog#my posts#i speak#ozpin#ozma#king of vale
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The Ultimate Matchmaker x Hajime Hinata
WARNING: SFW at first, but will get NSFW because I, too, am thirsty for the orange juice man.
You were the Ultimate Matchmaker. You took much pride in your profession. It didn’t take much more than one conversation to understand just the right kind of match for someone. Several of your classmates at Hope’s Peak came to seek your advice. This boosted your confidence exponentially because some of your clients were...odd. Especially the one you were supposed to meet today.
This specific one left a note in your locker saying “MYSTIC WIZARD WIELDING POWERS OF EROS, MEET ME IN THE HOUSEHOLD OF OCCULT SCRIPTURES AT THE HOUR OF 4.”. It didn’t take you very long to figure out that this was Gundham Tanaka. You giggled at his exaggeration and shut your locker, suddenly meeting a familiar green-eyed gaze.
“Hajime...?”
Oh my lord, Hajime. As the Ultimate Matchmaker, you’d never really had many crushes. The ones you did barely lasted a day because once you stole a glance at them, your mind would automatically come up with a perfect match for them. And that match was always someone else. But for Hajime...he was interesting. Your mind couldn’t figure him out.
“Hey...(Y/N)...um, how have you been lately?”, he asked, clearly very nervous.
“Oh, I’ve been alright. Just life, you know? Gets tough every now and then,” you stated. Hajime always could tell when you weren’t telling the truth. You could’ve pretended you were enthusiastic, but you always felt extremely groggy after math class.
“Oh, I feel you, (Y/N). Today I got partnered with someone I really don’t like for a group project. I can’t even explain how tiring that is,” he sighed, clearly exhausted. “That’s enough about my boring day, though. My advice for you is to find ways to relax. Get a massage, go to the beach...do something for yourself, you know? You deserve it.”
“Do something for myself, huh?”, you wondered aloud. Oh you could do something alright. You could do that boy right in front of-
` “Yeah, of course. I’d be glad to help you come up with ideas. Everyone needs to unwind once in a while,” he said, softly smiling. The school bell interrupted your conversation, causing Hajime to jump. “Oh, um, I gotta go!
“See ya, Hajime!”, you exclaimed, waving energetically at him.
You were distracted the whole day. First off, you had to mentally prepare yourself to translate Gundham Tanaka, and secondly, Hajime. You could not stop thinking about him. Honestly, sometimes you creeped yourself out. But you just couldn’t help it. He was an enigma. A mystery. You had to know. Who was his match?
After your last class, you headed to the library and sat at a table, waiting for your client. “Nishishi...you tooootally fell right in to my trap!!!”, you heard a voice exclaim.
“K-Kokichi?!”, you screamed as you leapt out of your chair.
“Oh, you soooo thought it was Gundham! But that was a lie! Actually it wasn’t just a lie, no no no! It was a scheme, a plan, by a mastermind...to ask you out,” Kokichi whispered the last few words in your ear.
“Kokichi, um, I had no idea you felt that way, but...analyzing your personality, you’re a better match for-“
“Oh no no no, don’t misunderstand, Miss Matchmaker!”, Kokichi quickly interrupted. “I mean that a very very special someone asked me for advice on how to ask you out!”
“That’s a lie, Kokichi.”
“Neeheehee...that’s right! Actually, a certain Ultimate Supreme Leader was playing ‘Truth or Dare’ with some reserve course students, and...one of them likes you! And so I helped! By my own volition, of course!”, Kokichi was bouncing off the walls. “But that’s enough about that. Ladies and gentlemen, it is now time to present the man, the mystery, the mastermind, the...LOVER BOY...Hajime Hiiiiinata!!!!” Kokichi ran outside the library and proceeded to shove Hajime into the building, cackling all the way.
“Hajime!”, you exclaimed, a faint blush glowing on your cheeks. “U-um,”
“I’m so, so sorry (Y/N)! I tried to tell him not to get involved,” Hajime quickly interrupted whatever you were fixing to say.
“Hey, it’s alright, Hajime. If what Kokichi said was true...for once...then um, I like you too,” you said, looking him in the eye.
Hajime’s eyes widened. “Wh-wh-?!” Before both of you could process your feeling for each other, all of a sudden your lips met.
“KOKICHI!”
“Nee hee hee hee! I’m only trying to help- after all, Hajime is quoted as saying that a massage is a good way to relax, right? I don’t know, just an idea.”, Kokichi cackled as he strided out of the library.
To your surprise, Hajime simply looked you in the eye and says: “That’s not a half-bad idea.”
You simply grinned and took his hand. “Everyone does need to unwind once in a while.”
(NSFW AHEAD)
Before you could even assess whatever had happened with Kokichi, you were lying face down on one of the tables in the library. Hajime was gently rubbing on your shoulders and back as you got used to the feeling, waiting to really get going until you were comfortable.
You finally sighed and found a comfortable position. Almost immediately, Hajime’s thumbs were rubbing circles in the small of your back. You didn’t even realize that the old books, the long day, whatever problems you had faced...had all just melted away as he rubbed you. But. There was still something...missing.
A part of you longed to be more vulnerable. To completely open yourself up to him. But how exactly to...do that? And how exactly to ask? You stole a glance
at Hajime, god was he hot- “(Y/N)? Is there something the matter?”, he asked. This man didn’t miss a beat.
“N-no. Not really, um, it’s just-“, you blushed, trying to hide your face.
“Oh! Um, it’ll probably feel better if you take off your shirt, (Y/N),” he stated bluntly. I think he took the hint- WAIT WHAT?! Your shock was evident. “If you feel uncomfortable at all, I-I can just take mine off too.”. Oh no. If he took off his shirt I don’t know what I’ll-
“Yeah, that’s fine with me!”
What.
Whatever primal instinct had defied your logic’s attempts at keeping things PG...was strong. Like it had been waiting for centuries and centuries for someone to break down your walls- someone like Hajime Hinata. Usually you beat yourself up for just letting words fall out like that, but the moment skin touched skin any anxiety that had existed just disappeared like it was never there at all.
That was when he kissed your neck, making you gasp in surprise. That was the nail in the coffin. That was when you knew you were giving it all to Hajime- tonight. You flipped over onto your back to experience your first kiss, a passionate expedition like no trip you’d ever been on. You blushed and prepared to flip back onto your stomach, but Hajime stopped you. “Wait, (Y/N). The next place I want to massage is on this side, so...um...”. You immediately knew what he was implying.
You undid your bra clasp, throwing the uncomfortable piece of clothing into close distance to your schoolbag. Hajime immediately went to work on your breasts, gently rolling your nipple with his tongue. You let out a low moan, all inhibitions lost. You almost didn’t notice that he was playing with the zipper on your skirt. You sighed and closed your eyes, giving him the go-ahead to take it all off.
He then began to tease your thigh, slowly working his way up between your legs, driving you absolutely wild. You pulled down your undergarments, letting him tease you, barely even touching you with his fingers and still making you wetter than Niagara Falls. A tongue slowly licked you, making you moan out hais
name. As he began to speed up, you certainly let go of any reservations about being quiet in the library.
And then you noticed. “Um, Hajime;” you said, looking at the obvious arousal in his pants. You quickly sat up, palming him as you took off the rest of his clothes.
“Oh, (Y/N)...” he moaned. That was irresistible. “Next time, I’ll let you have at it all you want, but...I have just got to have you. Right now.”
Well, if that wasn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. Also...he mentioned a next time.
“Then take me,” you gasped. He quickly put a condom, and then slowly entered you, making sure you weren’t in any pain. Once he started moving, he went pretty fast, but not faster than you could handle. You matched his speed, relishing the moment until your vision started to blur and everything suddenly felt like it was taking place in the stars.
All that existed was him and you, breathing heavily as night began to fall. The last words said that night before you fell asleep in Hajime’s arms were “Hey Hajime. I have a little hunch that I’ve found the perfect match for you. On a completely unrelated note, I finally found someone who’s perfect for me.” You both giggled and fell asleep, letting calm overtake the both of you.
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Their Hero Academia – Chapter 58: An Exam Cometh!
Presenting the next raw and unedited chapter of my on-going, next-gen, My Hero Academia fic, Their Hero Academia!
Earlier chapters can be found here
There was a somewhat somber mood in the classroom as 1-A settled in Tuesday morning. The funeral yesterday had been the cap to a long week that stretched back to the Nomu attacks and had been a roller coaster for many of them ever since. But things looked to Isamu like they were finally getting back to normal. The class was back together again and even if they weren’t all up to their usual selves, they were getting there. Even Shinso had been in a slightly cheerier mood last night, joining him and Midoriya for a few rounds of Smash Fighters 3000 in Midoriya’s room.
The room fell into a hushed silence as Aizawa entered. They knew by this point not to screw around once he was there. Well, most of them did. He was pretty sure Mineta and Sero hadn’t gotten the same message as everybody else.
Aizawa stood at his podium for a moment before speaking. “Only three seconds to quiet down. An improvement.” His eyes swept the room and his face relaxed a fraction of a centimeter. “I know your Internship experiences were harrowing, but I’ve also had the opportunity to review the feedback your mentors provided, and you all acquitted yourselves well, even in the face of some concerns over discipline.” There was a glance reserved for Mineta and Sero again at that.
“However, that does not change the fact that your final exams will be in two weeks. Your subject exams will be the Monday through Thursday of that week, with the practical Heroics exam on Friday.”
That wasn’t a surprise, really. The dates for final exams had been in the syllabus on the first day of class. But that seemed like both yesterday and a lifetime ago. There was the phrase “time flies when you’re having fun”, but had the term really been fun? It seemed like much of it had been long moments of calm split by absolute and total panic.
Then again, in the time since that first day, he’d made friends, won the Sports Festival, interned with Deku, seen a monster, gotten a girlfriend…
Yeah, okay, there was some fun there.
Up in the front row, he saw Izumi raise her hand. Once Aizwa gave her permission to speak, she asked, “Will you be telling us any details of the exam, Sensei?” she asked.
A good question, and Isamu sat up a little straighter in his seat to listen. Regular final exams would be difficult enough—they weren’t kidding when they said U.A. was academically rigorous!—but he couldn’t imagine what the Heroics exam would be like.
And then something happened that sent a chill up Isamu’s spine. Aizawa… smiled. It wasn’t a normal person’s smile, but a rictus grin, and it looked deeply unsettling on his face. It was the smile of someone about to deliver a devastating smackdown onto a foe and take utter delight in doing it. A shrill scream split the air. It was Sero.
“Dude,” Sato said, “what was that?”
“He’s smiling!” Sero wailed. “We’re doomed! Dooooomed!”
“I’m too young to die!” Kaminari wailed.
“I’m too hot to die!” Mineta shrieked, joining in the wailing.
Even Midoriya, in the front row, seemed afraid. “Oh no, oh no, oh no, not good!”
Isamu felt his own heartbeat quicken, but he took a look to the opposite end of the row to decide what was the most appropriate reaction. Kirishima-Bakugo looked deadly serious, as opposed to her usual pissed off. And even she seemed slightly ill at ease at the prospects hidden behind that smile.
“Funny you should ask, Todoroki,” Aizawa said. “You all did an impressive job working together during the Sports Festival. I don’t know which one of you came up with it, but it was impressive tactical thinking. And since you all like working together, the teachers decided to change up some of the conditions of the Heroics exam.”
There was a mad glint in their teacher’s eyes now. “Either you all pass… or no one does.”
***
That night, Class 1-A gathered in the Common Room. As usual, Isamu sat on one of the couches with Shinso, Izumi, and Sora Iida. Midoriya and Tokoyami were at the front of their room, with a whiteboard. One of the other couches was occupied by Sero, Sato, Ojiro, and Tensei Iida. A third couch was occupied by Aoyama, Koda, Shoji, with Aoyama looking rather small compared to his two classmates. Mineta and Kaminari had pulled up chairs, while Kirishima-Bakugo stood behind the couch Isamu and the others were on, together with the class, but apart as always.
Most of them were chatting away, while Midoriya and Tokoyami, the Class Representatives (Yeah, that was definitely not a job he wanted.) tried to get everyone’s attention, unsuccessfully. “Hey!” Shinso shouted, putting just a little something into his voice to make it echo and pierce the noise. “Toshi and Asuka are trying to talk!”
That got everyone to quiet down.
“Sorry Mom and Dad,” Sero said. That got a laugh out of several people, until Kirishima-Bakugo moved to behind him and gave him a smack upside the head.
“Thank you, Shota,” Asuka said. Frog-Shadow was out again, sitting on her shoulder. “So we’ve got two things to discuss. The first is the formation of study groups for the subject area final exams. Math, Science, Literature, History, Science, and English.”
“We’re hoping to have someone who’s doing well in each class lead some study sessions or make themselves available to answer questions,” Midoriya said.
“We’re all going to die,” Ojiro wailed.
“Kimmie, it’s not that bad,” Sato tried to reassure her.
“This is just going to tank my grades, Kenta!”
“They couldn’t be any worse than mine, Kimmie,” Sero said, grinning.
She punched him in the arm. “That’s not something to be proud of, Takuma!”
“Hey, leave him alone,” Kaminari said. “He’s the only person who’s grades are worse than mine!”
“See,” Sero said, “when it comes to being the worse, I’m the best!”
Both of the Iida twins thrust their hands into the air. “We volunteer for science and math!” Sora Iida said.
Midoriya flushed a little at that. “Ah, actually, Sora, I was thinking maybe not you? Not that you aren’t smart! But, ah, you’re both a lot smarter than most of us. I don’t know if you could dumb it down?”
The hands went down. “That is… acceptable,” Sora said.
“We would not wish to hinder anyone’s progress,” Tensei agreed. “And we do have additional Support Class projects to complete.”
Reluctantly, Isamu put his hand up. “I can probably handle science,” he said. “It was mostly physics this term. I’m good at that.” He had to be, thanks to his Quirk. Knowing how much force to apply and where it was going to send him flying and how much he needed to break at a certain speed was vital.
“Excellent, thank you,” Tokoyami said. She handed her marker to Frog-Shadow, who looked at it curiously. “If you’d write that down?”
“Why me?”
“Because you asked to be more involved,” she replied, rolling her eyes.
“Oh, right!” Frog-Shadow bubbled, before flying off to write his name down.
Mineta stuck a hand in the air. “I can take English,” she said. “Vocab and translations, anyway. Grammar’s still a little weird.”
“I guess that works,” Midoriya said, though he didn’t look like he believed it. “Just… be on your best behavior, okay?”
“When am I not?”
“If that’s your best behavior, Horse-Girl, I’d hate to see you worst,” Kirishima-Bakugo growled.
“Allow me to provide what Mineta cannot,” Aoyama said. He looked pretty smug about it. Of course, everyone knew that he and Mineta didn’t get along. He was probably relishing an opportunity to show her up in something. “I am reasonably trilingual, after all, n'est-ce pas?”
“And I can take History,” Izumi volunteered.
“Great!” Midoriya said. “Now we’re getting somewhere…”
***
Eventually, they came back around to the subject of the Heroics final exam. Midoriya cleared his throat and looked a little red from embarrassment. “So, this is probably my fault, guys. The whole Sports Festival thing was my plan. Sorry I got us into this mess….”
“Oh, bullshit,” Kirishima-Bakugo said, causing all eyes to fall on her and Isamu to jump. “Maybe you threw some gas on the fire, Toshi, but you have to know Aizawa was planning something like this. Him and his “logical ruses.’” She crossed her arms and nodded, as if that explained everything.
“She does have a point, Toshi,” Izumi said.
“She does?” Midoriya asked, surprised. Then he looked over at Kirishima-Bakugo, who was glaring at him. “She does!”
“You couldn’t have known,” Isamu said. “And it was a good plan. I don’t know if I’d have won if you hadn’t gotten us that far.” If he’d had to race and fight at the same time, without Mineta watching his back (making innuendos the whole way), he doubted he would have done half as well.
But it wasn’t surprising that Midoriya thought it was his fault. The guy always seemed to fall into a pattern of trying to take care of all of them, which meant he was just as likely to try and shoulder all the blame.
“None of us blame you, Toshi,” Tokoyami insisted.
“Besides,” Isamu offered, “I talked to Kana over in 1-B…”
He was interrupted by Ojiro. “Did you hear that? He’s using her first name now! Squeeee! They’re getting closer!”
Okay, he was going to pretend he didn’t hear that. He really didn’t need to end up the topic of conversation on her web show. “As I was saying, I was talking to Kana and she says Super-Ball told 1-B the same thing. Only not as scary as Aizawa was. They’re pass or fail as a group too. She said Super-Ball said it was about building up their teamwork skills.”
“My friend, Mizuno, from 1-C said much the same thing,” Koda said. “Battle-Fist also emphasized the need for better teamwork.”
“Looks like you sparked a revolution, Midoriya,” Sero said, only to be silenced by a smack from Ojiro.
“Okay,” Midoriya said, nodding, taking a couple breaths to steady himself. “So sounds like it was something they were going to do anyway. Not my fault. Good. Then if the Heroics exam is going to be a pass/fail for everyone, we’re going to need a plan.”
“How are we going to do that?” Shoji asked. “We don’t know what form the exam will take.”
Midoriya nodded again, now in his element when a plan was required. “We don’t,” he agreed. “But we do know, whatever it is, it’s going to require us to work together and it’s going to be bigger than anything we’ve had tossed at us before now. That’s the only reasonable extrapolation of the pass/fail condition.”
“So that means,” he went on, “we need to train like we’ve never trained before. Until anybody here can work with anybody else.
“Right now,” Toshi finished, “it doesn’t matter who your best friend is.” He looked over at Sero, Ojiro, and Sato. “It doesn’t matter who you don’t get along with.” This look was given to Aoyama and Mineta. “Or how mad everyone might make you.” A look went out to Kirishima-Bakugo.
“Right now, we’re all in this together. We’re Class 1-A and we need to come together.”
Shinso let out a cheer and a clap. Even Isamu had to admit, he felt pretty inspired.
“Fancy speech, Toshi,” Kirishima-Bakugo said. “But you got a real plan to back it up?”
Midoriya looked a bit deflated at that. “Not entirely,” he admitted. “But Asuka and I were going to discuss some likely scenarios. If you want to help, you’re more than welcome.”
“Damn straight, I will. I’m not letting any of you pull me down with you. We’re gonna pass even if I have to kick your asses every inch of the way.”
Midoriya’s confidence returned. Even Isamu knew this was just her way. “Well, you heard her, people. We’re going to pass!”
Somehow, this became a rallying cry.
“We’re going to pass! PLUS UTLRA!”
***
Izumi’s room always reminded Chihiro of the fact that while she was extremely well off, Izumi’s family was so rich it practically made the word useless. There was a four poster bed, an ornate oak desk, wood paneling added to all the walls… even the desk lamp looked like it cost way more than things like that should. “Don’t touch anything,” she warned Mika.
Mika shot her a dirty look. “I’m not a child, Chi.”
“You’re not always graceful, Mika. Like a bull in a china shop.”
“That’s hurtful. And possibly racist”
Chihiro facepalmed at that. “I’d like to apologize for her in advance,” she said.
“Please, do not worry about it,” Izumi said, standing as they entered. “May I offer you tea and sweets?” She indicated the tea tray and plate she had already laid out.
After she and Mika had accepted Izumi’s offering, all three took seats. “So what’s up?” Chihiro asked. Izumi asking to talk to her was one thing; they were good friends. But other than when she was around, Mika and Izumi didn’t usually have too much to do with one another.
“I need your help,”
Okay, add that to the list of things she never thought she’d hear. “I’m guessing not with homework or anything?” Chihiro said. “Because that’s definitely not me.” Izumi was way towards the front of the class anyway. So was Mika, for that matter. She belatedly realized she was the dumbest person in the room. On the other hand, she might still win the medal for most common sense.
“Not homework,” Izumi assured her. “The matter is more personal.”
“Is this about a guy? Or a girl?” Mika asked. “Because I was ninety-nine percent sure you didn’t go for that.”
Startled at her friend’s abruptness, Chihiro smacked her upside the head with one of her Cords. “Don’t be crude.”
Izumi, fortunately, took it all in stride. “You are correct that I do not “go for that.’”
Huh. Chihiro had always known that Izumi hadn’t displayed much interest in anyone, but given that her other best friend was interested in everyone, she’d figured it was just less interest, not none. How had she been that clueless?
“So what do you need?” Chihiro asked.
Izumi closed her eyes for a moment and took a breath. When she opened them, she looked as serious as Chihiro had ever seen her. “I need to find my grandfather.”
“What happened?” Mika asked. “Was there a big tax scandal? Is Grandpa Yaoyorozu hiding out from the feds in the tropics?”
“No,” Izumi said. “Not him. My grandfather on my father’s side.”
“Endeavor?” Chihiro asked. “Why?” A thought occurred to her, something that had come up during her Internship with Aunt Momo. “Wait, does this have anything to do with Plague?”
Next to her, Mika had pulled out her phone, but right now, her friend’s rudeness wasn’t her biggest concern.
Izumi’s eyes went wide. “How do you know that name?”
“Daddy called Aunt Momo. Said you’d found out about somebody with that name.”
Izumi took another moment to collect her thoughts. "What I am about to tell you cannot leave this room."
"Izumi, you're scaring me." Her friend was never this intense. Whatever it was, this all had to be deadly serious.
Izumi locked eyes with her. "Promise me, Chihiro."
Chihiro was worried now, but kept eye contact. "Okay. I promise."
"Do you remember when I was sick?"
That did very little to narrow it down. Izumi had had plenty of health issues over the years. Chihiro had visited her in the hospital countless times. "You're going to need to specify, Izumi. You've been sick a lot."
"The time I was very sick. The time that really started it all."
Oh yeah. That one. Chihiro looked at the floor. "I remember."
Izumi sighed. "During my internship, Uncle Denki let it slip that there was possibly something more... complicated behind it."
Daddy was in on whatever this was? "Complicated? How?"
"Complicated, as it was the implied that it was a villain, this “Plague,” who got me sick."
“Okay,” Chihiro said, her head spinning as she tried to make sense of it. Nervously, she tapped the ends of her Cords together. “Okay, did you talk to your parents about this?”
Izumi shook her head. "I did not. After the Nomu attacks, Mother and Father...they wanted to pull me from the school. I exhausted myself. Again."
Of course they did. She knew it was ongoing drama with Izumi and her parents.
Before she could speak, Izumi held up her hand. "I managed to talk them down. For now. Part of me suspects that at the next big incident, the next time I falter, they'll try again. That's why I didn't ask them. I couldn't. I didn't want to bring up the pain they went through again."
Izumi pointed to a plush rabbit on her bed, one which looked fairly new. “I am certain he visited me in the hospital. Things are… becoming complicated.”
Izumi inhaled deeply before continuing. "I've been thinking a lot since then. I've been remembering things. Things I thought I forgot. I want to find out what happened to me, but I can't go to my parents. I can't go to anyone, not your father, not Uncle Deku, no one, because they'll go to my parents. I know I can count on you to keep my secrets, both of you.
“I cannot burden Katsumi with this. She has enough to carry right now without carrying me as well. You don't have to help if you don't want to get in trouble-"
“Found him,” Mika said, looking up from her phone.
“…How the hell did you do that?” Chihiro asked. It could not possibly have been that easy.
“Daddy never changes his login ID or password for anything,” Mika said. “I just used one of the databases available to Heroes to look up an address. It’s not even that far.”
Chihiro just stared. “Every time I think I’ve got you figured out…”
Izumi looked equally startled, worried, and pleased. “Thank you, Mineta,” she said, quietly.
Mika shrugged. “Hey, what’re friends for?”
***
Normally, Toshi did his morning jog with Katsumi, sometimes joined by Kana Tetsutetsu. He’d also occasionally convinced Haimawari to join them, though that was fairly rare. But this morning, he was alone. Katsumi had begged off for wanting to focus on weight training instead and Tetsutetsu was apparently busy with some emergency in her dorm, according to her text.
Which was fine. He could be alone with his thoughts. Like the thought that he didn’t have idea one what they were getting into with the exam and it would definitely be his fault if they all failed, bringing shame upon the Midoriya name and leading to Sora dumping him and Katsumi killing him.
Well. That had escalated quickly.
“Mi… Midoriya!” The sound of his name drew him out of his panic. It came with labored breathing and he came to a stop, turning and seeing Shiro Monoma, dressed in workout clothes, running up behind him. Monoma’s not out of shape, but it’s a wiry build, more suited to agility and gymnastics, than Toshi’s more muscular one.
“What’s up, Monoma?” he asked. Monoma hadn’t done anything antagonistic yet, which was a good sign. In fact, Toshi couldn’t remember seeing him at all during the past week, or even hearing him, which was even stranger. He didn’t have the same extreme dislike for the other boy that Katsumi did, but he would hardly say they were on friendly terms, even though they were neighbors. Honestly, he mostly did his best to ignore Monoma’s jabs at the class.
“I need to talk to you about the exam,” Monoma said.
“I don’t know what they’re going to do any more than you do,” Toshi told him. “I can make a few educated guesses though, based on our Heroics classes and all though. Happy to talk, if you want.”
He stole a glance at his watch. “Can we run though? I want to get this in before classes and my heart rate’s already dropping.”
Monoma looked rather pained by the prospect, but nodded. “Okay.”
Since he wasn’t completely unfeeling, Toshi did tone his run down to something slightly less than his usual, letting Monoma keep up. “So like I said, I don’t really know, but I can guess. Got to be something large scale, if they’re going to be able to score all of us on it. And that means something with a lot of different moving parts. Probably Villains to fight, people to rescue, maybe something to find like a bomb…”
Monoma was, to his credit, keeping up with Toshi, though he looked like he was pushing himself a bit to do it. “That’s… good thinking…,” he said, between breaths. “But not what I wanted to ask about.”
“Then what?” Toshi asked.
“I need to know,” Monoma said, with such seriousness that it took Toshi aback for a moment. “how you got… everyone to work… together.”
Toshi took pity on him and slowed down a little more. “Everyone. Teamwork from the get go. How do you get them to follow you like that? How did you get all those different personalities to work together like that?”
Shiro’s voice turned bitter. “I try and I try to make everyone better. I want them to succeed, I really do. But no one listens to me. I can’t… Hardly any of my class made it through the final round. And I got lucky as it was. I’m worried about them and the final exam.”
“Them?” Toshi asked. His phrasing there was odd. “Them,” he’d said. Not “us”.
Monoma frowned. “I had hoped to keep this a secret. Almost no one knows about this. But I’m leaving once this term is over. I’m not cut out for this. But with how the exam is going to work… I can’t cost them their futures just because mine’s going to be something else.”
Toshi couldn’t keep the surprise off his face, but fortunately, Monoma wasn’t looking at him to see it. “You’re…” he began. He actually came to a stop. Running was a good way to lose himself, and he needed all his wits now.
“I am,” Monoma said, finishing the thought for him. He bent half off, breathing hard. He righted himself after a few breaths. “Don’t try to talk me out of it.”
Now Toshi frowned, but he nodded. “Not my place to do that. But I think it’s a mistake.”
Monoma shook his head. “It’s not. But what about my class? And what about the exam?” There was a moment of silence, and then, “Please. I can’t let failure be my entire legacy here.”
If he lived long enough to become the new Number One Hero, Toshi never would have thought he’d have heard Monoma talk like this. Usually, the blond boy was full of bravado and confidence, always trying to prove his class’s superiority over 1-A. And to be fair, 1-A contained the children of a large number of highly ranked Heroes, something that few of Class 1-B could claim. None of their parents were low ranked, but there was a certain degree of disparity there. And a much larger portion of Class 1-B had no Hero parents at all.
“Okay, the first thing you have to remember,” Toshi told him, “is that we’re almost all childhood friends. Some of us more than others and in some different combinations… but we grew up together. Our parents are close and they passed that onto us. Trust’s easy that way.”
Given that his parent’s Class A had gone through hell together over three years in a way that their contemporary Class B hadn’t, it was easy to see where stronger bonds might have been forged.
Monoma nodded. “My father’s class drifted more during the years. Kana is the only one I was anything close to growing up, along with Mika and Akaya.”
“The other big thing is… Look. My dad’s the Number One Hero. I wanted to do the best I could, but the Sports Festival was never about winning for me.” And sure, he’d managed to share third place with Kocho. He was proud of his accomplishments, and he’d gone in intending to give it his all, but it hadn’t been his main goal. Toshi would have been just as happy not to have placed, if it meant other of his friends did.
“So I went in it from the start doing it for them. And they knew that, so they went along with it. It wasn’t even about beating your class or anybody else in the race; I just wanted to make sure everybody had the best chance they could. Somebody like Ojiro or Sato would have had a real hard time doing that in the obstacle course. So I asked everybody to take a step back now so that they could all have something later.”
It hadn’t quite been as easy as he made it sound. Convincing Aoyama had been one of the most difficult parts, but the promise of future glories had eventually been enough.
Monoma looked as though he’d been punched. “…Shit.” His expression devolved further, becoming truly miserable. “During the Sports Festival, I was so concerned with… things turning out a certain way, I pushed for flare and making a splash. And not all of them even made it past the Obstacle Course. Maybe I really do drag them down. Maybe she was right.”
Toshi frowned. This was turning pretty dark on him. And he wasn’t sure who “she” was. “Look,” he said. “You want what’s best for them. That’s admirable. But if you go so hard on trying to show somebody up, then that’s all you’re going to see. That’s what Endeavor did for a long time, and you know what happened to him.”
Monoma sighed, then nodded. “Then I am more certain than ever I’ve made the right choice. But at least I know what I can do for them to help everyone else pass. Thank you, Midoriya.”
As Monoma left, Toshi wasn’t certain at all that he’d said the right things there. It certainly didn’t seem like a victory.
***
In the teacher’s lounge, Aizawa looked over the finalized draft of the Heroics practical exam. Talking All Might into it had been difficult, but worth it. He’d staked his job and reputation on it, but he believed the results would be worth it.
His students, all the students, were talented. But even with recent events, what they needed was a stark dose of reality to push them further along their paths.
He looked at the profiles spread out in front of him. The people he’d found would be just the ones to do it.
#my hero academia#their hero academia#izumi todoroki#mika (tha)#toshi midoriya#shiro monoma#chihiro kaminari#fan fic#fan fiction#isamu haimawari#my writing
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hiya i wrote a fic at 4:30 am bc i have emotions and i need more hargreeves bonding but specifically vanya/diegos relationship!!! this fic is sorta all over the place so i apologize for the errors !!
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After avoiding the end of the world the Hargreeves decided that there was no better time than now to attempt to fix their estranged relationship. After 17 years of no communication then being forced into such a high intensity situation, to say they deserved some time together was an understatement.
It had been a few months since the alleged end of the world and they all made it a habit to go out to dinner at least once a week together. Especially now that they’re all living under one roof it made things easier. They needed some time to recover to which Pogo and Grace happily obliged in their request to stay for a bit. They were all learning how to get along better - all improving in their communication skills after 30 years of being emotionally stunted. However their biggest arguments were always over where to eat. Klaus always wanted tacos, Allison usually wanted Thai food, Five just wanted a solid cup of coffee he didn’t really care where, Vanya always just said “I don’t care wherever you want”, and the rest of them agreed with whatever happened.
Tonight they settled on a Vietnamese restaurant so Diego could “get his pho on” after a few weeks of complaining.
“KLAUS GET YOUR BUTT DOWN HERE.” Diego exclaimed, waiting approximately seven seconds before screaming again.
“IF YOU DON’T GET DOWN HERE WE’RE GONNA LEAVE WITHOUT YOU!” Diego grabbed his coat, tossing the keys to Five. Which was quickly followed by the click clack of Klaus’ black booties.
“Yes brother dearest I heard you the first time!” Klaus made it to the bottom of the stairs and did a twirl, showing off his (Allison’s) black skirt and gave an expectant look to his brother.
“Nice outfit.” Diego said with a nod, “Now get in the car, princess. I need pho in me. Stat.”
“Yessir~”
All seven of the siblings piled into their new van which could actually fit all of them. Allison said it was a present for everyone but really it was for Five. Driving always seemed to calm him down and helped clear his head when he got too caught up in himself.
The ten minute drive went by pretty quickly as the hot topic conversation was about whether or not sriracha belonged in pho. Luther was the only one opposed to the idea to which Ben added was due to his “unfortunate Caucasian genes”. Klaus happily translated that.
They made their way out of the van and walked through the parking structure. As they turned a corner and got closer to their destination they heard a chorus of shouts and a sea of red hats right outside of the restaurant.
“Is that what I think it is?” Luther asked out loud, his voice at least an octave higher than normal in disbelief at the scene in front of him.
“BUILD THAT WALL. BUILD THAT WALL. KEEP THEM OUT” was being chanted, the sea of people held out signs that had things written along the lines of “secure USA boarders” and “keep illegals out”
“LOOK, THERE’S AN ILLEGAL OVER THERE!” A large, middle aged white man yelled into his megaphone and pointed right at Diego. The entire crowd shifted their attention to the seven siblings, Diego in the front.
“SHOW US YOUR DOCUMENTS FILTHY FUCK!” Another man shouted with nothing but pure venom in his voice.
Diego clenched his jaw, his entire body tense. Vanya, surprising to everyone, was the first one to defend their brother.
“Don’t you guys have better things to do then spew hate? You’re not proving anything other than your ignorance.” Vanya was absolutely fuming but she managed to keep her voice calm and level, leaving the group behind and walking right up to the man. She placed herself less than two inches away from his face, looking up with a hand on her hip.
“That little be*ner over there is stealing our jobs, little miss,” he poked Vanya’s shoulder, “I’d advise you get the fuck out of my face before I call ICE on his ass.”
“My brother has every right to here here just as you or I do. Legal or not, he’s a human being. Imagine not having the basic human decency to realize everyone is a person. You should be ashamed.” Vanya could feel her heart pounding with each word that was said.
“We need to build the wall to keep all illegals out. No more brown fuckers stealing our jobs. This is MY AMERICA!” The man hissed, spit hitting her cheek.
A car horn went off and trees started rustling, her anger becoming more evident. Allison quickly ran to the scene, grabbing Vanya’s hand and tearing her away from the situation before she had a chance to respond.
“C’mon, these assholes don’t deserve our energy.” She signed, knowing Vanya always calmed down when she signed. It helped her feel more connected to her sister and it made her situation easier to accept.
Vanya was shaking at this point as she walked back, still hand in hand with her sister.
“We should leave.” Klaus said shakily, both Ben and his hand on Diego’s shoulder.
“V-Vanya. I-I can’t” Diego started but stopped himself, his words not cooperating with him right now. He immediately wrapped his arms around his sister, holding her tight. “Tha-thank you.” His voice was muffled in her shoulder and it was evident he was holding back tears.
“You don’t need to thank me, silly.” Vanya replied, slowly breaking out of the hug. She looked up at her brother and wiped away a tear that was threatening to fall
“Let’s go get your pho someplace else, yeah?”
Vanya offered her brother a soft smile to which he returned with a nod.
The siblings made their way back to the van, all making sure to be extra kind to Diego. They knew when their brother was and wasn’t okay.
They went to a “better” restaurant according to Klaus’ intensive yelp research. Once in the restaurant Klaus was the first to speak up.
“I’m,” he paused, not even sure where to begin, “I can’t believe people like that still exist.”
“I can, unfortunately.” Allison signed, giving her brother an understanding look. She has faced her fair share of racism not just in the public eye, but also in her personal life as well. Being a black woman isn’t the easiest experience either.
“I can’t believe we saved the world so rodents like that can spew their nonsense.” Five added, taking a sip of his coffee. “But you know they’re wrong right..? I mean, of course you do. But I understand how sometimes we all need to be affirmed.”
They all turned expectantly at their brother who hadn’t said more than a few words since the incident. Often times when Diego got emotional his words would fail him, they knew that. They learned over the years to be patient when that happened. It made Diego feel weak. Vulnerable. Not like a knife wielding badass he is but so much smaller than that. He felt like it reduced him to nothing more than broken syllables and incoherent sentences.
“I-I kn-kn-know,” Diego started, signing as he spoke in case some things got lost in translation. “I’ve seen th-those types o-on the news b-b-but,” he sighed, closing his eyes and focusing on the next part of the sentence “ex-exp-experiencing it is d-different.”
Vanya nodded and put her hand on top of his, giving it a light squeeze. She couldn’t imagine what experiencing something like that would be like. Seeing a group of people who think you shouldn’t exist. A group of people who vocalize that you are unimportant, less than. Well maybe she did know a thing to two about that, but not to that overwhelming degree.
“It’s a good thing Vanya went up first because I was about 2 seconds way from beating their ass. Not that you couldn’t have done it yourself.” Luther was still visibly upset as he spoke, his grip on his water tightening.
As if in cue their food came. The waiter brought over 6 bowls of piping hot pho, placing it in front of the siblings.
It didn’t take long before Diego’s mouth was full of noodles and the only thing heard were the sounds of slurps from each of their mouths. They ate in relative silence until they finished.
“I-I want to uh,” Diego began as he wiped his mouth with a napkin, all heads turning to him, “thank you guys. Really.”
They all smiled at their brother, receiving a chorus of “of course” and “shut up dummy” phrases. He laughed and shook his head, relishing in this moment together.
After all that they’ve been through there was no way they were going to let a group of ungrateful, hateful, ignorant people ruin their pho time. And his siblings made sure of that.
#i hope this isnt too awful#i just love supoortive hargreeves a lot#the umbrella academy#diego hargreeves#i want that all of klaus outfits pls#allison hargreeves#five hargreeves#luther hargreeves#ben hargreeves#tua#tua fic#the umbrella academy fanfiction
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Part 2 – Reviewing the Play
Felizmente há luar! is a play inspired by a real event in Portuguese history from 1817. That year there were rumours that the people of Portugal were planning to revolt against the monarchy. An army general named Gomes Freire de Andrade was accused of being the leader of the conspiracy, he was imprisoned and condemned to death, but his guilt was never conclusively proven.
In part 1 I talked about what Portugal was like politically in the 1960s when the play was written; it was a time when the country had been under dictatorship for the last 30 years, a time when freedom of speech and the principals of democracy were oppressed. It could be argued that the author Luís de Sttau Monteiro choose to set his play in 1817 to avoid censorship; he may have tried to camouflage his message by using history, a tactic to mask the fact that he was outright criticising the current government. But the liberal message of the play is pretty clear, and the government banned it anyway. I prefer the idea that Monteiro used events of past history to illustrate how little has changed: how corruption and injustice still thrive and shockingly how many similarities still exist between past and present.
In 1817, (and without getting too deep into history because I did that way too much in Part 1), the king of Portugal, D. João VI, was far away in Brazil looking after the empire, back in Portugal the people were impoverished and hushed whispers of revolution floated in the air.
In the play three characters, without having any concrete evidence, offer up the name of General Gomes Freire de Andrade as a possible conspirator. These three characters, two policemen and a spy, have been pressured by men of power to name a suspect, but they are also blinded by their own ambition for wealth and status. The General was an easy target because of his popularity with the people and his liberal views.
Those in power grab onto the General’s name with relish and bring about his downfall. They are; a Portuguese governor named D. Miguel Forjaz, a ruling member of the catholic church, Principal Sousa, and a British marshal commissioned to lead the Portuguese army, Beresford. The governor is in fact the General’s cousin and has a personal dislike for the man. Sousa is worried that revolution would stray the people away from God… but more importantly away from the power of the church and those who rule it. Regarding the British marshal he has absolutely no love for Portugal or its people and simply wants to keep control long enough to earn himself a good commission. These three men of power choose the General to be a sacrificial lamb. Whether he truly is organizing a revolt or not is unimportant, the important thing is to show the people that liberal ideals are not to be tolerated. These ideals go again God, King and Country.
Truth be told, I don’t actually like Felizmente há luar! Sure it is an important work historically and has, and will continue to be, taught in schools in order to teach new generations of teenagers about politics, corruption, censorship and revolution. It’s even propelled me to do research about my own country and write an essay on Salazar and Portuguese colonialism. All art should educate and entertain, however while Felizmente há luar! covers the ‘educate’ bit very well, for me personally it isn’t good enough on the ‘entertain’ front. It lacks love, I don’t mean romantic love, I mean the love of art, the desire to create art because of the author’s love for art. Felizmente há luar! was created to criticize the dictatorship of the 60s, to criticize censorship and show the audience the true face of corruption. It was in essence: propaganda. Propaganda with a good purpose, but propaganda all the same.
Perhaps the problem is with me; so far what little I’ve experienced of classic Portuguese literature hasn’t meshed well with me. It’s too… melodramatic. But I’ll get to that in a moment. Firstly the things about the play which impressed me: the fate of General is what drives the plot, and yet he is never on stage, he is never heard. The man is conspired against, imprisoned, sentenced to death and yet he never has a chance to defend himself. This was a brilliant idea from the author, it reflects how in the 60s political activists, or even ordinary folk with ideas against the government, were taken away, imprisoned, tortured, hushed up, and made to disappear. Their voices never heard.
A scene which I felt was very poignant in the play was when the General’s “woman”, Matilde, having failed to persuade anyone of power to help her then turns to the common people for help. One of them gives her a coin and explains that when they ask for help, when they are starving and without a home, without a job and begging for help, the upper class feel that giving spare change is enough to ease their own conscience. Now when someone from a higher class asks them to repel against authority, to risk their lives for one man, the only help they are willing to give in return are those same measly coins.
Matilde is the character which gave me the most difficulties to accept. She is the classic heroine: a woman of kindness, eternally devoted to her man. That’s the problem; “good women” in classic literature are those whose main job is to fret over the hero and plead for him when he gets into trouble. Matilde is a one-dimensional character. But she has two potentially positive points. Firstly she’s described as the General’s companion, to me it’s unclear whether she’s his wife or his long-term unmarried lover. From a feminist point of view it would be excellent if they were unmarried, this would challenge the catholic church’s insistence on marriage and the idea that only a wife in holy matrimony or a virgin can be representations of women of virtue. But I’m not sure if Matilde’s position is deliberately ambiguous or if my understanding of the Portuguese language has let me down and they actually are married.
The second point and the reason I warmed up to her character was because I realised that of all the General’s friends and family, she was the only one who tried everything she could think of to save him. Unfortunately all she could do was… beg everyone for help, but the point is that she was the only one who was willing to give up her pride in order to save him.
The last thing I want to talk about is the title Felizmente há luar! which translate as “Luckily there’s moonlight!”. I bought this book during my first year studying in uni in Portugal, at the time I was homesick and would buy books to cheer myself up, but I hated reading in Portuguese so only now, a decade later, am I reading some of them. Felizmente há luar! was a book I bought solely because I liked the cover design and I had mistakenly assumed that the play was a comedy based on the title. The phrase “luckily there’s moonlight!” is uttered twice in the play, both times at very distressing moments. The first is on the night the General is to be executed, burned at the stake. Governor D. Miguel comments “Lisbon will smell all night of burnt flesh, the smell will stay in their memories for many years to come… every time they think of challenging our orders, they will remember this smell… It is true that the execution will last all night, but luckily there’s moonlight…”
Oh how a phrase I thought was associated with a comedy turned so sinister.
The second occurrence is at the very end, Matilde watches the fire consume the General’s body and says “I thought this was the end but it is only the beginning. That fire will ignite this country!” (turns to the crowd) “Look well! Wash your eyes in the light of that fire and open your souls to what it teaches us! Even the night was made for us to see it until the end… luckily – luckily there’s moonlight!”
Review by Book Hamster
#just finished reading#felizmente ha luar#luis de sttau monteiro#theatre#plays#portuguese history#portuguese theatre#portuguese#português#teatro#salazar#antonio de oliveira salazar#censorship#politics#political justice#injustiça#dictatorship#Portuguese literature#Gomes Freire de Andrade#freedom of speech#1960s#60s#freedom of thought#revolution#education#history of portugal
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Cakes and Compromise
My Writing
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: Donna Noble, Tenth Doctor
Pairing: Doctor/Donna
Summary: Planning a wedding can be tough when the groom's an alien.
AO3 link
Yet another sentence prompt for anonymous. I think I’ve just got two more left on the list! Enjoy!
Donna was quite good at planning events. The fact that she’d already planned her own wedding once before certainly helped, but even without that previous experience, she was confident in her abilities there.
Her mum had hunted down the usual books and folders and promotions for this sort of thing with only minimal grumbling, which Donna suspected had a lot to do with the Doctor telling them not to worry about cost.
She’d been running everything by him, of course. Donna would have anyway — he was the bloody groom, after all — but she didn’t want him thinking they were taking advantage. Not that he ever seemed to spare a thought for money, but wedding bills had ruined plenty of marriages before. Plus it was the only way she could guarantee getting him involved.
He wasn’t disinterested. He’d look at whatever she’d show him and largely defer to her judgment. Sometimes he asked a question here or there, but mostly out of curiosity more than anything else. Donna found herself wanting all this wedding business to be over and done with so that they could get back to traveling. At least she knew he liked that!
The one thing he seemed to be at all looking forward to was picking out the cake. He’d already asked if they could get one with edible ball bearings, and he even helped her decide on which bakery to go with. And that had given Donna pause.
Her fiancé liked to have a bit of fun, and while Donna loved that about him, the fact that he was so keen on cakes was worrisome.
Her first go-around through this, she’d never quite been able to extract a promise from Lance; he’d always give some vague answer about wanting it to be a surprise. Now she knew he’d probably been relishing the opportunity to humiliate her and get away with it before murdering her horribly.
The Doctor would never do that to her, at the least not on purpose, but it was also possible that he would see it all as just a laugh. Donna was not at all interested in being laughed at on her wedding day. So there was one thing she knew she had to make absolutely clear.
"If you shove cake in my face, I promise you this will be the worst wedding night of your life.”
Across the kitchen table from her, she watched the Doctor’s face scrunch up. “Why would I do that?”
“Well, you know. It’s sort of a tradition,” she remarked with a roll of her eyes.
“Is it?”
Donna had a moment of regret that she’d apparently reminded him — but then it hit her. “You really wouldn’t know, would you?”
“When did that start up?” He was too busy wondering to reply. “Is it a Three Stooges homage?”
How could she have been so stupid? Of course he wasn’t all that invested; this wasn’t a wedding to him. He’d thought her dress would have pockets!
Donna looked down at the books and stationary samples spread out across the table with a newfound sense of despair.
“Forget it,” she decided. “Forget the whole thing.”
“What?”
She flipped the nearest book closed and pushed it away from her. “We’re not doing this.”
“The wedding? Donna, you’ve wanted to get married since the day I met you,” he reasoned. “This means a lot to you.”
“But none of it means anything to you! Here I am going on to you about flower arrangements and what order to do the speeches in, and I never even asked you if there was something you wanted to add from your people’s wedding ceremonies.”
“Oh.” He was quiet for a moment.
“Is there something you’d want to do?” She asked quietly. “That we could do?”
“Not without confusing most of the guests,” the Doctor admitted. “Look, Donna, I didn’t go into this expecting Gallifreyan customs to be incorporated into the ceremony. I didn’t even bring it up. You don’t have to feel badly for not thinking of it.”
“But I want this to be for both of us, to represent who we are as people and as a couple,” she insisted. “Hang the guests, I’m marrying an alien. Do you think I’m bothered if they’re confused?”
He smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. “No. Right then, a human-Time Lord wedding.”
Donna felt herself brightening again and reached across the table for a notebook that she flipped open to a fresh page. The Doctor made an amused noise in the back of his throat.
“When you’re ready,” she told him primly.
“Well, I’m trying to think of what we can do. The full version of the ceremony is rather long.”
“How long?”
He gave her a look. “We had all the time in the universe.”
Donna nodded. “Okay. So maybe just a shorter portion of that ceremony.”
“Well, there was a shorter version. The battlefield version. But this isn’t exactly a battle, and I don’t really feel like asking your mum to let me marry you.”
“What’s that?”
“The shorter ceremony mostly consists of asking the parents of the intendeds to ‘consent and gladly give’ their children,” he explained. “I having no parents and you only having your mother, it doesn’t exactly work.”
Donna snorted. “Yeah, you’re gonna be waiting a long time for her to be glad about this. You’re sure there’s nothing else we could use?”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a Gallifreyan wedding,” he admitted. Then his expression changed, and Donna knew he’d found it. “But there was a bit in both ceremonies where you’d have the couple tie their hands together with a bit of cloth. A ribbon, anything would do.”
“That sort of sounds like hand-fasting,” Donna said. “They do it in Ireland mostly. I think it was the Celts that started it. But it’s not uncommon here.”
“Humans do it, too? That is fascinating. I wonder how that first got started?”
“We’ll have a look in on the Celts on our honeymoon,” Donna offered. “But, hand-fasting for the wedding. Definitely happening? Is there anything else you want to add?”
“Well, I might. I mean, there were some vows. No one would be able to understand them. I could just translate them to English—”
“What if we got it embroidered into the cord? Or whatever fabric we use to tie our hands together? That way it’s part of the ceremony, in Gallifreyan, and we have it forever.”
“Have I mentioned lately how brilliant you are?” He leaned across the table to kiss her, which she was very nearly tempted to continue even if it meant letting the rest of this go for the day.
The Doctor broke from her lips but left a hand resting on her cheek. “Thank you. Really. It means more to me than I can say. And I promise I will be here and present for all the Earth-based decisions, too. It’s important to me to see your traditions respected just as well as mine.”
“But not the cake one,” she added hastily.
He gave a single shake of the head. “Not the cake one.” He paused for just a single breath, then added, “Although, typical Gallifreyan wedding cakes always had edible ball bearings—”
Donna batted his hand away. “Nice try, Spaceman.”
“Can we please get one?”
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Reylo Week 2018 day 2: Dark
Born in the Dark
Being the hero of the Resistance is kind of nice, at first. She’s gone from being a nobody in a junkyard, to a girl with an amazing power, to the saviour of the rebellion. The attention is enough to make her giddy.
After so many years of being thought of as no better than the garbage she scavenged through she can hardly be blamed for revelling in the admiration of so many. People like her. People know who she is without her introducing herself. For the first time in Rey’s life she feels valued.
Then it starts to go sour.
It’s not a lot at first. Just the odd remark from a resistance fighter, pointed comments about her abilities and training.
A pilot serving under Poe makes a comment at a strategy meeting about not needing to be absolutely accurate with their weapons because “the Jedi can just direct them with the Force right?”
It’s an offhand remark, meant as a joke. A ripple of laughter goes through the room and Rey is shocked by how badly she wants to snap at the man.
She’s been training relentlessly. Pushing her body until even Finn, who seems to have near boundless faith in her, tells her to take it easy.
“You’re only human, Rey. Don’t hurt yourself.”
But it’s hard to accept you’re only human when everyone is acting like you’re more than that. The admiration and awe she once relished in becomes suffocating. People she’s never met talk like they know her, and the rumours she’s heard about herself range from funny to downright creepy.
And if one more person demands to see “the levitating trick” she’s going to strangle them with her bare hands.
There’s thousands of years of Jedi history that she barely knows anything about, and she feels like every single one of them is pressing down on her. Every time she reaches out to connect to the Force the once exhilarating rush of energy feels like an electric current zipping under her skin. As her powers grow it’s getting harder and harder to keep them under control.
Is this how Ben felt? She wonders, taking a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth, visualising the excess energy being expelled with her breath. It doesn’t work. Did he feel like a vessel full to the brim with power with no room for anything else? Did the hopes of others crush him too?
Rey bites her tongue again and again until it is raw. She gets good at giving vague answers and dodging questions. But she has to snap some time and as it turns out that time is in another strategy meeting. With all the commanding officers present. Of course.
Another pilot (not the same one that made the crack about aiming, thank the Force), comes forward with a brilliant propaganda proposal.
“We should make some holos of Rey doing the Jedi thing.”
“I’m sorry?!” Rey looks across the room at the pilot in question, certain she misheard her. “The Jedi thing?”
“You know, propaganda. Something to subtly disseminate on the holonet to give the people hope. A little speech, a little footage of you floating things or practicing with your lightsaber. Did you finish fixing it yet?”
Rey has in fact not finished “fixing” the lightsaber. Luke’s old saber was destroyed beyond repair, the best she could hope for was to take the salvageable components and make a new one. Which she has been attempting to do. With limited success.
“It’s a very complex piece of equipment with many delicate components-“
“Well tell us what you need so we can get it for you.” The pilot interrupts. “And then we can get on with making these holos.”
“Excuse me?” Rey can feel her ire growing, that unpleasant electrical tingling under her skin again. “I haven’t agreed to do this yet. I’m not some performing monkey-lizard you can wheel out to do tricks when you feel like it. I don’t want to be put on display!” She glances around the room, expecting to see at least some people nodding in agreement. To her dismay most are looking uncomfortable, a few actively annoyed. Even Finn is looking conflicted.
“No-one is expecting you to do ‘tricks’, Rey.” It’s Poe who finally breaks the tense silence, his smooth voice filling the room. “But I do have to agree that footage of the last Jedi proving her skill would be an incredible boon for us. A speech could be good too, it could really bolster morale and bring people to the cause.”
“I can’t write speeches.” She’s starting to sound petulant now, but she doesn’t care. It’s not even that big a deal, it’s just the way everyone keeps on assuming she’ll step to and serve rather than make decisions for herself. Like she’s not even a person, just a weapon.
“We can write it for you, it’s fine.” Poe smiles and waves dismissively. “At least think about it.” He sounds so kriffing reasonable she just wants to punch him in the mouth.
“I don’t need to think about it. I have thought about it. I don’t want to do it.” The tingling under her skin is intensifying. She clenches her fists until she can feel her racing pulse throbbing in her fingertips.
“Rey, you know we all have to do our part to help the Resistance, you signed up for that when you joined us.” Poe’s voice has a hard edge now. Ever since Vice Admiral Holdo sacrificed herself Poe has taken pains to behave more like a leader and less like a reckless flyboy, but he still has a streak of “anything for the cause” running through him that disturbs Rey immensely.
“I signed up to fight the enemy, not perform for your amusement!” The electric tingling is thrumming under her skin now, still painful but now also oddly invigorating. It feels like…
It feels like the throne room.
“Both of you, that’s enough.” General Organa silences the room without even leaving her chair. Rey’s righteous anger curdles and the electricity under her skin fizzles out under those solemn brown eyes. She feels very young, and very out of her depth.
“I…” There’s an air of uneasiness around the room, and Rey suddenly feels the need to escape. “I don’t think you need me for the rest of this meeting.” Finn makes a move to follow her as she briskly exits the room, but Leia puts a hand on his arm.
“Leave her be for a moment.”
It’s much later that Leia comes to Rey’s quarters. Having a room to herself is one of the few perks of people constantly treating her like some kind of superhuman. Apparently she needs the privacy so she can concentrate on her training, and Rey is more than happy to take the solitude. She discovered when they were fleeing on the Falcon that she couldn’t sleep well when surrounded by other people, her brain unable to stop listening for signs of danger even though logically she knew she was safe.
“Rey, I just wanted to check up on how you were doing.”
Rey is perched at the head of the bed, her arms wrapped around her legs. “Fine. I’ve been translating the texts and working on fixing the saber-“
“No, dear. I asked how you were doing, not your training.”
“…Fine”
“Mhmmm. Ben used to say that too.”
Rey’s eyes snap up. They haven’t spoken of Ben yet. They’ve carefully skirted the subject. Leia sits down heavily on the end of the bed. She walks with a cane now, and rests both hands on top of it as she gazes off into the middle distance and takes a deep breath, her next words taking effort.
“When he was younger, before he learned how to control his power, he used to have these terrible tantrums. He’d yell and lash out with his power. He’d break things. Once he accidentally shorted out a housekeeping droid with the Force, without even laying a finger on it.”
Leia’s eyes are bright as she remembers her poor disturbed son.
“I asked him once why he did it. He said to me ‘Mama, there’s too much. There’s too much inside me. I can’t stop it.’ I realised later – far too late, really – that it was Snoke's influence but at the time I just thought it was Vader's legacy come back to haunt us. Force help me I thought I was doing the right thing. I should have sent him off to Luke to receive training sooner so he could have learned how to shield himself, but I didn’t want to lose my boy. Then I lost him anyway…”
A tear runs down Leia’s cheek, and Rey feels the strongest urge to hug her.
“As he got older, he realised that it wasn’t normal. That none of his playmates had to worry about accidentally hurting someone if they let their tempers get out of control. He wanted so badly to get rid of his abilities. He begged me once to make Uncle Luke take the Force away from him, that he’d be good if his powers were gone. I had to explain that it wasn’t possible. He started closing himself off to me more and more after that. He got angrier, quieter. And whenever I asked him about his outbursts he’d just say ‘It’s nothing. I’m fine.’”
Leia turns bright eyes, filled with more years of pain than Rey has been alive, towards her. “So please understand me when I say, Rey, that I never, ever want you to say you’re fine when you’re not. Please. I am literally begging you. You can scream at me, curse me out, say anything you like. Just please don’t lie and say you’re fine.”
Feeling her face crumple, Rey drops her head. Hot tears leak from her eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“Come here sweetheart.” Leia gathers Rey up in her arms. “I’m not scolding you. I want to help you.” Leia is warm and smells of perfume and makeup, the soft fabric of her dress tickles Rey’s nose. She releases a deep breath, finally feeling calm for the first time since the meeting.
“I’m sorry I was so stupid at the meeting. I just…can’t stand the idea of being on display for people. I mean seriously kriffing propaganda holos? Some stupid, tacky, overblown holo?”
“Yes, I never much cared for doing them myself.” Leia’s voice is dry with just a hint of amusement.
Rey bites her lip to smother a groan. Of course General (former Princess) Leia Organa had done propaganda holos throughout her political career. Some had even made it to Jakku. Rey had seen them, liked them. Leia’s poise and determination had seized her attention with both hands, her confident words utterly enrapturing a young Rey.
“I’m sor-“
“If you apologise one more time I really will be angry.”
“Sor- uh. Ok.”
“You don’t have to apologise. You have a right to feel how you do. And to a certain extent I agree with you. I made holos because I was raised in politics, my weapons were my words. But that’s not for you Rey. You fight in a different way. And I’m afraid, “She sighs with mock resignation. “You will never be a diplomat. You’re far too blunt.”
Rey laughs in spite of herself. There’s a comfortable pause, the two women sitting side by side with their arms about each-others waists.
“But what Poe was saying, about me showing my abilities. That would help, wouldn’t it?”
Leia weighs her words carefully. “Yes. But that doesn’t mean you have to do it.”
“But the resistance needs all the help it can get.”
“True. And that still doesn’t mean you have to do it.” Leia looks at her steadily. “Listen, Rey, no matter what the stakes you always have a choice. Don’t let anyone push you into doing something you don’t want to do.”
“He was acting like I owe the resistance something.” Rey mutters, and Leia nods thoughtfully.
“Poe means well but…how do I put this…sometimes he gets too caught up in the cause and forgets the consequences. When you’ve been fighting for so long with so little and you’re presented with someone with a skill that can help you, you cling to it. You feel entitled to it, even. You focus so much on the skill that you – and I mean this is the nicest possible way – can sometimes forget about the person in possession of it. He pushes you because he thinks he’s in the right and people…” Leia’s hands clench the top of her cane, her mouth set in a thin line. “People sometimes do terrible things when they think they are in the right. More atrocities have been committed in the name of the ‘greater good’ than anything else the whole galaxy over.”
Rey shifts on the bed, her next words coming out as a whisper.
“Everybody acts like I’m some kind of saviour. Like I’m going to singlehandedly save the Resistance. I can’t possibly live up to that, it’s too much.” Rey can’t quite meet Leia’s eyes as she says it. It feels taboo to even be mentioning this. As though voicing the words out loud will doom her and by extension the resistance.
“I think you sell yourself short, but no-one expects you to do this alone. We’re all here to help you, however we can.” Leia’s voice is strong and warm and Rey feels more confident than she has in a long time.
She thinks for a moment and remembers the saber.
“I could do with a couple of harmonic energizer conductive plates.” Leia blinks.
“You may need to write that down for me.” They both laugh, and Rey looks at Leia’s worn but still beautiful face, committing this moment to memory.
“Just tell Rose, she’ll know what I mean.”
****
Admirers Rey has in abundance. Friends, less so, although she certainly seems to have a lot of people who think they're her friend. She considers Finn her closest confidante. She had adored Rose instantly when she woke in the Falcon with a concussion and introduced herself with the words;
“So you’re Rey. So glad to meet you. You can take care of this idiot” she gestured to Finn “while I’m out of action.”
BB8 is adorable, although Rey is still not entirely sure where she stands with his master. Poe Dameron is the most effortlessly charming man she has ever met and for some reason it grates on her immensely. One moment she’ll be confident that they can get along just fine, the next he’ll say something to annoy her. He doesn’t mean to, something about him just gets Rey’s back up for some reason. Perhaps the fact that he keeps on ‘subtly’ mentioning that he’s the best pilot in the resistance at every opportunity.
She feels close to Leia, although she’s not sure she’d class it as friendship. She thinks it might be what having a mother is like. It’s nice.
Chewbacca is sort of a friend but he’s gone back to Kashyyyk. Something about a life debt being fulfilled and missing his family.
Happiness, Rey thinks, should be grasped at whenever possible. She can feel the future looming like a dark storm cloud on the horizon and gathers up every little scrap of light she can to fight against it.
Which is why her, Rose and Finn are currently sitting in the mess hall chatting about anything and everything.
Finn is still finding out who he is without the First Order watching his every move, and the more confident he becomes the more Rey truly believes he will go on to do great things. He’s honourable and determined, and Leia herself has mentioned to Rey that she’s seriously considering putting him forward for a position in high command.
Rose is possibly the kindest person Rey has ever met, and she find the woman wonderfully easy to talk to. She also has never placed the Jedi on a pedestal, which Rey appreciates. Rey asks her about it once only to receive a vague reply about having learned her lesson.
They’re both wonderful people that she loves spending time with. Usually. But right now they’ve somehow gotten on to the subject of how they met (a story that Rey had heard at least half a dozen times now) and they’re getting this ooey-gooey look in their eyes as they look at each other that has Rey looking to the door longingly. They’re a cute couple but seeing them fawn over each other like this makes Rey feel awkward.
“I mean what would you have done, Rey?” Rose asks.
“Huh?” Rey’s attention is jerked back to the nauseating couple. She hadn’t been listening at all.
“We were talking about that time I kinda nearly flew into a cannon.” Finn says sheepishly.
Oh stars, they’re talking about Rose kissing Finn after saving his life. Rey had thought it was terribly romantic the first time she had been told about it, although she also told Finn in no uncertain terms that he had bolts for brains for even considering sacrificing himself.
“Yeah Rey, what would you have done if the person you liked was clueless that you liked them?” Rose is beaming guilelessly.
Rey thinks of a throne room with fire raining down around her, dark eyes looking at her pleadingly as everything she ever wanted offered her everything she never asked for. She’d considered it. Just for a moment, but she had considered it.
Apparently I would explode a lightsaber and steal an escape shuttle.
She looks across the table at the two. Finn’s arm is looped around Rose’s waist and Rose’s head is leaned comfortably on Finn’s shoulder. They look so comfortable together, so happy and loving and connected. Jealousy burns in Rey’s gut. She doesn’t want either Rose or Finn, doesn’t think of them that way, but she desperately wants what they have. Rey is shocked by the intensity of the feeling, she’d thought that the crushing loneliness she’d felt on Jakku had been assuaged by the belonging she’d found in the resistance.
The feeling is so visceral that Rey grips the hem of her tunic under the table tightly to stop her hands shaking. She wants to be held like Finn is holding Rose. She wants someone who understands what she means when she talks about her Jedi training. She wants someone who will kiss her and love her and tell her she’s beautiful.
Mercifully a group of people burst into the mess at that moment, talking and laughing loudly. They join the three at their table, talking about whatever banal gossip is currently doing the rounds about the base. Rey tries to join in for a while, but the effort of trying to pretend to care who was caught in a supply closet with who, of trying to keep track of too many raised voices and shrieking laughs grates on her. She gets quieter and quieter, withdrawing into herself, until finally she excuses herself to go to the training room. Only Finn notices her go.
Rey picks up her practice saber and starts moving through her forms. Taking her stance, she closes her eyes breathes deeply in through her nose and out through her mouth. She concentrates on her breath for a moment, letting everything else fall away. When her mind has gone quiet, she releases control of her breath, opening herself up to the Force. The current of power is so strong that Rey feels like she’ll be lost in it, that whoever this “Rey” is will be swept away and the Living Force will take up residence in her body.
She takes another deep breath and pulls herself back, moving within the flow of the Force around her rather than drowning in it. The effort is making sweat bead on her skin and she hasn’t even started moving yet.
Slowly, deliberately, Rey starts going through the moves of her chosen form. Her movements feel stilted, the weapon in her hand clunky as she attempts to move through the complex sequence of turns and spins.
She fumbles her footwork, starts again. And again.
She tries shaking out her limbs in an effort to dispel the growing tingling energy gathering in them.
The fifth time she messes up a particularly complex series of footwork, Rey cries out in frustration and feels a wave of energy pulse out around her. The rack of practice weapons falls over the exact same moment she feels the air around her tighten for a moment, then snap back, all sound going from the room.
This is the last thing she needs right now. She can vaguely see the massive dark shape of Ben out of the corner of her eye, can feel his now-familiar Force signature pressing up against hers. She shouldn’t like how it feels.
They’ve connected a few times since Crait. The bond had not dissolved upon Snoke’s death and their interactions have been cold and largely silent, which is awkward since the bond “sessions” appear to be getting longer and longer as more time goes by. The fire and anger of their first force bond connections has long since gone, the tenderness from that one time they touched a distant memory. There’s just sadness there now.
Ben isn’t talking so Rey isn’t either, moving back to her starting position and going through the form again. Attempting to, at least.
The third time she restarts, Ben finally speaks.
“You are attempting the Juyo form.”
“Yes.” Rey takes another deep breath through her nose and takes her stance.
“The seventh and most complex of the classic lightsaber forms.”
“Yes.” Her teeth are gritted. It’s bad enough that every molecule of her being feels like it’s being pulled towards Ben like he’s a black hole. Now that damn low, calm voice of his is making her treacherous heart flutter in her chest like a caged bird.
“You need complete mastery of the other forms before you should even think about attempting it.”
“You got something to say Ben?” Rey whirls around and instantly regrets it. He’s close enough that she has to tilt her head back to look him in the eye. His dark hair has gotten longer and she actually grips the handle of her practice staff so she doesn’t reach out and touch it.
His intense brown eyes are soft as they gaze into hers, and she’s struck all at once by how much they look like his mother’s.
“Shii-Cho.”
“What?”
“Run through the Shii-Cho.”
“The first form? But I’m trying to do the seventh.”
“Run through the Shii-Cho.” He repeats, patiently.
Rey throws up her hands in resignation and runs through the Shii-Cho.
“Widen your stance and keep your pelvis tucked.”
She raises an eyebrow at him. “You’re helping me? Why? You know we’re going to end up fighting again eventually, and I beat you just fine without any training before.” In truth she doesn’t think she could raise a weapon against him if she had to, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“You did.” He concedes, looking down at her imperiously. “I was distracted. Next time we meet in battle I will defeat you.” He should have kept the helmet. His expressive face speaks to the lie and Rey knows she’s got about as much to fear from him as he does from her. But she can’t quite resist needling him a little.
“How do I know you’re giving me good information?”
Ben purses his lips and moves his jaw, something Rey recognises as a nervous tic of his.
“Close your eyes.”
“Excuse you?” Rey has to bite her lip to stop a smile spreading as Ben rolls his eyes and gives a gusty sigh.
“I’m not going to harm you. Just close your eyes and reach inwards with the Force.”
With a final doubtful look, Rey does as he says.
“Feel the energy of the Force moving through you. Feel how it flows through your body, your veins, your muscles. Take your stance, as you were before.” Rey does as he says. “Can you feel how the Force moves through you unevenly?” She can, actually. Eyebrows furrowed Rey feels the Force within herself stilted where it should be flowing, completely blocked in places. She’d spent all this time connecting with the Force around her, how had she missed this within herself? “Now, make the adjustments I told you.”
She does, and feels an instant improvement. The Force flows through her effortlessly. Her moves have more weight in them, her footwork is more stable.
“Now the Makashi.”
She moves through the second form.
“You’re overcommitting to your lunges. You throw your whole weight forward, it makes your recovery slower and more laboured, and leaves you open to attack. Look.” He easily takes his stance next to her. “When you lunge, your knee should stay over your foot, never beyond. When you recover, push off with your front foot. Don’t let your upper body collapse, or you’ll end up dropping your guard.”
She does, making sure to look within herself as she does so, and again can feel the improvement. Her attacks and recoveries are quicker, more fluid.
They run through all the forms this way, the Soresu, the Ataru, the Shien, the Niman. This is what she wanted with Luke, constructive advice on how to improve her abilities and Rey grudgingly admits to herself that Ben is actually a fantastic teacher. He is concise, encouraging, and the only time he loses his temper with her is when she doubts her own abilities.
By the time they reach the Juyo Rey is sweating and her muscles are aching but she’s desperate to keep going. For months now she’s felt like she’s been barely grasping at the edges of understanding this legacy she’s inherited and she’s finally making some headway.
“Did you know that there is a variation on the Juyo called the Vaapad?” Ben asks, as casually as if they were discussing the weather.
It’s a little surreal, to be standing there chatting with the Supreme Leader of the First Order as though their rival factions are not trying to annihilate each other. Even more surreal is how nice it feels. The lesson itself has been downright pleasant. They both feel it across the force bond, the undeniable sense of rightness when they work together.
“Kind of like how the Djem So is a variation on the Shien?”
“Precisely.” He smiles crookedly and Rey’s heart pounds. He’s a different man when he’s not overwhelmed by his dark nature, and Rey longingly thinks what kind of man he could have been if Snoke had never got his claws into him. “It’s a fascinating variation, because it’s honestly the least Jedi-like of all the forms.”
“How is it not Jedi-like?”
“The Vaapad requires the practitioner to embrace their rage and anger and channel it into the fight. They must enjoy combat, allowing their darker emotions to flow through them and give them power.” Ben’s eyes light up with enthusiasm. It’s endearing to see him talking about something he’s passionate about, but the subject matter unsettles Rey.
“It’s a Dark Side technique then.”
“No, it was actually developed by Mace Windu. A master of great renown who sat on the Jedi council for many years and was considered an outstanding example of the power of the Light Side.”
“Well if he was such a great Light Sider why did he develop such a Dark Side technique?”
“He recognised that there was power in the Dark Side that could be harnessed for the greater good. What he believed to be the greater good, anyway.” The words send a chill up Rey’s back as she recalls the discussion she had with Leia a few days earlier.
“Well, that’s all very interesting but if we’re done talking…” She moves into starting position for the seventh form but he holds up a hand to stop her.
“Why were you attempting the Juyo? You need to be a master to even begin to grasp it.” The bond has endured an extraordinary length of time and Rey wonders if the Force is trying to get a point across. It wouldn’t be the first time it has apparently interceded between her and Ben.
“What, you don’t think I can handle it?” It’s said with humour but there’s fire lurking underneath Rey’s words.
“You have an immense amount of power. Even without any formal training you’re an incredible fighter. But you can’t skip ahead to the advanced forms until you’ve mastered the basics. You need a teacher.”
The words bring both of them rudely back to reality. For a while Rey had honestly forgotten why they shouldn’t be doing this. They’re both thinking of the same snow-covered planet, the first offer he ever made her and the companionable atmosphere they had starts to dissipate.
“Have you mastered it?” Rey blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, desperate to change the subject.
“The Juyo? No. I am competent with it but I would not say I am a master. It’s an incredibly complex form.”
“Oh.” She feels better for struggling with it now. “How do you know about Mace Windu? I’ve not heard of him in any Jedi legends.”
“He was killed in the Jedi Purge.”
“The mass genocide your Grandfather headed.” Ben’s jaw tightens.
“Yes.”
The sensible thing to do would be to change the subject. But as Leia had said, she’ll never be a diplomat.
“Do you really think all those Jedis deserved to die? Just because your Grandfather wanted power?”
“That’s not why he did it.” Ben’s face darkens and the last vestiges of good feeling between them vanish.
“Oh really? Please explain to me then because I don’t understand.” Rey bites out.
“The Jedi order allowed itself to stagnate, become complacent. They embraced passivity to the point that they ceased to take any action unless absolutely forced to do so. They let corruption to thrive within the senate even when they were given every opportunity to eradicate it. They ceased to care about anything other than maintaining their traditions and in doing so allowed their own doom to creep up on them.” Ben’s voice is full of venom. “If they had merely done their duty so much pain and tragedy could have been avoided.”
“And that’s a good reason for all those thousands of people to die?”
“The true spirit of the Jedi had died long before the purge.”
“They could have fixed it! Vader didn’t have to go so far!”
“The order was rotten to the core, a cancer that needed to be cut out before it spread and killed the host. Do you honestly think that centuries of corruption could be undone just like that?” Ben’s voice has taken on a mocking tone now, and Rey sees red.
“I think there are better ways of resolving conflict than killing people!” She screams the last words, she can’t even remember the last time she was this angry. There’s another snap of power about Rey and in a blink Ben has disappeared. She gazes at the space where he had been, feeling angry and oddly bereft. She already wants him to come back, even though she’s furious with him.
We are the worst enemies.
She spends a long time in the training room trying to calm down, and when she eventually gets back to her quarters Finn is sitting on the floor outside waiting for her. He scrambles into a standing position as soon as he sees her.
“Rey! Hey, I wanted to talk to you but I wasn’t sure where you were.”
“Training.” Rey bites out.
“Sorry about earlier, we didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Finn rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Rose pointed out we were maybe being a bit too mushy.”
“You didn’t, I’m fine. It’s no big deal.” She smiles tightly. I just think I maybe have feelings for a dictator that is hellbent on ruling the galaxy and crushing the resistance we both fight for. No big deal.
“Rey,” Finn looks at her seriously. “You would tell me if there was something wrong right? You know I’ll help you however I can.”
“I promise Finn, if there’s anything you can help me with, I’ll let you know.” She smiles, a real smile this time. He’s a good man. Rose is lucky. “I’ve been training for ages I’m just tired.”
“Okay. Well, goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
They hug and Rey goes into her quarters and gets ready for bed. She lies in her hard too-small bed that somehow still feels empty, and tries to think of nothing.
****
The sacred texts that Rey had “liberated” from Ach-To are many things. They’re beautifully written and bound. The creamy thick paper is stitched carefully within the covers, some of tooled leather, some of wood, one feels like it might even be some kind of ivory or bone. The languages vary, and Rey has to translate some with the help of a data pad filled with information on ancient dialects and the occasional assistance from C3PO. They’re certainly packed with information, perhaps too much in some places.
And here lies the biggest problem. The thing the Jedi text are best at is acting as sleep aids. They are terribly dry, overly wordy and often contradicting. Rey realises after a while that each of the texts has been written by a different Jedi, of different skill levels, at vastly different points in history, often with different interpretations of the Force and how best to wield it.
What perplexes Rey most, however, is the fact that the terms 'Jedi' and 'Sith' don't appear at all until about midway through the series of texts. They appear suddenly with no explanation, as though the reader should know what they are. Rey searches for the volume where the terms were introduced, but it is either lost or was never written.
Not one text lines up perfectly with another. The information contained within is valuable, but hidden beneath layers of personal bias and pompous philosophising.
“All things are knowable through the Force.” Declares one.
“The most important thing to know is that you know nothing.” Says another.
“A Jedi must be absolutely pure in heart.” One text declares.
“Only Sith deal in absolutes.” Another condemns.
“A Jedi must walk the path of the light, and never give in to the temptation of the dark side.” One text preaches.
“It is only through complete understanding of both the light and dark sides of the Force that true balance can be achieved.” Another states.
It’s been over a week since her fight with Ben, and she badly wants to discuss this with him. She knows that to others it would seem like a bad idea. Certainly the resistance would be horrified if they knew the last Jedi was thinking of sharing ancient Jedi secrets with the Supreme Leader of the First Order. But Rey knows down in her soul that she doesn’t have anything to fear from him. The First Order itself is a different matter.
The text she’s translating right now is the one espousing a knowledge of both light and dark, and with every passage she reads all she can think of is Ben. As far as she can tell the text, the Aionomica, is the oldest in the collection. C3PO had a conniption fit when he saw she was handling it with her bare hands, insisting she wear soft cotton gloves. The language it is written in is long dead, a complex array of blocky characters made up of straight lines, read top to bottom.
“It is only through complete understanding of both the light and dark sides of the Force that true balance can be achieved.”
She reads the passage over and over. Next to it is an illustration of a figure similar to the one Rey had seen in the old Jedi temple on Ach-To, a humanoid in basic meditation pose made of white and black, surrounded by interwoven circles likewise rendered in equal parts light and dark.
So how did they go from the earliest Jedis embracing both sides of the Force to Luke commanding her to fight the pull of the Dark Side?
Rey’s getting a headache, the strange symbols starting to blur before her eyes. She pushes the book away and rubs at her temples, sighing heavily.
She needs to talk to someone about this, and there’s only one person in the galaxy who could comprehend what she was thinking of.
Maybe I should try it.
The subject of Force Bonds was spoken of in some detail in another of the texts, the Rammahgon. Rey has obsessively read and re-read the passages, especially the parts that speak of how to control it. She closes her eyes and lets her mind go quiet, focusing on how Ben’s Force signature feels when he is near her. She reaches out with her mind, searching for that same feeling.
Her mind reaches forth, tentatively, and Rey feels cold prickles dance across her skin. Gravity shifts and she feels herself falling backwards, further and further until she should feel her back hit the floor. She keeps falling until there is no longer any up or down. In her mind she sees the planet the resistance is hiding on shrink and fall away, getting smaller and smaller until it becomes nothing more than a point of light amongst a thousand other points of light.
It feels like the mirror cave. She should by all rights be terrified but all she feels is a sense of calm. There is no sound, no feeling of her body in the hard chair of her quarters. She is a thought, a lone mind flying across space, branching out further and further until she begins to lose all sense of self, lose all conscious thought. She is searching for something that is missing from her. She cannot remember what it is exactly, but she will not stop until she finds it, and when she finds it she will rest.
She cannot remember the last time she drew breath. She doesn't need to. Doesn't remember why she needs to.
A hot fizzing energy dances along the edge of her mind. There, there! That's what she's looking for! She rushes towards it desperately, the other half of her.
Her head spins as sound and air and consciousness come rushing back to her. Across from her is a large dark figure perched in the air as though sitting at a desk. He's here!
“Ben!” She smiles and makes to stand up, arms reached out towards him, then falls heavily back down into her chair. Rey frowns, bringing her hands up before her and moving her fingers slightly. Her body feels oddly cold and weak.
She catches sight of the time on her translation datapad. It is three hours later than she remembers it being.
Someone is saying her name, and strong warm hands are gripping her upper arms.
“Rey? Rey! Say something! Are you alright?” Ben is kneeling before her, solid and warm and lovely. She feels a dopey smile spread across her face and leans forward so she can press her face into his chest. She wants to hear his heartbeat. She frowns as Ben's arms hold her away from him. For some reason she can't quite articulate it's very important that she be as close to Ben as possible.
“You're here.” She pushes forward again, hungry for the warmth of his body against hers.
“Rey, what's wrong? Are you hurt?” Ben gazes into her eyes, concern etched all over his face.
“No, m'not hurt. “ Rey shakes herself and pulls back from Ben slightly. She's starting to come back to herself now and honestly wishes she wasn't. The simple happiness she had felt on finding Ben is fading away and the usual complex mix of emotions she associates with the man are starting to leak back into her consciousness.
“You seems a little out of sorts. Did you hit your head?” Ben squints at her, getting uncomfortably close. “Are you drunk?”
“No!” Rey shakes his hands off her and misses them immediately. “I just...maybe overdid it a little.”
Ben steps back, his arms hanging awkwardly by his sides. He's wearing a simple black shirt with the sleeves rolled up and loose trousers. He's barefoot. It's bizarrely intimate.
“Overdid what, exactly?” His head inclines forward slightly, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Have you been attempting the Juyo again?”
“I called you through the force bond. On purpose this time.” Ben blinks in surprise.
“You discovered how to control it?”
“Sort of. The texts give some information about force bonds. And other things. I wanted to talk to you about them actually-”
“Texts?”
“The Sacred Jedi texts. I...borrowed them. From Ach-To.” Ben crosses his arms and Rey tries – and fails – not to notice how nice the muscles in his arms look straining against his shirt.
“You know, it really is a pity you're so invested in the light side, you would have made a wonderful dark side adept.” Ben smirks, head inclined to one side.
“It's a pity you're so invested in the dark side, you would make a wonderful warrior of the light.” Rey snipes back.
“I really wouldn't.”
“There's still so much light in you Ben. I feel it. You can still come back.” Ben's shoulders slump, and he suddenly looks so very tired. Rey forgets that Ben is the best part of a decade older than her sometimes, but he looks every day of it right now.
“I can't. The light side doesn't work like that.” She can feel Ben drawing away from her and Rey steps towards him, chin jutting forward stubbornly.
“Alright, so tell me. How does the light work?” Ben gets a faraway look on his face, gaze trained on the floor.
“Mercilessly. The Jedi expected their followers to be pure of heart and soul, devoid of even the slightest hint of darkness. They had to rid themselves of all emotion. Anger, sorrow, greed...passion.” His eyes flick briefly to hers before settling on the floor again. “It's an impossible standard to hold someone to, demanding they destroy themselves until they are merely empty vessels to be filled up with light. There is no room for mistakes on the light side. No room for weakness.” It's difficult to argue with that. The legends of Jedi knights divorcing themselves from all earthly ties had seemed very noble to Rey, until she had actually considered doing it herself. Then it had seemed horrifying.
“Leia told me once that Vader came back to the light just before he died.”
"And that light weakened him, killed him. One act of light does not undo a lifetime of darkness. Once you are sullied with the dark you can never truly be light again. Luke tried to kill me because he saw the potential for darkness within me, that should tell you all you need to know of the light side.” Even without the bond Rey would be able to see the conflicting emotions swirling within Ben. How he simultaneously craved and reviled the light within himself.
“Luke was wrong.” Rey insists.
“Luke was wrong about many things. He wasn't wrong about me.”
“He was. Snoke used you, you know that? He got inside your head and made you think you were something you're not.”
“Snoke brought my darkness to the surface but it was always there. I couldn't control it. There was too much.”
Rey imagines a little boy with a monster inside his head and wants to go back in time, back to the throne room and tear Snoke apart with her bare hands.
“And how long was Snoke in there? Can you even remember a time he wasn't there, manipulating you? Pushing you towards the dark?” Ben remains silent, and Rey knows she's struck a nerve. “You can't can you? That's not you. I know you Ben, I see the truth of your feelings. You can still fight this.”
“You still think you can save me. I've murdered. I've destroyed. I killed my own Father.” His voice is hoarse. “I had too much darkness to be a Jedi and I have too much light within me to ever be a true Sith. I'm a failure on both counts.” He looks so utterly broken and hopeless that Rey wants to shake him.
“You're right. You would never have been a Jedi. You wouldn't be a Sith either. You're something else.”
“There is nothing else.”
“There is. The earliest text I have speaks of force users finding a balance between the dark and light sides. True balance. Neither Jedi nor Sith, something more. Something better. You could be that. We could be that.” She looks him in the eye begging him internally to understand. “I'm not giving up on you Ben.”
“You should.” Ben looks at her with sad, dark eyes. But for just a moment, Rey swears she sees a flicker of hope.
****
Leia is dying.
No-one wants to say it, but then again no-one really has to. The once dynamic woman is moving slower and slower, leaning first on one then two canes as the days go by. Although her face becomes pale and drawn her bright brown eyes lose none of their sharpness. Attending meetings becomes a monumental effort for her, and more often than not she sends someone in her stead, or takes smaller private meetings with the commanding officers in her quarters.
It seems like the cruellest joke in the galaxy to Rey that the legendary Leia Organa meets her end like this. She seemed immortal, unconquerable, a woman with a soul forged of pure steel and the idea that she's just another mortal who's going to die in this war before peace is restored to the galaxy seems like some kind of terrible mistake.
After the pain of losing Ben in the throne room and Luke on Crait, Rey had an epiphany. She would have to let Ben come back to the light of his own accord. The choice to fall to the dark side had been taken away from Ben. The choice to come back to the light (or somewhere in the middle, as the case may be) would have to be his and his alone.
Rey is good at waiting. She had waited most of her life for her parents to come back, even though she knew deep down in her heart they never would. She knows for a fact that there is still light in Ben, had felt it, seen it.
It had seemed easy at the time. As she felt Luke become one with the Force a wave of calm overtook her. She would put her trust in the Force, she would let what was destined to happen happen, and she would have faith that the light within Ben was strong enough to bring him back to her.
But more and more these days she wonders if that had been a mistake. What if there was more she could have been doing and she has fallen prey to the same folly that was the downfall of the Jedi order, that of inaction. Night after night she wakes in a cold sweat from nightmares of darkness and destruction, of Leia lying dead on a battlefield full of resistance soldiers, of Luke cutting her in half with a lightsaber. She's no longer certain if the nightmares are hers or Ben's. They may very well be both.
She spends long agonising minutes staring in the 'fresher mirror, gazing at her own reflection until it becomes strange to her, pushing down the nameless creeping horror that threatens to overwhelm her. More than once during a strategy meeting she has to hurriedly make her excuses and leave as her heart races within her chest, fighting the urge to scream or run or do something to escape this awful feeling that she still doesn't understand.
The strategy meetings are becoming horribly real now. The First Order has not tried to pursue the resistance since Crait, instead concentrating on rebuilding the fleet that was decimated by Vice Admiral Holdo's sacrifice. The resistance is doing the same, and the process of comparing schematics of warships and x-wings would fascinate Rey if it didn't put a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.
She's feeling pretty sick now as she stands in her room, although for an entirely different reason. Rose had come to find her in her quarters the day before, and not finding her there had looked in the training, room the mess, the war room and finally the hangar, where she found Rey up to her elbows in grease and machinery.
“Rey! Finally, I thought I'd never find you.” The mechanic puffs slightly, out of breath. “I have a message from Leia. She wanted to talk to you herself but...she had to go rest in her quarters.” Often lately Leia will have sudden attacks of crippling weakness. She'll retreat to her quarters for a day or so, although no amount of fretting by the medical staff can keep her in bed for too long.
“Is she ok?” Rey starts clambering out of the engine, dropping tools haphazardly in her rush to get out.
“Yes, she's fine. As fine as she can be.”
“The message?”
“Ah! Yeah.” Rose grimaces slightly. “You're not going to like it.”
“Rose, what is it?”
“Okay, so you know how we were talking about getting a patron at the last strategy meeting?”
Rey had been listening at the last strategy meeting up until the point where Poe announced that they were planning on launching an offensive on the First Order within the next three months. After that she had been frantically wondering to herself how she and Ben could end the war before it came to that. Every plan she came up with fell apart and she left the meeting with a heavy heart and no idea what to do.
“Um, I vaguely recall? Maybe?”
“It's ok, those meetings put me to sleep too.” Rose grins. “Well, we found one. He's a Senator of the Galactic Republic and he's quite willing to support the resistance financially, provided we send some representatives to meet with him to hammer out the details. We're sending a few people to a planet in the core where he's holding a gala as a cover, and the resistance representatives are to attend under the guise of being guests.”
“I'm not sure I like where this is going.”
“Leia was due to attend of course, but due to her health she's had to take a step back. But we still need a representative, someone powerful that will sway the Senator and impress him. Someone that puts forward a strong image of the resistance and encourages him to support the cause.”
Rey groans. “Let me guess. Someone like the last Jedi?”
“Yes...” Rose shifts uncomfortably and Rey senses that she's not getting the entire story.
“Rose, what else is there? I'm already having to attend a formal event on a core world with a bunch of rich snobs, how much worse could it get?”
“It's not important.” Rose shakes her head. “All you need to know is, Leia requested you personally, and she told me to tell you specifically; 'I know you're not a diplomat, but just pretend you are for one evening. If in doubt smile and say some bantha poodoo about the Force working in mysterious ways'.” Both women laugh. “I assume that makes sense to you?”
“Yes, it does.” Rey sighs. “Alright, I'll go. On one condition.”
“What?”
“You're coming with me. I assume Poe is going on this mission and I need someone to act as a buffer between us in case we start getting on each other's nerves again.”
“Ugh fine. It'll give me an excuse to dress up at least I suppose. I just hope Finn doesn't get too jealous when he finds out the last Jedi is my date.” Rose says with a wink.
Which is how Rey finds herself standing in her quarters wearing a dress for the first time in her life, wondering if she's made a serious mistake. Rose had helped her with the hair and make-up, spraying a cloud of sweet-smelling perfume around a spluttering Rey before running out with a mischievous cackle to get ready herself.
The gown itself is simple enough, with a modest v-neck and a plunging back. The bottom hem of the dress skims the floor and it is entirely sleeveless, which somehow makes her feel even more exposed than the open back does. It's made of a shimmering silver silk that probably cost at least a year's worth of portions on Jakku.
It's the most beautiful thing Rey has ever worn and she feels grotesque, like she'll make the silk dirty just by touching it. Rey steps into the matching silver slippers (she had adamantly refused to wear heels), takes a deep breath and makes her way to the hangar.
As they get underway Poe takes a moment to give Rey an awkward but heartfelt thanks.
“I know we don't always see eye to eye and this isn't really your thing, but thank you for doing this, really. It means a lot.”
“It's fine. I've faced down scarier enemies than this, I can manage one gala surely.”
The gala is a nightmare. It's held in a building of such gaudy grandeur that it hurts Rey's eyes, and the tables are laden with more food than Rey has ever seen in her life. The distinguished guests look at her as though they know she's a nobody from a trash planet. Poe is looking ridiculously dashing in a well-tailored suit and is the very image of charm. For all they've had their moments of conflict Rey is now very grateful for the pilot's silver tongue. Between him fielding polite small talk with the guests and Rose (radiant in a pale blue gown) discreetly whispering explanations of who and what everyone is in her ear, Rey begins to feel slightly less adrift.
They eventually work their way over to their target for the evening. Senator Terrick Barr is a pale, wispy man that constantly rubs his hands together as though he is washing them. He makes a lifelong enemy of Rey almost instantly when he greets her by licking his lips and moving to press a kiss to her cheek, “accidentally” missing and kissing just under her ear instead. Rose grips the Jedi's arm tightly, the women each pressing their nails into each others arms as they grin through the slimy man's overtures. Even Poe's legendary charm buckles under the man's sheer creepiness when the Senator casually mentions his half-dozen teenage wives on his home planet. The man is at least old enough to be their grandfather.
“Of course, you may be wondering why a man such as myself would be willing to for an alliance with the resistance.” The Senator loves the sound of his own voice, getting entirely too close to the women who are still clinging to each other.
“Well, the Force works in mysterious ways, Senator.” Rey grits out.
“I must confess that I had thought the resistance a sad crippled shell of it's former self and had thought to prepare for the coming of another empire. But when I heard that they had the Last Jedi fighting for them well, I knew I had to get you on my side.” Rey forwns, affronted.
“And if the last Jedi had allied herself with the First Order, what then?” Rose grips Rey's arm and Poe's eyes flash a warning. The Senator carries on, unheeding.
“Then we would still be meeting my dear, under slightly different circumstances.”
“You would ally yourself with the First Order. Even after all they've done.”
“When you get to be my age you realise that from one regime to another, surprisingly little actually changes for the ones on top. And I am always on top. How old are you dear?”
“I just turned twenty.” Rey swallows down bitter bile in the back of her throat.
“Really? You could pass for younger.” The man's eyes wander up and down her frame in a way that makes Rey's flesh crawl.
“If you would excuse us.” Rose all but drags Rey away before Rey does something she regrets, and Poe engages the odious man in conversation once more.
Rey and Rose beat a hasty retreat, passing the ladies washrooms and stealing into an unused study.
“What the pfassk Rose why didn't you warn me what a slimeball this guy was?” Rey cries.
“I didn't want you to be biased against him.”
“But you knew he was like this.”
“Yes, he has a reputation for being a little...well...icky.”
“A little?! Rose he has six wives, not one of them over nineteen! He's got to be in his seventies at least!”
“Totally legal on his home planet. Women there are not permitted to hold property of their own, they only have what their husbands have.”
“And everyone just accepts that.”
“The galactic republic was built on the concept that every planet be allowed to govern itself and keep it's own laws.”
“Even if you find those laws repugnant.” Rey grits out.
“Yes.” Rose is gripping the Haysian smelt pendant she always wears so tightly her knuckles are going white.
“He doesn't even care about the resistance, he just thinks they're the slightly better option because they have me!”
“We don't need him to believe in the cause. We just need his money to pay for ships and weapons.”
“And you're ok with this?”
“Of course not! You think I like being here amongst all these sleemos? You think we have any choice? Senator Barr isn't even the worst of it! The Senate is filled with corruption.” Rose's eyes flash fire and Rey takes a step back. “Even back when it was newly-reformed with Leia working herself to death to rebuild the Republic it was full of crooks and liars, and since she quit politics to run with the resistance full time it's gotten even worse. It's an open secret that the Senate only serves itself. They keep up the facade of being for the people but in reality the galaxy works much the same way it always has, the rich live in the core and those in the colonies and beyond can go hang for all they care.”
Rey blinks in surprise, she's never seen the sweet-natured mechanic act like this.
“Rose, I didn't-”
“I grew up in Hays Minor, in the Otomok system.” Rose's eyes are bright with unshed tears. “It was a mining planet. Ever heard of it?”
“No.”
“Of course you haven't. Practically no-one has.” Rose's voice is bitter but she meets Reys eyes unflinchingly. “The First Order came to my home planet and stole all the strong children to be Stormtroopers. Then they forced the remaining citizens to strip the planet of resources so the First Order could take them to build their weapons. They worked about half of the population to death. Then, when their weapons were complete, they used Hays Minor as a test site.” Rose's hands are fisting in the tulle of her skirt. “And do you know what the Senate did about it?”
“What?”
“Nothing. Not a damned thing. They didn't even release a statement. A whole planet was destroyed, but because it wasn't in the core they just looked the other way.”
“Rose I...I'm sorry. I had no idea.” Rose deflates, her anger leaving her as suddenly as it had come on.
“It's alright. I'm sorry I blew up at you. I just...feel very strongly about this.” Rose gives a watery laugh. “I know how you feel Rey, really I do. I wish we didn't have to deal with creeps like this either, but we have no choice. We need what he can give us.”
“Seriously, I think his eyes have gotten higher than my collarbone maybe twice.” Rey mutters. The women glance at each other and giggle. The giggling grows into chuckles and before long the two are clinging on to each other to stay upright as laughter shakes both their frames.
“Oh stars, Rey, he is such a creep.” Rose giggles, wiping tears from her eyes.
“Yeah, but he's a creep we need money from. So let's go out and grin and bare it for a little longer?” Rey offers her arm, and Rose takes it.
“Fine. But if he tries to kiss either one of us again do me a favour and use the Force to make him slap himself.”
“Deal.”
It was much later that the party returned to the base, having been successful in their mission. The Senator offered to let them stay the night, which all three of them vehemently insisted was not necessary. When he went to kiss them goodbye he mysteriously tripped on thin air.
Rey slumps into her quarters utterly exhausted, wishing she had thought to take a change of clothes with her so she could have changed on the Falcon. All sound goes from the room and she feels Ben's presence behind her. Of course. Because the force just loves tormenting her. She waits for Ben to make some comment. And waits. And waits. Finally unable to take the silence any longer Rey hesitantly looks over her shoulder.
It looks like Rey caught Ben midway through training. He's wearing black trousers and tank top soaked with sweat, and his hair is tied in a low ponytail. He's staring at the skin of her back with some odd combination of hunger and mortification on his face, and the tips of his ears are turning red.
“You going to a party?”
“Just got back from one actually.”
“You-” His voice comes out hoarse and he clears his throat. “You look, uh...”
“I look ridiculous.” Rey sighs.
“You don't. You're stunning.”
“I look like what I am Ben, a sand rat in a dress.” Between the guests looking at her like she was a peasant and the Senator looking at her like she was a piece of meat Rey, usually unconcerned with her physical appearance, has never felt uglier.
“You look beautiful and whatever idiot made you feel less than that should be crushed like the insect they are.” Ben growls, throwing his practice saber out of sight as he advances towards her.
“Ben you can't just Force Choke everyone you disagree with.” The mental image of Senator Barr's face going purple as he chokes on nothing is far too appealing.
“I literally can.” In spite of herself Rey laughs a little. This whole situation is ridiculous. She's chatting with the most feared man in the galaxy and all she wants to do is reach out and touch the wisps of hair that are clinging to his sweat soaked skin. “I mean it Rey. You're better than all of them. You have a power they will never have.”
“Just because I'm more powerful than them doesn't make me better than them.” Rey turns to face him fully now, head held high and shoulders back. Ben is looking at her with such intense adoration Rey isn't sure if she wants to hide from in or bask in it for as long as possible.
“You would make a magnificent Empress.” The words seem to leave his mouth without conscious thought, and as soon as he realises the implications of what he's said his jaw snaps shut, the flush spreading over his face. Rey feels warmth spread across her own face, her eyes going wide.
Mother of Moons his proposals are getting worse. Or better? They're certainly getting bigger.
Rey is entirely too tired for any kind of banter, and something Rose said earlier has been stewing in her mind. “Why do you hate the Republic?”
Whatever response Ben had been expecting it certainly wasn't that.
“What?”
“You said the Senate was corrupt, I assume you hate the Republic too? That's why you want an Empire right?”
“I don't hate the Republic. I think, in theory, it is a wonderful idea.”
“Then why?”
“Because that's the only way it works, in theory. In reality the Republic is a lumbering collection of disparate factions. The wealthiest planets in the core receive all the benefits whilst most of the planets in the outer reaches are left to their own devices. The Senate has allowed them to self-govern without any supervision for so long that most have reverted to barbarism. The Republic claim to work for the good of all, but in reality they do nothing but offer mealy-mouthed platitudes to those who need them most whilst growing fat off another's toil.”
Strange. If circumstances were different Ben and Rose would get along famously. Rey thinks wryly. “And the First Order is the remedy to this?”
“The galaxy needs strong central leadership.”
“And conquering it is the only way to do that?”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Your Mother believed in the Republic. She still does.” She still believes in you too.
“My Mother gave her life to the Republic. And all it gave her in return was heartache and betrayal. Ask her to tell you the story of how Darth Vader was revealed to be Anakin Skywalker sometime.”
“Your Mother...” Rey trails off, not sure how to broach the subject. Leia has very little time left.
“Is growing weaker. I know. I can feel it.” Ben's agony echoes through the bond.
“She wants to see you again. Before...”
“I can't.” Rey nods, pressing her lips together. It's not like he can pop round with a bunch of flowers, after all.
“She still loves you Ben.”
“I know.”
****
Rey fires up her new saberstaff in the training room, the blue blades crackling with raw energy.
“It's beautiful.” Ben says. Rey has ceased to be surprised by Ben's appearances. Even if they don't consciously reach out to each other the Force connects them on a daily basis now. She doesn't know what she'd do if she didn't see Ben at least once a day. “I look forward to seeing it on the battlefield.”
She idly twirls the saberstaff around, feeling numb. It's happening. She's going to have to face Ben in battle. Once she would have relished the thought of having another chance to beat him. Now it seems obscene. She can't possibly fight him. She can't kill him. She'd be killing part of herself.
“I've been training.” Force please don't make me do this I can kill him I can't please not him.
“Good. You'll need it.”
****
The scuttlebutt amongst the resistance is that Kylo Ren, scourge of the galaxy and Supreme Leader of the First Order, is going to be assassinated any day now.
Rey connects with Ben during a quiet moment in her room and asks the man himself.
“Yes that sounds about right.” His voice is casual but his manner is anything but. He's even paler than usual, with dark shadows under his eyes. His hands repeatedly clench and release, his jaw working ceaselessly.
“Why are you still there? You don't want to be a dictator Ben I know you don't. Why are you still doing this?” Rey pleads.
“Do you know who Admiral Hux is?”
“No idea.”
“He's my second in command. And he does want to be a dictator. Very much. He wants it so badly I believe he is willing to do just about anything to get it, including assassinate me. Or rather, have me assassinated, he's nowhere near powerful enough to do it himself.”
Incredible. Even facing death he's still an arrogant nerf-herder.
“So? Let him have it then! Leave the First Order, we can find a way to fight this, together!”
“If I leave it will create a power vacuum, and if Hux gains control of the First Order it's all over. You thought Hosnian Prime was bad? Hux won't hesitate to destroy and and all planets that stand in his way. He believes absolutely in the First Order and all it stands for. It's too late to stop it now. All I can do is make sure the monster I helped create doesn't kill too many people.”
Rey thinks of doing things for the greater good, of making deals with devils to get what you wanted and hoping the guilt didn't eat you from the inside out. She thinks of doing bad things for good reasons.
It is only through complete understanding of both the light and dark sides of the Force that true balance can be achieved.
She thinks of sitting in a stone hut, making a connection with a man she should hate.
There is no light and there is no dark. There never has been. There is just grey.
Rey finally realises what the uneasy feeling that's been brewing in her gut for the past month or so is. It's panic. She's running out of time. They all are. Her, Leia, Ben, the resistance. It's like trying to hold on to sand, the harder she tries to hold it the faster it gets away from her.
Rey can wait for Ben forever. The galaxy can't.
“The First Order will be mobilizing within the next couple of weeks.” Ben says mildly. “You should be ready.”
Rey nods, then does something stupid. “You're in the Tion Cluster.”
“And you're in Bothan space.” Ben replies, without missing a beat. “How long have you been able to tell where I am through the bond?”
“A while. And you?”
“Much the same.”
“I was researching Force bonds.” Rey struggles to speak around the lump in her throat. “You can sever them if you want to.”
“Do you want to?”
“No. Do you?”
“No.”
****
It's barely a surprise when Rey rolls over in her bunk and finds Ben lying next to her, the coarse blankets of her resistance bunk blending into soft black sheets. The Force has no sense of propriety.
Ben mumbles an apology and moves to leave his side of the bed, but Rey grabs his arm before he can go.
“Stay. Please.”
They lie like that for a long time, foreheads touching, soaking in the warmth of each other's skin and smell and the sounds of their breathing.
“I don't want to fight you Ben. I don't think I can. Whether you kill me on the battle field or I kill you I think either way I'm going to die.” Tears are leaking from her eyes, dripping over the bridge of her nose and onto the pillow.
“I couldn't kill you Rey. I'd rather run myself through than hurt you. But sooner or later we will meet in battle.”
Rey is lying on her right side and slowly, carefully she raises her left hand to trace over the scar she gave him on Starkiller. Ben's eyes drift shut as her fingers carefully skim over his brow, down his cheekbone and past his jaw, past his throat where his pulse is hammering against the skin and finally where it curves onto his chest. She presses her palm there firmly, nudges her forehead against his until he opens his eyes. She gazes into his eyes, losing herself in him until she's not sure if she's looking in at him or if she's looking out at herself.
Her lips press against his gently, so gently. Rey's very soul feels the rightness of it and she swears she can hear the Force humming around them. It's a chaste touch of lips, but even so when she pulls back she can see Ben is as affected as she is. His pupils are blown, breathing ragged. There's a look of utter wonder on his face, as though he's just been told the answers to every mystery the galaxy has ever had.
“I'm not losing you, Ben. I refuse. We're going to win this war. Together. We can't win it any other way.” Rey whispers, bringing her other hand up to trace along his jaw. “I've been thinking about this a lot, and I have a plan for how we can do this.”
Rey swears she can feel all of history teetering on a knife's edge. All the years of history and pain and suffering, leading up to this moment.
“Alright,” Ben says. “Tell me the plan.”
****
Ok so this is very late. I won't bore you with the details but between illness and computer issues I basically missed Reylo week. But hey! Better late than never. I am filling all the prompts, and will try and get them up as soon as I can.
I tried writing something straight up dark but I just couldn't do it. I have a fascination with those tricky grey areas between good and evil and started pouring my thoughts out on the page, and this happened. It grew legs and got away from me a bit, and I'm not totally happy with it but I'm sick of looking at the damn thing so here it is.
Not so fun fact: Senator Barr is in fact based on a man I have the great misfortune to work with irl. I regret to inform you, gentle reader, that I have not invented or exaggerated any part of his personality. Including the neck kissing thing and the teenage wives. Really. I wish I was kidding.
As always this is unbeta'd, I apologise for any errors. Constructive criticism is always welcome.
#reyloweek2018#reylo week 2018#reylo#rey#kylo ren#ben solo#my writing#this turned into a monster seriously this was meant to be a quick one shot how did it get so out of control
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Ozymandias’s Interlude
(full translation)
Posting it here for archive purposes.
(In Ozymandias's throne room in a pyramid)
Ozymandias: Now then─
Let's start the Ceremony of the Practice Hundred. Nitocris!
Nitocris: Yes. Ready and waiting!
Ozymandias: I shall allow even you to participate in this ceremony.
No matter how I view it, it doesn't seem you can manage it with merely the pawns you brought with you.
Hmph. Let us not have any accidents in this simulation.
It'd be bad if feedback from the shock of death woke you.
Do your utmost to strive together with Ritsuka.
I shall watch over this entire affair from up here.
Nitocris: As you command.
Now then, your resolve is magnificent, Ritsuka.
Um, now that I think on it, what was it you were going to do? Don't look like a target!
GROWL
Nitocris: As you can tell from that growl, a herd of divine beasts is gathering.
To be unprepared is forbidden. I'll do my best to control any carelessness, so surely you can do it, too! Rely on adrenaline and fight!
1) Sparks are flying...
Nitocris: Bold talk! In that case, may your actions reflect your words! I'll become angry if you don't!
2) Wait, did you say a herd!?
Nitocris: Yes. You look like you're about to cry! Or rather, you *are* crying a bit, no way!
GROWL
Nitocris: Eeeek...
No, no I won't be afraid! Even like this!
I'll do it. I can do it. Just like this..!
____________________________________________
Nitocris: Huff, huff, huff...
Haaaaah.... Somehow... that's.... all of them...!
Haaah.....
...W-we, we did it! We finally managed to beat them, Ritsuka!
Ozymandias: I see.
Your strength exceeded my expectations.
You've earned the right to hear me admit I underestimated you.
I am a wise pharaoh, a god, the world itself, but even gods and the world are not completely omnipotent and omniscient.
From time to time, people raise a miracle.
It's easy to say that's simply the way the world works, but tonight, I will not!
Fufu. That was a splendid battle, Ritsuka! You as well, Nitocris!
Nitocris: Pharaoh Ozymandias...
Ozymandias: Hm.
You endured well. You fought well. You would do well to boast.
Now, after five and a half minutes' recess, we shall restart the Sphinx Challenge in Chaldea!
1) Wha!?
2) No way, wasn't that the end!?
Nitocris: Eeeeep (tiny voice)
____________________________________________
Ozymandias: Now, time to restart. Do your utmost not to let the divine beasts tear your soul to shreds!
GROWL
1) Come at me, sphinx!
Ozymandias: To think someone just belittled a sphinx! Hahaha, that tune was meant to be directed at you, so it's best to enjoy yourself to your heart's content!
2) I can see something breaking through!
Ozymandias: Hahaha, that's the spirit. Do not lose heart. Let's view this second Amon Ra as if it were a great rival!
Let's see this so-called data reproduction. Yes, strive ever higher!
Nitocris: ...Alright. Here we go!
_______________________________________________
Nitocris: Ze... Ha....
Haa... Hafu, hafuuuuuu...... a-air......
Sorry, that, fuu, hyuuu..... Haaaaa..........
Haa, haa....
Y.... yeah.... pha..!
W-we did it. We did it.... Finally. Finally, finally, finally....!
We finally did it, Ritsuka! We showed we could accomplish the Ceremony of the Practice Hundred twice in a row!
Ozymandias: Hm.
You endured well. You fought well. You would do well to boast.
Now, after five minutes and forty seconds' recess, we shall begin the Sphinx Challenge in Chaldea's closing battle!
1) No, that's enough!
2) Somehow, it's frightening for the recess to only increase ten seconds!
Nitocris: (smiling while starting to disappear) …....................
1) Nitocris--!!
2) Come back, come back, Nitocris!
Nitocris: (stops disappearing) Hah..!
T-too much of an honor... Due to this absolute height of delight, I carelessly flew from this world....
U-um, um um, Pharaoh Ozymandias, if this is truly the final battle, then with my last breath I'll--
Ozymandias: UNNECESSARY!
Nitocris: Pya..!
Ozymandias: ...Hmph. There's no need for you to obey so humbly.
Respect rather than your hearts. Your thoughts about myself. All was apparent from your form alone as you challenged the second Ceremony of the Practice Hundred.
This god king has received it clearly and is finished. An offering greater than this is unnecessary! There has already been a sacrifice!
Too much praise or respect would be counterproductive; let's speak without civility from time to time.
Nitocris: P-please forgive......
Ozymandias: VERY WELL. I FORGIVE ALL!
Take it easy and rest, Nitocris! It's alright to be too serious and wear yourself out if you wish, but if you do so too much, you must understand your body will come to harm.
I, a great god, have torn up thirty percent of my reserves. I shall show you no less than twice the restoration effect you'd receive from your bedroom!
This is my blessing as Ra!
Nitocris: (smiles) Haha. I shall gratefully accept your kindness.
Pharaoh Ozymandias! I who have born my soul, Nitocris, shall rest in the inner sanctum!
Ozymandias: I see. In moderation, yes.
Now, Ritsuka. What was it I saw in you?
Hmm...
Draw near. Another two, three steps. I allow you to approach my throne.
Yes. That's good. Show me your face. I want to see your eyes.
...Hm. It's about the same as the time I saw it was similar after all.
First, you do not have the traits of a monarch.
Second, you do not have the temperament of a warrior.
However, you do not have talent for black magic. To sorcerers, there may be no difference, but do not become a court magician in any country.
Now. Let me see a bit more.
Oh, don't gaze at my form too much in return!
I am the sun in all its splendor; your eyes may cease functioning. Now.
────────────.
Without the traits of a monarch, without the temperament of a warrior, and also without talent for black magic. I was prepared for something, but nothing comes to mind.
Yes, you do not have the clear foresight of a wise man. You probably don't possess the intellect to pursue knowledge internationally, either.
Even so, you've managed to draw my interest.
If that's the case...
I thought there was no way, but a similarity to my friend Moses...... You───
Nitocris: !!!! Pharaoh, that's...!
Ozymandias: ───Are completely different! In no way do you resemble him!
Nitocris: (Phew)
Ozymandias: That was a man who hid the resolution to be terrible yet beautiful.
That was a man who relied on a faith worthy of beguilement and lamentation.
He was the sort of saint who would throw his life into fate without hesitation.
For the sake of others, he abandoned everything. He wished for the happiness of all people.
1) A saint...
Ozymandias: Indeed.
2) That's amazing...
Ozymandias: So it is.
But what about you? You're completely different. You possess the power to pass the Ceremony of the Practice Hundred.
That is, for your own sake. For my sake. For the sake of *continuing to live* you struggled and carried on. That's the sort of person you are.
You are transient, yet you are a strong-willed individual who embodies life; no more, no less!
That form! That gaze!
Even as you call upon the power of heroic spirits, those eyes are so fleeting. Hm. Surely there are no living things I must protect.
1) Huh?
2) Are you perhaps, praising... me..?
Nitocris: Pharaoh Ozymandias...
Ozymandias: Listen well, Ritsuka. You are a young pseudo mage who managed to swindle my summoning here in Chaldea.
RIGHT HERE! I HAVE DECIDED!
In this present day world, I shall allow you to call yourself my master!
Nitocris: What! Pharaoh!
1) ??????
Ozymandias: Hahaha, don't make such a foolish face, master.
2) U-up until now you didn't allow it!?
Ozymandias: Naturally. What of it?
If it was said up until now, it was merely on temporary license, a trial version!
It'd be best if you thought of it like a trial period!
What, did you really go without realizing?
Hmph. Do not consider me the same as the many meek and docile heroic spirits you know!
Experience all of the radiance of the sun! Even if you've shown respect by relishing all of the sun's blessings, it still isn't enough.
Strive for more and more, master.
While you are no king, no warrior, not even a boastful, great sorcerer, you are also no saint.
You cannot call yourself a hero, either. Let's call you an individual who seems to point toward the mark your path leaves.
In short...
...You are human. Merely that alone.
You should be self-aware of that fact and advance ever forward!
So long as the sun hangs in the sky, my radiance shall illuminate your path!
1) Thank you, Ozymandias.
2) I'll be relying on you from here on out, too!
Ozymandias: Of course!
….Now. It'd be fine to wrap things up here, but no.
To finish things with but a word would bring me shame. It should end more concretely, and you should also receive a reward.
Nonetheless, as expected of the awlad,
Nitocris fearfully widened her eyes and frothed at the mouth. Indeed.
Nitocris: *twitch*
Ozymandias: Now, that's right. I'll have you listen to the poetic words I recite.
I shall recite something about my beloved wife.
Nitocris: The beloved wife of Pharaoh... That's... Is that perhaps regarding Queen Nefertari!?
Such rare gossip that even I haven't heard much about... You're going to let us hear you recite a poem about her!?
That's far too gracious... Please correct your old age, god king! That's far too much, don't you agree!?
Ozymandias: This is my lavish hospitality! Heh, I shall exceed even the great poet Percy Shelley!
I shall talk of myself. I shall talk of Nefertari.
This will be no less than a poem that causes the world's very atmosphere to quiver with passion.
Sit up straight! Concentrate on my words with all your mind!
First of all...
On the bank of the beautiful, blue Nile, alone there was...
(Fade to black)
Ozymandias: …And that was how everything happened. Indeed.
Nitocris: Lovely... That was too... beautiful......
But for both of you to be too innocent and have nosebleeds at the same time...
Pharaoh and Nefertari-sama at the time of ten years of age...
And also the time when you were fourteen, and the time you were sixteen...
So you settled into that sort of adorable love.
Ozymandias: Let us draw the curtain on this first telling.
Fufu, there will be no occasion where I tell everything!
1) It seems like we've been listening for hours, but!
2) There's still more!?
Ozymandias: NATURALLY!
Well then. Now, another time--
I shall hear out your request. From the start, this practice in sincerity was thanks to you saying, “I want to hear your wish” and the like.
Because you asked so suddenly, I placed such inconvenient rules on a practice in sincerity to put your heart on display.
You almost forgot to concentrate on Nefertari's story. I forgive it.
Now? Your wish for me. What is it?
1) That's.....
(Fade to Chaldea corridor)
Gilgamesh: Hmph...
Well now, if it isn't a rare sight.
What made you think of keeping company, sun king? Having specially made your way from the simulator into Chaldea like this.
Ozymandias: Heh. Don't talk like that, gold one. If it wasn't for Master's sincere request, I would have flatly refused and not come at all.
'Don't stay in the pyramid simulation all the time and make yourself at home in Chaldea once in a while,' they entreated.
Gilgamesh: Oh?
If that's so, then very well. For the pharaoh who knows nothing of walking within Chaldea, I don't mind specially volunteering to be your guide. I happen to be in a good mood this evening.
Ozymandias: Hmm.
Gilgamesh: For example, earlier, I just lined up some coffins that are to become My Room. More than that, do you know that hole in the wall they call a reception hall in the warehouse division interior?
There's a western style structure that doesn't suit this wintery base... or so they say. It may be that it's meant to imitate a mountain lodge.
In name, it's supposed to be the Recreation Room.
It seems many of the common people amuse themselves there with electronic game machines. When we're free, let's kill some time there.
(Hooves clopping)
Artoria (Lancer): Hmm, not bad. The Recreation Room, right? If there happens to be a racing game I can amuse myself with, then I, too, shall join in fellowship.
It would be pleasant to beat up you ancient kings until you're black and blue. There's a side of myself you haven't seen as of yet, but I'll beat that up, too.
Ozymandias: Lion king!?
(Examines closely)
….Not her, hmm. A beautiful woman, then. Haha, for the time being, it'd be best if you dismounted from that white horse!
Gilgamesh: *sneer, sneer*
It would be difficult for this woman to try to dismount here!
Ozymandias: A night to indulge in sport together with a woman of peerless beauty, is it. Fufu, fufufu. No. I couldn't show this to Nefertari!
Gilgamesh: Hahahahahahaha. It's not *that* sort of sport. Well, it would be troublesome to explain, but first, it would be best to steal a glimpse!
NOW COME!
Ozymandias: LET US BE OFF!
Artoria (Lancer): Both of you, your voices are loud!
(Fade out)
Nitocris: Ah, at last. We finally did it! Pharaoh Ozymandias, together with fresh servants, with such a friendly atmosphere! Good, good!
After all, the other party was King Gilgamesh, so I had to shut my eyes!
Thank you, master. Thanks to you, it seems Pharaoh was able to stretch his wings and enjoy himself.
1) Yeah, yeah!
2) The plan was a great success!
(Flash back to earlier in Chaldea's main room)
Nitocris: Ritsuka, the truth is...
I have a favor to ask. We god kings, Pharaoh Ozymandias....
...I want you to get him out of the pyramid!
In the simulator's reproduction of the temple complex, there seem to be some faults in the way Pharaoh imagined his reality marble.
Being confined indoors must be hindering his body.
From time to time, strolling around Chaldea, mingling with the other servants...
I... I......
I would like for Pharoah to be healthy.
1) I understand; I'll do it!
Nitocris: Thank you very much! If it's you, you'll surely do as you say!
Of course, this unworthy Nitocris shall also do her best to assist! No matter what it takes! We shall accomplish this!
Even if it's just a bit, we'll get Pharaoh to leave his pyramid!
2) Nitocris, you seem like like an older sister or mother.
Nitocris: (blushing) N-no way... That view of me is too awe-inspiring.
(Changes to Medjed form)
Nitocris: TO RIDICULE THAT MUCH I AM TROUBLED!
IRREVERENCE! DISRESPECT!
BUT. BUT.
PLEASE, LEND ME YOUR POWER!
FOR PHARAOH'S SAKE!
(Fade back to present day)
Nitocris: We did it... We did it..! Uu... *sniffle* ...Finally, that cheerful appearance....
Ozymandias (from offscreen): Nitocris! Is that Nitocris!
There's no need for you to ask, so be by my side. If you will, let us go to the Recreation Room together!
Nitocris: Yes..!
Now, Ritsuka. You should come, too! We have been granted the light's joy!
___________________________________________
Profile update:
His behavior toward his master depends on his mood. If he recognizes your personality as one with the traits of a king, from time to time he may carry out orders of his own free will.
Possibly, if there's a companion who resembles his former friend (saint), his interest will be held, and he may look closely into that face.
───However, most importantly.
For him, his [Beloved] will always be Queen Nefertari, and his [Peerless Friend] will be Moses. No matter how many months or years pass, that alone will absolutely never change.
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I might have missed an ask along the way, but have you discussed the dynamic between Momota and Ouma yet? I understand Japanese enough to get by without the occasionally misinformed/misleading translations and I am FLOORED by the lack of people talking about the dynamic shift between them in chapters 3 and 5. I guess I just wanted to know what you had to say on their relationship since your metas are always on point (also bc my friend and I can only scream at each other about these two so much)
I wanted to answer these two questions together because I’mactually very excited to have a chance to talk about this! Ouma and Momota’srelationship and the way in which the dynamic between them shifts is one of themost fascinating parts of Chapter 5, in my opinion.
If Chapter 5 in every DR game is about encouraging theplayer to put aside their preconceptions in order to find the truth (trustingthat Kirigiri is lying to Naegi for a good reason, understanding that justbecause Komaeda’s murder was gruesome and horrible didn’t necessarily mean hewas killed by someone else, etc.) then ndrv3 Chapter 5 really, truly takes thecake: complete cooperation between a culprit and victim is definitely a firstin a DR game.
There are so many intentional parallels and points ofdifference between them, in much the same way that there are parallels betweenOuma and Saihara, or Saihara and Momota. I feel Saihara himself managed tosummarize it best when I was translating the Chapter 5 post-trial, and when hesaid that they “had lost the friend that they could trust the most and thefriend that they could trust the least at the same time.”
I’ll be discussing Ouma and Momota’s relationship prettythoroughly under the read more, so there will be quite a few endgame spoilers.Please read only if you’re comfortable! I’ll also be referencing things fromthe Chapter 5 post-trial quite a lot, so if anyone hasn’t read it yet, there’sa translated transcript of the whole thing here!
So, for most of ndrv3 I don’t think anyone quite expectedsuch an effective and incredible alliance between Ouma and Momota preciselybecause they are so different. For most of the early chapters, and especiallyChapter 4, the emphasis is placed on their inability to see anything from theother’s perspective.
To Momota, Ouma is simply the worst. He’s cynical, he’s cryptic, he seems to relish in saying crueland sadistic things to the group at large, and he absolutely will not playalong with Momota’s “power of friendship” shounen protagonist wishes. Momota isprimarily concerned with motivating and inspiring others, and Ouma’s constantapparent attempts at sabotaging those motivational speeches seems nothing butchaotic and heartless. Therefore, he hates him.
To Ouma, Momota is incrediblynaïve and foolish. His attempts at motivating and “trusting in” the others arenothing but a parallel to Kaede’s early attempts at the same thing, and Oumaabsolutely hates the hypocrisy of someone claiming to trust everyone sowholeheartedly when they themselves are keeping huge secrets (such as Momota’s illness,which is a huge risk to his own safety and could very well backfire if he wereto die suddenly with no one knowing about it). Momota’s beliefs seem likelittle more than idealism without being willing to make cold, hard sacrificesin order to actually keep others alive. What’s more, he feels Momota’s rashnessand tendency to rely on yelling and getting angry is a spark waiting tokickstart the killing game into action. So he looks down on Momota, and thinkshe’s a loose cannon waiting to misfire.
This conflict between them reaches its obvious boiling pointin Chapter 4. After Miu’s death, Momota wants Saihara to become more confidentin his reasoning and believe in himself—but by relying on Saihara’s skills as adetective without actually encouraging him to doubt or suspect others, this isdangerous. By contrast, Ouma notices the others’ complacency and wants Saiharato trust absolutely none of them, but to work with himself instead—but thiskind of isolation from a friend group which provides so much support for one anotheris equally dangerous. Saihara understandably is torn between their conflict formost of the chapter.
The actual trial in Chapter 4 features both of them clashingover ideology and trying to force Saihara to pick a side once and for all. And both of them are ultimately surprised bythe turn of events, which is, I think, precisely why they both begin toreevaluate their plans and strategies in Chapter 5.
Momota is forced to reevaluate his “trust everyone, believein your friends, don’t doubt anyone even if the facts tell you to” strategyprecisely because it gets Gonta hurt so badly. By fighting against the obviousoutcome of the trial and prolonging the inevitable, Gonta became more confused,more upset, and the truth hurt that much more because it was slow and painfullygouged in, rather than accepted quickly and all at once. As angry as Momotagets at both Ouma and Saihara in Chapter 4, it’s clear that he knew he himselfwas partially in the wrong for denying the facts and for blaming Saihara for “betrayingGonta”—because he definitely begins acting guilty and readjusting his plans inChapter 5.
Ouma, of course, felt that his strategy was right up untilthe very end of the trial. He wanted initially to reveal the truth gently andin a much more roundabout fashion—but Momota and the rest of the group’srefusal to believe it unless it was presented coldly, harshly, and by ruthlesslyeliminating every other possibility made him angry enough that he “proved” tothem how horrible the truth could be when used as a weapon. He was confidentthat his methods and his doubt for everyone was right, up until the very end—whenSaihara and the rest of the group still ultimately chose to support Momota, andwhen it became clear that Ouma’s own façade and aggressive actions wereprecisely the reason no one could understand him or what he was trying toaccomplish. His intentions were right, but his methods were wrong, and this is exactly what forces him into such atight spot in Chapter 5.
By reevaluating their actions and their plans, these twoarrive at the very unlikely alliance we see in Chapter 5. Ouma isolated Momotafrom the rest of the group because he believed he would likely rile up everyone’smorale and possibly jumpstart the killing game again. But instead he was verysurprised when, contrary to his expectations, Momota stopped Maki from killinghim outright with the second arrow. For all that Momota was reckless and tendedto view things in very shounen-like terms of “good guys vs. bad guys,” he stillsaved Ouma’s life. Even if it was more for the sake of preventing Maki frombecoming a killer than actually protecting Ouma, that was still the end result.And that is exactly where I think Ouma’s opinion of Momota began to change.
The fact that he told Momota directly after that point, “You’rereally not boring after all” is perhaps the highest compliment Ouma had tooffer him. To Ouma, who constantly seeks out fun and interesting things as adistraction, and who can predict so much, boredom is the worst. Being “notboring” in his eyes is the equivalent of holding someone in very high esteem.After all, these are words he offers only to characters who impressed him insome way or other, including Saihara, Kaede, and Momota himself.
While Momota was clearly reevaluating his plans and feelingguilty for the things he had said to Saihara in the previous chapter for mostof Chapter 5, I don’t think his opinion of Ouma quite changed until theirconversation in the machinery bay. It was at that point that he finally sawexactly how far Ouma was willing togo in order to stop the killing game, and exactly what kind of crazy,over-the-top, ridiculous stunts he was capable of thinking up. Ouma’sintelligence and ability to draft the script and diagrams on such short noticeimpressed Momota, but I think his “guts,” if you could call it that, impressedhim even more. Momota was someone who was all about willpower and “fightingspirit.” And Ouma’s tenacity and willingness to stop the game no matter what ittook was the very definition of those things.
Their dynamic is incredibly interesting, because theiralliance was something absolutely no one expected. Not themselves, not theirclassmates, and certainly not the ringleader. The killing game was supposed tobe a situation in which trust and cooperation was impossible right from thebeginning. The idea that a culprit and victim would ever cooperate then,especially when Momota and Ouma were paralleled so thoroughly as “the hero” and“the villain,” was absolutely unthinkable. And yet it happened, because despiteeverything, both of them were actually willing to set aside their extremelydifferent beliefs and work within a middle ground.
As always in ndrv3, working within the middle ground is thebest option. Ideals get you killed. Reckless,naïve optimism and trust is just asdangerous as refusing to trust anyone at all. Only by showing that they wereboth willing to think more realistically about the situation they were in andcooperate were they capable of accomplishing a plan so incredible that, hadthey really carried it out to the fullest (meaning, had they actually beenwilling to bet everyone’s lives on their plan) they did stand a good chance offorcing Monokuma to make the wrong judgment in the trial and ending the killinggame then and there.
They were so drastically, incredibly different on thesurface. Momota constantly calling himself “the protagonist” and maintainingthe image of a shounen hero who fights with willpower and “the power offriendship” parallels and complements Ouma’s villain façade perfectly,mimicking Ouma’s constant claims that “trusting everyone will get you killed”and setting himself up to be someone hated by everyone else. And yet it’s truethat at heart, both of them were arguably the people thinking the most aboutthe group’s well-being. Their intentions, rather than their individual beliefs,were the reason it was possible for them to cooperate.
Even to the very end, I don’t think that either of them everfully agreed with the other’s perspective. Ouma definitely believed Momota wasstill foolish and rash, and judging by Momota’s willingness to believe thatOuma was “probably just lying to him again” when Ouma confided that he hatedthe killing game and everything it stood for, showed that they really didn’ttruly agree with the other’s mindset. However, there was undeniable respectthere between them. And I think that precisely because they could never trulybe like the other, there was admiration, too—Momota clearly admired Ouma’sability to think up such incredible plans and stunts, and Ouma no doubt admiredMomota’s very real ability to inspire change and development in others.
I absolutely love their dynamic myself, and I’m sad thatthere’s not nearly enough art of them or of Chapter 5 at the moment, becausethis kind of potential for two characters to get along even though they stillhave their differences is something I love to see in fiction. I blame most ofthe current lack of attention to their dynamic on the fact that many people inthe west haven’t played the game or seen spoilers yet, but also on the Japanesefandom’s rather lukewarm response to Momota’s character design. I’m hoping thatmore fanartists will appreciate him as time goes by because he’s a fantasticcharacter, and his and Ouma’s collaboration was an incredible plot development.
Chapter 5 hurts so much because the loss of both Ouma andMomota to the group was such a blow. They went through huge lengths, ultimatelynot to actually create a “completely unsolvable case” (because they bothdefinitely left clues) but to try and get Saihara and the rest of the group tosolve their case first and then solve the mysteries they themselves wouldn’t bealive to see the answers to. They formed an incredibly unlikely, incredibly effective tag team.
This has gotten pretty long by now, so I’ll finish up, butthank you both so much for asking! I love Chapter 5 and I’m so glad there aremore people interested in Ouma and Momota’s dynamic. Their cooperation was soessential to the last stages of the game, so I really hope more people come toappreciate how they both interacted and collaborated from here on out!
#ndrv3#new danganronpa v3#kokichi ouma#kaito momota#oumota#ndrv3 spoilers //#my meta#okay to reblog#i'm so constantly upset over chapters 4 through 6#devicing#unchangingmelody
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