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hopefulceladon · 10 months ago

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︶⊹ spice up your life | jiaoqiu x reader

summary: the well-known proverb of 'getting out of the kitchen if you couldn't handle the heat' was simply overused, ridiculously overstated, and outright overdone. unfortunately, you were soon left to ponder if they were perhaps right all along. notes: i must stress that this was written well before 2.4. like… back during 2.4's drip marketing well before. the specifics of his occupation might not be accurate, and his personality might not 100% be akin to canon, but i did well for what i had at the time i think!! word count: 2.6k ao3 link: here!

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Pleasant aromas were adrift within the atmosphere, as the sounds of different steadily sizzling ingredients composed the score of the afternoon.

Despite the vegetables’ jovial singing in tune with the heat they simmered in, you found that you couldn’t share their blind enthusiasm as they boiled to the beat of their demise.

Unlike an ingredient, you had a brain capable of processing your surroundings, and a soul competent enough to send the burden of dread upon the pit of your stomach whenever it was deemed necessary.

And as you grew increasingly more overwhelmed by the vast sight of the outdoor kitchen that was bestowed before your very eyes, you realized that this, unfortunately, was one of those times.

You knew you should’ve never blurted out your desire to learn how to cook out loud, much less in front of your experienced chef of an acquaintance, but such were the circumstances you found yourself in.

Taking one last uncertain glance at the imposing cooking station before looking over at the fox-eared chef at its helm, you hesitated.

“I can’t say I’m not grateful for your offer, but... are you positive this is the best place for a beginner to learn?”

Jiaoqiu chuckled at your concern, beckoning you away from the vantage point of the nearby stool you sat upon so that you would join him.

“And why wouldn’t it be? You mentioned you wished to learn, so who would I be to deny you the opportunity to do so, all the while depriving myself of the pleasure of training someone familiar for a change?”

“It’s just that this kitchen hardly seems... beginner friendly.” you said, eyeing all the different appliances that you had, up until this moment, been completely unaware ever existed.

“Come now, don’t worry that precious little head of yours,” he replied before nudging you forward. “I’m fairly certain I can help any beginner adapt with ease.”

Looking down at the imposing cooking pot, you hesitantly gulped.

“Right... even someone like myself?”

Maybe, if you had portrayed yourself as clueless enough, Jiaoqiu would give up and you could forget you ever made the mistake of suggesting the idea in the first place. Such was your hope, at the very least.

“Especially someone like yourself,” he repeated your words with an unburdened smile, before tilting his head. “As your friend, would I truly ever dare to steer you wrong?”

Uncertain over what the knot in your stomach had churned from, whether it be from the impending realization he wouldn't give you an easy exit out of your clumsy words, or from the disarming, innocuous glance he flashed your way, you nevertheless relented, even if you were wary of trusting a Foxian’s words.

“I suppose the worst that could happen is either I burn the food, or I burn down the kitchen...”

“Ah, you act as if I’d ever allow such atrocities to be committed.” he remarked with a hum, before rolling a green pepper towards you.

Though you had little experience within the realms of the cooking world, you still knew enough to conclude that he wanted you to, somehow, chop up the pepper.

Whilst you made unstable, unsteady lacerations against the green flesh of the pepper with the knife you shakily held in your grasp, Jiaoqiu fiddled with his fan as he observed your handiwork, soon shaking his head.

“Have you never stepped foot in a kitchen before?”

Jiaoqiu's sudden comment made you pause mid-slice. Pushing the blade into the skin of the ingredient a little deeper, to insure it wouldn’t decide to abruptly slide down and attack your own flesh instead, you matched his gaze.

“I’m... slicing? I mean, I have done this a few times before...”

“In the absolutely worst possible fashion, much like you are now, I’m sure.” he said, following it up with an ever-so-patient sigh. “Should I show you the proper way?”

Though you were unsure of how aware of your slicing abilities he truly was, given how his eyes were seemingly always closed, you went along with it.

“Of course, chef, if you’d be so kind.”

Jiaoqiu hummed thoughtfully, tapping his fan against his chin while his eyes fell down your form. “Your stance is incorrect.”

“My... stance?” you repeated. “I mean, if it’s wrong, then I’m sure a demonstration on the right formation-”

Your words died in your throat the moment he cast his fan to the side took a few steps closer. The sudden brush of his arm against yours had startled you, encouraging your shoulders to bristle, but you steadied your breathing as he stood behind you.

In truth, you were expecting him to visually show you the correct stance, holding himself in place for you to imitate his posture, the formation of his frame, not to quite literally assist you. But he was the hypothetical master—no, he was the master, given the other pupils he’s trained in the arts of both cooking and medicine before—and you were his hypothetical student, so, surely, he knew what he was doing, right?

Jiaoqiu’s nimble hands palmed the tops of your shoulders carefully, attempting to push them into complying with where he wished them to be.

“Relax your shoulders, please? It’s hardly good for a chef's nerves to be high when dealing with sharp blades...” he requested softly, ceasing his nudging until you complied.

You wordlessly nodded, unsure of what to say nor what to think. All you currently knew was that the sudden softness to his tone had brought forth only the most intrusive of flutters to the nerves he was trying his best to soothe.

Once your tensed muscles had complied, Jiaoqiu moved away from your backside to shift your one hand to its proper position, doing the same to the other in short succession. Without a further word spoken, he slipped his fingers in between the ones that were gripped around the knife's handle and laid his hand on top of yours.

You merely blinked at the position your hands were now in.

“Well... uh, now what?”

“’Well, now what?’” he mimicked, chuckling to himself. “Start slicing the vegetable again, won’t you?”

His lighthearted words eased whatever in you he had inadvertently stirred by being so close, and you grabbed onto the vegetable, easing the knife down onto it. You allowed your hand to be guided by the skills embedded within his, and, rather awkwardly, your rhythms matched up well enough to slice up the vegetable.

Back and forth were the strokes of the knife, piercing through the emerald skin of the vegetable like a clumsy, yet well-meaning dance. It would've been flawlessly beautiful, had your hands still not trembling from your heightened nerves, and the muscles within your fingers hadn't cramped from how taut your grip upon the handle was.

“Relax for me.” Jiaoqiu instructed from behind you, his hands still guiding yours.

It would've been far more reassuring and far more effective had it not felt like he was whispering directly in your ear. Finally, the longing you held for the reacquisition of your personal space had grown too strong, and you hastily shifted away from him, releasing a shaky breath.

“You could’ve just demonstrated the posture!” you abruptly protested, glaring at him.

It was only then you noticed the small, yet ultimately dreadfully playful grin upon his lips.

“I could’ve? Ah, I must've gotten carried away.” Jiaoqiu replied before retrieving his fan, his fluffed tail flicking to-and-fro. “Wonderful job on the knifework, by the way.”

A very small, very impulsive part of you yearned to yank that silly fan out of his hands, but you resisted. Hopefully your resistance wasn’t because of his compliment. Surely, it wasn’t because of his compliment.

Moments later, you finished dicing the pepper and slid the contents of the cutting board into a small wooden bowl, setting it off to the side until Jiaoqiu instructed you to do elsewise.

As you turned to face Jiaoqiu, he nudged a bowl towards you and pointed at a line of spice containers.

“Whilst you were busy, I brought forth the necessary spices for the mixture. All you need to do is mix.”

It was simple, you thought, and you didn't dare to question his orders, so you dished out the appropriate allotments of the ingredients before mixing it together, proceeding through the rest of the directions you were given.

───────

In short, it seemed that ‘simple’ was the theme of the afternoon's overall instructions.

As you diced more vegetables, mixed more mixtures of spices, and finally assembled the main dish—some sort of spiced chicken with cooked vegetables, you’d have to remember to ask him for the proper name—you were, admittedly, slightly proud of your results.

And, ever the gentleman, Jiaoqiu allowed you to take the first bite of the creation you had brought forth.

It was a sweet gesture, and you were positively elated—up until something about the small bite of chicken you just put in your mouth had nearly made you cough it back up.

“Is there something wrong?” Jiaoqiu asked.

“The spices... something's off.” you mumbled in response.

Your eyes had begun to trail over each and every singular nearby container, skimming over their labels for long enough that you were sure you were soon to go insane.

“That, or your sense of perception seems to be lacking.” he mused.

You whipped around to face him.

“And what makes you think that? I gathered the right ingredients, I followed all of the directions by both the letter and your instructions,” you stopped yourself to take a deep breath, finding that your longwinded attempt at reasoning was drying out your throat. “I even diced the vegetables perfectly after you practically manhandled my hands to show me how—you even said so yourself!”

Your rambling caused one of his fluffy pink ears to twitch, mirth merrily uplifting the corners of his lips.

“Of course, but have you considered checking the labels upon all the jars?”

“What in the stars do you think I was just doing?” you replied harshly, then you immediately softened your words. “...chef?”

“You were merely skimming, but have you thoroughly checked?” he repeated himself, before nudging a singular container forth.

At his prompting, your focus hesitantly tore itself away from his visage to the translucent cylinder placed before you upon the table. Though his eyes were closed, as they always ever were, you still swore he was peering over your shoulder, evaluating your every move.

As you lifted it up to your eyes, you quickly confirmed what you thought you knew.

“It says ziran, chef. Because it is ziran. Or cumin, if you wished to comply by the IPC's standards.”

“Are you so sure?” Jiaoqiu asked with a tilt of his head.

You glared at him as you practically shoved the jar underneath his nose, an effort you knew would end up fruitless.

“Yes, I'm sure!”

Instead of opening his eyes—you really should've reckoned he wouldn't have opened them—he simply grabbed the jar out of your hands and hid himself from your pointed gaze with the assistance of his red-plumed fan.

After making a production out of his own inspection, he closed the fan with a flick of his wrist, holding the jar back out to you.

“Check again, dear disciple.”

Even if your stomach twisted itself into peculiar knots at the needless name of endearment he graciously attached to your position, you snatched the container back to begin examining it once more.

“Ah-ah.”

“Now what?” you asked, pointedly.

Even in the presence of your growing frustration, Jiaoqiu's pleased smile never wavered.

You were certain you longed for it to waver.

“Appearances can be deceiving. You need to prepare yourself for any and all surprises that might come your way.”

“Meaning?”

“Why should you merely ask, when you can taste the true meaning for yourself?”

Jiaoqiu's ungloved hand meticulously wrapped around the lid of the jar before he unscrewed it loose. After he placed the covering aside, he simply stood back, waiting for your move.

“I'm almost too afraid to ask what you're wishing for me to do here...” you mumbled.

“Truly? You possess such a bright mind, and yet you falter at this simple instruction?” he replied with a chuckle. “Come and taste the seasoning, please.”

All you could do was blink at him, astonished. “Chef, if the label is correct, and it is what it says it is, then why should I-”

“Please humor me for my sake, okay?”

You had half the mind to continue glaring daggers into his skin, to stubbornly protest his insistence, but nonetheless, though you couldn't find it within yourself to explain why, you complied and swiped the spice onto your finger.

While evaluating the spice against the senses of your palate, what you had expected to be bitter and pungent was overwhelmingly the most unmistakable mixture of both sweet and spicy instead. The sudden invasion upon your tastebuds made your eyes water, and you forced yourself to swallow it down.

“That's...” you coughed out, helplessly fanning your mouth. “That is the worst cinnamon I've ever...”

Jiaoqiu frowned at your helpless state before handing you a small vial of cooling agent he had obtained from a nearby counter. “Your eyes might've failed you, but the rest of your senses certainly haven’t.”

You hastily downed the cooling agent, nearly inhaling it, and took a deep breath before speaking. Still bewildered, you stammered. “I... I could've sworn that said-”

“Oh, it did.” Jiaoqiu softly interrupted, placing his hand upon your back in an effort to soothe you.

Lifting your head up to meet his closed gaze, you simply stared.

And then it finally clicked.

“Did... did you replace the ziran with cinnamon...?”

Jiaoqiu swiftly retracted his hand from your back and placed it over where his heart rested beneath his skin, his expression twisting with mock-indignation.

“You'd think I'd ever do such a thing to my poor, unsuspecting, dearest disciple?” he paused, adorning his hurt expression with a pitiful frown. “Why, I simply had no idea...”

The exaggeration of his countenance made it obvious what his intent was, and it truly did appear as if not even his seemingly gentle disposition could've ever hoped to stifle a Foxian's natural inclination towards mischief and misfortune.

Even as everything in you longed to scream, longed to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, longed to grab him by the cheeks and, do what, you weren't quite sure, you remained still.

And, even as the flared hue that splayed itself across the burning apples of your cheeks that you swore was from the combination of bristling frustration and the remnants of cinnamon that still singed your tongue, you just continued to stare in awe at him over his craftiness, and oh, despite such glaring signs, you trusted him. Why did you do such a foolish thing such as that?

You had half the mind to leave his sight, leave this town, leave this side of the planet and-

“Might I become your sous-chef one day?”

Oh, that was absolutely not what you wanted to say.

Except it was, and yet you were in deep denial that you even considered wishing to utter such unprovoked, irrational words. Though you hoped his keen hearing would fail him just this once, your prayers were soon to be dashed.

Jiaoqiu simply hummed at your question, his ears flicking as he processed it, his tail bristling and dancing about once he finally did.

“Might I blurt out something even more surprising?”

Hesitantly, you nodded, hanging onto his every word.

“I'll consider it.”

#︶⊹ writings #︶⊹ of fantasy's sweetest memories #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail imagines #jiaoqiu x reader #jiaoqiu x you

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i-write-things · 1 year ago

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Cuddle Spider

(Yan! Chrollo x Willing! Reader)

It is in human nature to seek warmth. Achieving homeostasis is a characteristic of all living things. When we are cold, we seek warmth, be it physically or emotionally.

Imagine being freezing outside, and right next to you is a fire. But you are not allowed to cuddle up to said fire. You can only admire. A mysterious force is holding you back from gratifying yourself with such a comfort.

That is you right now. You are the one freezing. The cold is a combination of it being winter, and the AC running too much for your liking. Even as you sit on the edge of the bed you feel no warmth. The fire is the very man sitting across from you in a chair, reading and unbothered by the temperatures. And the mysterious force is your conscious.

A part of you wants to cuddle up to him. You're well aware he would be willing to do so. He's not doing a hefty task currently. Even if he only wanted to continue reading, who could hold you and read. His heat would be certainly welcome. Not to mention, the feeling of safety that comes with being wrapped up in his arms.

However, you feel- no, you know this is wrong. This man, though charismatic, intelligent, and thoughtful in his own unique way, is a monster. He took you. Without your consent, he scooped you up and away. And while you no longer have to worry about taxes, morons for customers and coworkers, and feeling touch starved, it doesn't change the fact he is not a good person. He steals things that are considered to be national treasures for the sake of, not even riches nor status, but rather for the thrill of the swiping. And also for a second reason you couldn't quite decipher, though you have your interpretations as to what he meant.

Still. That wasn't even the worst of it. As you look at him now- his raven colored hair hanging over his forehead, covering up that mysterious tattoo and just barely dangling over his eyes. Enigmatic, deep stone colored eyes that carefully scan over the contents of the page that tells a tale of who knows what.- he acts so calm. He is calm, really. But how? After all he's done, the stealing of precious valuables, stealing of people, the mass murderings...You just can't seem to wrap around your head how he can sit here, so relaxed and at ease, all whilst knowing the atrocities he's committed.

And yet, despite this, you still feel that compelling urge to crawl into his lap. To get him to lay down on the bed you now share, and lay down on his chest, his muscular arms creating a safe haven for you. Is it real love you experience, or is it the succumbing to Stockholm Syndrome? The latter being the most likely choice in this scenario. You've been kept here for what you estimate to be about 9 or 10 months. Truthfully, you have no real idea, but this is simply your best guess, judging by the weather and seasons. Though, it feels more like a year or 2 than anything.

Stockholm Syndrome was doing funny things to you. It made you crave the touch of a man you should despise with all your might. You continue to stare and think deeper and deeper about this. Truly, you where the beauty and he was the beast. Although he was an alternate, more backwards version. He started off as the handsome prince, then revealed himself to be a beast.

You and Chrollo. Beauty and the best. You chuckle at the thought. A grave mistake to make while staring at the chap. His observant eyes picked up to you, and a small, amused smirk sneaks onto his face as well.

"What's so funny?" He asked charmingly, as if you had just giggled at a joke he made.

"I-Its...nothin'. Just um...just a dumb thought I had."

"Care to share?"

"As I said, it's pretty dumb. it wasn't even all that funny, really."

"Then what's holding you back from telling me. You seemed as carefree as the wind when you where staring at me a couple of moments ago." His mouth transformed from an amused smirk, to a smug grin. Jerk. Doesn't he know how pretty he looks when he does that? He probably does.

"I-..." Your words die on your tongue and go back down your throat. Of course he knew you where looking. He's Chrollo fucking Lucilfer, of all people.

You have a couple of options. You can compliment him. Distract his thoughts, but you know from experience he will take it, and not give you your reward of changing the subject. You could insult him. But...something tells you not to, and it isn't fear. Just a feeling that you don't want to. You could flip the tables, and ask him what he thinks it is, but he would turn it once more and back to you. He was crafty with his words like that. Lying would be fruitless, as he would know immediately. He knows all your ticks and give aways. Your only option is the truth, and hope he doesn't feel insulted.

"I was just thinking...this whole...thing. It reminds me of beauty and the beast."

"Assuming I'm the beast?" He raises an eyebrow. "and what whole thing are you referring to?"

"I just- Well, um. Okay, yes. in this situation, you are the beast. Or at least, a reverse version. You used to be the handsome prince, and now you're the beast. And the thing I was referring to is...y'know, the not letting me go, thing."

"Hm..." He watches you for a moment with those predatory eyes before speaking. "You thought I was the handsome prince. Though I have revealed my true colors, my looks haven't changed."

Jerk. Handsome jerk.

"Well, yes," You sigh, knowing exactly what he was suggesting. And, it was true. "You're looks haven't changed and...you maybe still are um...y'know. But that doesn't take away from the fact you're a beast."

"I'll take that as a compliment. The beast did anything he could for Belle, if I'm not mistaken. And she did fall for him at some point as well. Are you sure you're still Belle and I'm the beast in this whole 'thing', as you put it?"

"It's only Stockholm Syndrome." You scoff playfully, not being able to help the small smile as you cross your arms.

"Excuse me?"

"I said it was just- oh."

You realize your mistake. A very, very stupid one.

You just admitted you having fallen for him. And that stupid smug grin you so dearly want to either kiss or smack off his face isn't helping.

"L-look, okay, I admit-"

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" He queries, going to sit beside you on the edge of the bed. His hand started to slowly creep up and down your bicep, causing goosebumps to wake in his touch. Something he felt and was aware of.

"B-because I...W-well.." You nervously spout, looking for any sort of out. You can't tell this...this psychopath your true feelings. Instead of saying something smug, he does something worse:

He waits patiently and silently as you dig yourself into a deeper whole. Of course, you could deny, deny, deny. But...the fire is so close. Despite the force holding you back....if you could only just...relent a little. Besides, you'd feel releived, wouldn't you? Like finally telling your childhood crush you like them while on the playground at recess. That's exactly what this is. You're both on the playground, and he is your silly little crush, and none of this will matter. That doesn't stop your hummingbird of a heart.

Taking in a deep breath, with a face radiating the warmth you wish you'd receive from Chrollo, you finally talk. "Look, I just...Ok. I'm not even sure if I should love you. I mean, yes, I do love you, and I do want to be held and I secretly enjoyed it everytime you held me at night these past couple weeks. I cannot deny the way my h-heart skips everytime your gorgeous eyes observe my every action. Though I find it creepy, I also find it very fascinating. But I still feel like this isn't right. You-You stole many things, killed many people, and outright took me. I just- I just feel like I'm not supposed to love you."

He stares at you quietly for a beat or two after. For a moment, you're afraid you babbled on too fast, and he'd make you repeat yourself. But that's dumb for two reasons. 1. he can see and move faster than you can comprehend. 2. he speaks up after.

"None of your situation calls for normal circumstances. In the world you live in right now, your options are limited."

"Yes, but...-" Your chin is lifted up with his index finger and now you face him. What a sappy, cliche move. It doesn't prevent the already prevalent blush on your face to increase, however.

"You don't have to feel a certain way just because society wouldn't be pleased with it. After all, society wouldn't be pleased about any of this. And yet, no matter what, this will happen, anyway. So why care? It's not as though society has tried to save you."

He raises a point. A fair one, at that. That, doubled with the fact you so badly want to crawl into his arms right now. Who is stopping you? No one has dared help you before. Why should you care?

"I can see the stirring in your mind. You know I'm right." He states. You nod quietly.

"Then, what are you going to do about it?"

After a moment of silence, you give in. You gently push him back down to lay on the bed. At first, his eyebrows raise in surprise. He didn't think he convinced you to go this fast. But his confusion is soon quelled with an answer as you lay down on him, cuddling up to him in a much more wholesome manner than he thought you would. His expression softens. As you lay your head on his chest and curl up to him, he wraps his warm, protective arms around you. The book and mysterious force now gone. It all had dissolved much like a weak resolute in a strong resolvent. He let's out a peaceful, happy sigh, and you follow suit.

"You know, I've known about how you felt for some time." He reveals.

...Honestly, you knew. You are well aware nothing gets passed him. You where only just saving yourself from the embarrassment of admitting, and from the force that had held you back for what felt like a year.

"I know," you sigh "I'm just glad I get to do this now. Is it....is it okay of we do it more often?"

He let's out a handsome chuckle "Of course, my dear. How can I say no to denying you of what you desire when it's something as simple and precious as this? I had a feeling you might like this. Before I took you away, you where quite the cuddle bug."

"Hmm....." You hum. "Cuddle spider." You correct, nuzzling his chest. This felt much better than just staring at him from afar.

"Yes," he chuckles, liking your little pun. "My cuddle spider."

#i write for you #chrollo #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo x reader #writing for you #chrollo headcanon #Loosely proof read #probably a lot of mistakes #sorry if there is #chrollo x willing reader #yandere chrollo x Willing reader

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darkdevasofdestruction · 2 years ago

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Goddess of the Luo River ~ Qin Shi Huang x Reader

She is lightsome as a startled Phoenix, And he, as graceful as a roaming dragon; Her lovely complexion outshines the autumn chrysanthemum, Whilst his radiance surpasses the springtime pine.

She is as nebulous as the moon concealed in light clouds, Gracefully gliding, as snow spun by a flowing wind. He is gazing at her from afar, She shines like the sun rising above the rosy mists of dawn; Observing her close by, She is as luminous as a lotus emerging from clear ripplets.

What lies behind the mask of the 'King Where It All Began' ...?

He... Was the most cursed prince in all of History.

It is held that in the year 260 BC, at the end of the battle of Chang Ping, Bai Qi, General of the Qin Army, had the captured soldiers of the Zhao army buried alive en masse. According to the records of the Grand Historian Shi Ji, the number of men killed was over four hundred and fifty thousand.

The following year, a member of the Qin royal family being kept as a hostage in Zhao, Zichu had an affair with a Zhao dancer. Their child, born in enemy territory, was the boy who would one day become Qin Shi Huang, the First Emperor of the Unified China. Ying Zheng.

However, in 257, Zichu returned to Qin alone, and his mother, Lady Zhao, abandoned him. At just two years old, he was cast away by his father, his mother... And his country. King Zhaoxiang of Qin invaded Zhao and laid siege to its capital, Handan.

Five years later, when the little prince was merely seven years of age, living on the outskirts of Handan, he would return to his small and secluded home, having to see the insults and hostile drawings on the walls made by the citizens, and endure the ostracising and death threats from the guards.

Ever after Qin's siege of Handan, Zhao continued to hold Ying Zheng hostage. They placed him under harsh supervision, keeping him alive but never allowing him to live, all while he bore the scorn of the Zhao people.

One day, however, he will experience the foreign feeling of joy for the first time in his life; As he went to buy some groceries, receiving the hatred of the people, a young lady around his age, wearing the simple clothes of a commoner, jumped in defense of him.

"This boy did nothing wrong! Why do you continue beating down on a child who had nothing to do with the massacre? You hate on him, though you should be hating on the evil general Bai Qi, and the King of Qi who committed such atrocities! The sins of the father shouldn't be passed down on an innocent child!" the prince's heart throbbed in shock and flatter, watching someone actually protecting him, let alone say such words about him! "Shut your mouth, wench, what do you know about war and politics?!" one of the men surrounding them spat at her, grabbing her by the neck of the dress. "This child is the reason your father and brother were buried alive by the enemy, along with hundreds of thousands of other good men who protected our country!" "It wasn't this child who gave the order. It wasn't this child who killed my family, nor anyone else's. Your hearts are filled with malice and scorn from loss and poverty, but that doesn't give anyone the right to use an innocent child as a scapegoat for the evil-doings of the higher ups. It's the fault of them and the constant civil wars happening throughout the country! This country will never heal unless we show compassion and understanding!" such beautiful words, such a progressive and revolutionary thinking from someone as young as her! The prince was highly impressed, but he couldn't find any strength in his body to move, he was rooted to the spot, watching the adults throw the girl to the ground, kicking her mercilessly. "If your father heard you, he'd have disciplined your rudeness until it all bled out! How dare you, a stupid, uneducated woman, speak back to a man? Your father would have beaten you until you learnt to bite down on that vile tongue of yours." she hadn't let out a single yelp, nor did she curse or complain until the punishing was over and the crowd dispersed.

"What do they know of my father, anyway? He was a kind man, he'd never hit me for speaking my mind." the girl scoffed, getting up on her feet and patting her clothes. "Are you alright, My Prince?"

But the prince felt like crying; He wanted desperately to throw his arms around the girl, thank her for standing up for him, for defending and protecting him, but at the same time, she was bleeding and bruised after her feat, and it was all because of him. "F-Forgive me... Forgive me... Because of me, you... You got hurt... I'm so sorry..." he wanted to cry... He wanted to cry so badly... "Aiya, don't say that. It wasn't you who hurt me, you are innocent in all this mess. It is the evilness that hurt me, along with these wars and crimes that keep happening." she sighed softly. "If only there was one man who could unite the country and stop the civil wars, the people would be living in peace and harmony, and the seed of hatred would rot." she shook her head dismissively, before smiling at the boy. "My Prince, I can see you are desperately trying to bite down your tears - You needn't, not in front of me. If you wish me to, I can be your shoulder to cry on, or a reason to smile. You are a kind child, you don't deserve everything that's happening to you." the girl held his hand, squeezing it comfortingly. "Let me show you a special place."

Thus, the girl dragged the little Prince to some part of the outskirts where he's never been before; An abandoned garden that though unattended to, still retained its beauty and grace, with green plants and colourful flowers as he's never seen before. Truly, this must be the prettiest part of all Zhao, the boy thought.

From a hidden spot inside a thick bush, Y/N dragged a chest filled with the most expensive silk clothes and beautiful accessories - And even a pipa lute and make-up! "I've always loved dancing, you see. This place is my special place. Mum showed it to me, and grandma showed it to mum. Since when this chest has been here, or when did the garden get abandoned, I do not know, but I am happy regardless." she giggled softly, discarding the ratty outer layer of her clothes and putting on a lovely pink dress. "My dream has been, since I've seen mum dance for the first time, to become a dancer at the high court. I love the pretty dresses and all the accessories, and the music also. Alas..." she smiled sadly, trailing her fingertips softly across the melodious strings of the pipa. "Men with wealth and status care little that a dancer is not a courtesan, and there is no one to protect us from their lecherous hands."

Ying Zheng could only sit down and watch the girl before him transform into the most graceful fairy, and with elegant moves, her body flowed like the river through a flower meadow, and the orchid fragrance in the Spring wind. He was completely mesmerised by the beauty in front of him. "My grandma danced for grandpa only, and my mum for my dad. I, too, hope to one day marry the love of my life, and bewitch him with my dancing." her smile was so carefree and filled with glee that the prince found himself completely enchanted. "But... I like to dream big. I may be just a simple, common girl, with no family, no money and no status... In spite of this... I do hope that somehow, I would be able to dance in front of people and make them happy, and smile, with my dancing." she glided around the flowers like a peony nymph, her pink skirts flying around her like the rich petals of said flower. "Until then, I suppose I should just continue perfecting my choreographies." "Y-You dance beautifully." the prince managed to stutter out, still under the afterglow of the dance, and the stunning pose she ended in. "If it matters, you made me feel very happy." "Hao!" she giggled sweetly. "You have a gorgeous smile. I hope to see you smiling so genuinely all the time when we're together."

The prince continued to blush deeply, though his heart was throbbing with joy as never before. A single day, however, only has so many hours, and with the afternoon gone, the Sun was setting and the starry skies were reflected in his gorgeous eyes.

"W-Would it be too rude and daring t-to ask you to please be my friend?" the boy bowed down humbly at her, only to hear a sweet giggle. "Y/N. Call me Y/N. And I will call you by your given name - Zheng." she quickly took the jade pendant from her sash and tied it to his own. "There, a token of my care and friendship for you. Now that we call each other by our given name, we are soul bound." "B-But... I-I don't have anything to give you..." the boy's lips trembled with emotion. "Hmm... Let me think..." her sweet smile turned mischievous, as she placed a kiss on his cheek. "Remember what I said about the wars? That only the King of all Kings can unite our country and bring peace?" he nodded silently. "When you become Emperor, don't forget about me. That's the only thing I wish from you. To be friends forever, no matter what the course of time may bring for us. How's that sound?" The little prince looked up at her, his starry eyes sparkling with joy and love, and a soft blush painting his porcelain cheeks. He grinned widely, like a happy child, and he repeated the single word that she adopted from her - A word that will become his most favourite word. "Hao!"

Many days passed, and the friendship between Zheng and Y/N only grew stronger, and so did their crush on one another. Y/N became even more protective over the boy, thus receiving even more scorn and disciplining - The adults could afford disciplining an orphan girl with no status, but they couldn't beat the Prince. Even his deep sorrow dissipated when he saw her dance.

That is, until Y/N walked him home one afternoon, and there, waiting for him, was a woman, blowing into a spinning windwheel. "Are you Ying Zheng?" the stern-looking woman asked. "Who asks?" Y/N frowned, stepping protectively in front of him, glaring at her viciously - But the boy was mellow and didn't want to upset anyone, nor incur another's wrath, and he simply bowed and affirmed that it was him, the prince. "I didn't think you'd be so young. Tsk." she frowned, rolling her eyes. "Who are you and what do you want with the Prince?" Y/N's loud and firm voice made the woman's eyebrow rise. "I'm Chun-Yan, his new live-in caretaker and bodyguard. Which means..." she jumped off the stone lamp and though she could tower over the prince, as the girl was right there, shielding him, she still felt intimidating. "I can roll you, fold you, or do whatever the hell I want with you." "Yes, ma'am, it's a pleasure to meet you." the prince bowed deeply, only for the girl to hiss at the woman and close her fan, bonking her in the head. "Who do you think you are, threatening a child like this? I'll kill you if you even look at him the wrong way." Chun-Yan was rather amused by the braveness of this peasant girl, and she scoffed, straightening up and walking towards the humble home of the prince. "Well, whatever. First things first, show me around this place."

As she opened the doors, she noticed the dilapidated state of complete disrepair that the small home of the hostage prince was; A complete dump filled with broken windows and walls, and furniture, mold growing everywhere and everything was shit.

"God, what a dump this is! Though, I guess it suits a reject from the Qin royal family." the nasty comment made Y/N yell at her again. "Fuck off, will you?!" the woman stared in shock - A little girl cursed like a sailor man! "You are just as evil as all the others around! We don't need you here! Go away! You're only going to hurt him, you evil, nasty woman!" "D-Don't worry, Y/N! It's really okay!" Yin Zheng forced a wide smile on his face. "Would you like something to drink? If water is alright, I'll go fetch some." he bowed again. "... Are you really seven?" she muttered in disbelief before slumping down on the table. "I DON'T LIKE YOU!" she yelled, pointing a finger at him. "A kid your age oughta be crying or throwing a fit at the drop of a hat, but you've just been grinning ear to ear this whole time. It's givin' me the creeps." Y/N didn't even have the time to yell at the woman again, for the prince started dancing around like a monkey. "Are you makin' fun of me?!" "WILL YOU JUST LEAVE HIM ALONE ALREADY?!" Y/N's anger was through the roof. "Who do you think you are, treating him like this?! I bet you lost someone to the burying, didn't you? Well, that's you and EVERYONE ELSE IN THIS CITY! INCLUDING ME!" she glared up at Chun-Yan, who looked flabbergast at the girl. "I lost my dad and brother! My mum killed herself from grief! I've been all alone to survive and fend for myself since I was barely four years old - But I don't go around blaming a child for the evil-doings of those warmongers! Why is it so hard for adults to understand that Ying Zheng did nothing wrong?! That you should be blaming THEM, not a child who was barely a BABY when it happened!" the woman was stunned. "You are a woman! Women are supposed to be gentle and caring towards children! You are a disgrace to all of girl-kind!"

The woman remained silent for a few seconds, staring down at the gleaming eyes of the girl who started crying from the deep rage she felt - And suddenly, Chun-Yan felt guilt and remorse. The girl was right, she wasn't any different than everyone in Handan, or Zhao itself. To think a child would have more wisdom than a rage-blinded adult...

"Let's clean this place already. You can't expect me to sleep in some dingy hut like this." Chun-Yan scoffed, taking the broom and beginning to clean this place properly - Though no amount of work could properly make this run-down home into a beautiful and safe haven.

Regardless, Ying Zheng and Y/N helped in the cleaning up, and though the boy felt incredibly on edge around a stranger, Y/N and Chun-Yan were constantly yelling at each other. The place was... Pretty loud and tense - Yet thus began their unusual pseudo-familial life.

Chun-Yan took the two children for grocery shopping again, only to see the true horrors of the prince's daily life, as one of the merchants threw the food on the ground, urging the prince to eat the sand-filled meat - At the same time, Y/N quickly jumped to shield the boy, as the people around started glaring at him, accusing him of killing their children or relatives. They all wanted to kill him, while he could only force a smile and bow at them humbly.

Anger. Curse. Hate. Curse. Kill. Curse. Evil. Curse. Grudge. Curse. Sad. Curse.

When they returned home, Chun-Yan stopped the lone boy from going to rest, and revealed the many injuries on his body. Apparently, whenever he saw someone getting injured, his own body started getting scars in the same place, and feel the pain of said person. Y/N knew, and that's why she tried her best to protect him, but it wasn't always working. It was all because of the constant hatred from the people of Zhao that he developed such an accursed condition.

It was just a little pain, he'd say. The wounds will heal, eventually... Though his body said another thing, and he almost fainted. Ying Zheng's smile had been instinctively learned by him at the mere age of seven, as a way to allay, even only slightly, the hatred constantly searing his body. "Some day, maybe they'll forgive me... Won't day?" a most pitiful armor.

"Forgive you...? Who do you think you're kidding here?! Huh?! How the hell can you just keep grinning like an idiot?! Why don't you get angry?! Why don't you hate them?!" Chun-Yan started crying - She was now fully understanding Y/N's angry tears and the frustration she felt at the way Zhao was treating an innocent child. "What happened back then... At Chang Ping... HAS GOT NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU! IT ISN'T RIGHT THAT YOU'RE GETTING HURT! SO STOP FORCING YOURSELF TO HOLD BACK! IF YOU WANNA CRY, THEN CRY! IF YOU'RE FEELING MAD, THEN LET IT OUT! STOP KILLING YOURSELF FROM THE INSIDE AND LYING TO YOURSELF ABOUT HOW YOU FEEL!" she yelled at him, falling on the ground weakly, watching the still forced smile on his face. "G-Get angry...? Cry...? I-I could never do that... B-Because I'm... I'm the child of a nation that kills people. I-I'm a cursed child... Th-That's why, I..." for the first time in his life, Ying Zheng felt the embrace of a mother. "It doesn't matter how awful your parents are - Their kid doesn't deserve to be punished! You haven't done anything wrong, nothing at all..." tears were drenching her face, all the guilt and regret overwhelming her. "Y/N was right... Y/N cares so much for you, she only wants the best for you." she found herself speaking in a milder voice. "You're a kind person, who understands people's pain. Your wounds are proof of that, not some punishment or curse." the boy's body was trembling violently. "Ying Zheng. You can live however you want to live."

For the first time in his life, Ying Zheng allowed himself to wail out all of his distress, all the pain, the agony and suffering he's been feeling this entire time, and his mother figure encouraged him. "Why me?! I haven't done anything! Nothing at all! I hate them! I hate everyone! DAMN IT, DAMN IT, DAMN IT ALL!!!!!!"

It was the first night he slept peacefully, and when he woke up, the woman offered him a pretty scarf to cover his eyes. If he can't see the pain of others, then maybe he won't be feeling it? It was worth a try. She made it herself, after all. When her child was still alive, this used to be a piece of cake for her to do.

The boy, with the most beautiful smile in the world, tied the scarf over his eyes. "HAO!" he joyfully exclaimed. "Thanks, Chun-Yan! I'll take good care of it!" "Hao? I like that word too!" the woman grinned at him. He truly was adorable.

Since then, Y/N and Chun-Yan became the only persons Ying Zheng could be around and not feel any pain. Every day he spent with them, Ying Zheng was able to smile and have fun from the bottom of his heart. They would clean up the graffiti and even learn martial arts - Sometimes, they'd even prank the people who used to bully him; And his smile became more and more cheerful. Ying Zheng was truly happy.

However... King Zhaoxiang of Qin, and soon after, his son, King Xiaowen, passed away - And so, in 250 BC, the man who abandoned Ying Zheng, Zichu, ascended to the throne, and thus... Ying Zheng unexpectedly became the crown prince, the first in line to the throne, and was permitted to return to Qin.

"Ha! To think that some silly words I said would actually come true. I must be a Seer or something." Y/N grinned at the crying boy. "Crown Prince Ying Zheng. That sounds very good! Hao! I like that!" "Won't you come with me?! Please?! Please?! Don't leave me alone, I need you! We are friends, aren't we?!" the boy was sobbing, holding tightly onto the girl. "Forgive me, I cannot." she sighed, embracing him. "Not only am I a Zhao citizen, but... I am also a peasant. I would never be allowed anywhere near the Crown Prince." she kissed his cheek, patting his hair. "But when you get older and ascend to the throne - If you still remember me, and want to see me again, then you can always send for me. I will wait for you a thousand lifetimes, if needed. Just to see you again. The beautiful boy with the starry skies in his eyes."

Before he left, Y/N stole a quick peck on his lips, and waved him goodbye; Whilst Chun-Yan was laughing copiously, she had to drag the stunned boy away, his face burning fiercely from a blush. "I'll make you my Empress, Y/N! Wait for me! I'll keep my promise!" they truly were adorable, the woman thought, as the carriage left for Qin.

Thus, however, not only Y/N, but Ying Zheng would remain alone for so long, as Y/N had no one else in Zhao, and with the scorned people of Zhao no longer holding the prince as a hostage, they sent mercenaries to kill him. As a last motherly act of love, Chun-Yan used her martial arts to battle them all, though she would be fatally injured. "YOU STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM MY KID!" she yelled, killing the last one.

As she lay dying in his arms, she told him the truth - That Y/N was right about her all along. She was a scorned, grieving parent, with her child, similar in age to the prince, having been buried alive. Her beloved Chun-Ou. She could do nothing to save him, for she dug in the dirt with her nails desperately, but couldn't even find him to give him a proper send-off. She wanted too see the prince, to scold him for being a useless, evil brat... She wanted to vent her anger and resentment... But she couldn't.

If a kid like Ying Zheng could become the King - Someone who could understand people's pain... Perhaps someone like him could change this fucked-up world a little, the very same way he changed her. "Become the greatest king of them all." it was the same promise that Y/N also bestowed upon him.

Before she died though, she didn't see Ying Zheng, but Chun-Ou. "I didn't know you were there, Chun-Ou. Let mama get a good look at your face." "Mama..." the prince held her dearly in his arms, placing her hand over his face, and he smiled at her, watching how vitality swiftly dissipated from her eyes. "Hao." she lay lifeless in his arms as he wept for her.

Afterward, Ying Zheng arrived safely at Xianyang, the capital of Qin, and on July 6th 247 BC, following the death of Zichu, Ying Zheng became the King of Qin, at the mere age of twelve.

"Let's walk my--..." Ying Zheng smiled, tying the scarf around his eyes. "No. Let's walk the Path of an Emperor. Together. Y/N. Chun-Yan." and true to his words, at 37 years of age, Ying Zheng became Qin Shi Huang, The First Emperor in History to unite all of China.

On the day Ying Zheng was crowned as the King of Qin, he also began being pestered by his advisors and elders to marry soon and produce an heir; After all, every King must have a Queen and concubines to perpetuate the royal lineage. Of course, the Prince didn't care for such things, nor did he want to think about anyone else that wasn't Y/N - But they were still so young! Life was fully ahead of them! On the other hand, it could be a great pretext to bring Y/N to the court and start lavishing her with all the luxuries that the palace has to offer.

Though the King of Qin had room for surprise, along with all the people at the royal meeting, as the large doors of the palace were pushed open, and a beautiful young lady resembling a flower fairy, dressed in rich silks, pink like the petals of a peony stepped on the golden rug that led towards the throne. She had a long spear in her grasp. As she started singing, the King ripped the scarf off his face, and those starred eyes gleamed with glee, his smile wide like never before. They truly must be soulmates, if Y/N could do exactly the same thing that he himself intended to do!

Two loving souls, so cruelly parted In madness and grief, a dark path started Calamity was drawn, rituals subverted But by her lovely dance, was sadness averted.

Ying Zheng didn't think it humanly possible, for a human to glide even more gracefully than he first saw her dancing, a few years prior.

The Phoenix returned to a home without luster; The cobwebs overgrown, the grave-shrouds a-fluster. But one bond upon her, This world could not muster.

"Thus does the tale of the Auspicious Phoenix end - Yet today, a new melody I have to append." the King was truly mesmerised by her lovely voice, and the way she lit the spear on fire and twirled it around so masterfully, kicking it and rotating with it, throwing it in the air, creating the image of a dancing Phoenix. "Hao! Sing me a happy story, Y/N!" he grinned, leaning forward in his throne.

From the world she seems apart But there is one who knows her heart With graceful swaying and a flaming spear To still the raging skies and the shattered hearts

Y/N's smile was so enchanting that it bewitched the King - Her dancing was as she hoped, a means to grow the seed of joy into people's hearts, replacing the darkening hatred.

The Phoenix once returned, And at once, she was spurned. She turned, and left alone...

Y/N, in a swift move, extinguished the flames from the spear, and stepped up the stairs leading to the throne. "Though now, she might be found to whom she is bound - Her love."

Ying Zheng's face was split by a wide, cheerful grin, and in an unexpected move, he threw his arms around the girl, pulling her into his lap and kissing her cheek. "Hao! My Phoenix returned home!" "Just in time to see her beloved dragon soaring the skies." she replied tenderly, only multiplying the excitement of his heart. "The only dance I love above all is that of the Phoenix and the Dragon amongst Heavens." he declared boldly. "Y-Your Majesty, who is this woman?! And how did she even manage to get inside the palace? With a weapon, no less!" having escaped the charm of the beautiful maiden, the elders started murmuring amongst each other. "She is the Empress, of course!" Ying Zheng laughed merrily, loving the unrest amongst his advisors, telling him he couldn't just marry anyone. "I am the King! I can do whatever I want!" and true to his words, Y/N had a most beautiful coronation ceremony, and her red and gold robes truly made her look like the Phoenix that she was.

Not only the Kingdom of Qin, but the whole Empire of China was going to prosper greatly under the rule of Emperor Qin Shi Huang and his Empress, Y/N. She was there to help him rule, with equal power as his own, and a fantastic wisdom and benevolence like no other. She was there to guide him as he walked the path of killing the demon Chi You. They lived a good life, along with all the people of China.

The two would love each other and live in perfect harmony until their eventual death due to mercury poisoning, at an age before even reaching half a century.

In the afterlife, just like in reality, Qin Shi Huang would have to fight to protect his people, as he was chosen as a human representative fighter in this mess the Gods created, Doomsday, the wish to eradicate mankind. He already killed a demon, and now, he was ready to kill a God.

He couldn't wait for too long in his own room, and with how directionally challenged he was, he walked through walls until he found the Gods' private balcony where Ares and Hermes were, and he flipped the God of War out of his seat, getting comfortable on the cushy seat, even causing the Messenger God to pour him honey mead.

"You know I can't walk fast in these clothes, you little menace." a feminine voice, very much amused, took the attention of the two Gods. "Oh, that's a lovely view of the arena!" the regal looking woman shamelessly sat on his lap, her arms around his neck as he offered her his drink. "This is really good! Can we get more?" bowing, the butler looking God poured some more.

The doors were slammed open again, and the little Valkyrie, Goll, yelled at them, followed by the elder one, Brunhilde. "Goodness! Even after I'd expressly told you NOT to leave your room - And what's more, you've left the corridors FULL of holes!" the elder one was more amused than scolding. "Mou mantai!" the two laughed, free of any care. "The road is where I lead!" he grinned, holding onto Y/N's waist, clingy like a child. "Come on, we have to go." Hilde spoke. "I refuse! We've taken a liking to this place! And besides, we definitely won't grow bored here." the man exclaimed. "In case you weren't aware - YOU will be fighting in round Seven." Hermes and Ares gasped in shock, as the Emperor, holding his love in his arms, jumped on the backseat of the couch.

"HAO!" he grinned confidently. "Finally! I'd grown tired of waiting!" "Now, let's head to the entrance gate, shall we?" Hilde sweatdropped at the unhinged behaviour of the bratty Emperor. "The dragon soars the path of the Emperor! The road is where Qin Shi Huang leads!" Y/N declared boldly, unfolding her fan dramatically.

From underneath the Gods balcony, all of China's Emperors after Qin Shi Huang unraveled a large red and gold rug, making way for the very first Emperor to lead the way to victory - Covering all the minor Gods from the stands. None mattered, except for Qin Shi Huang.

"Hao! That's how the Emperor has to be treated!" Y/N hopped from his arms, and off the balcony, waltzing ahead and leading the way forward - From her sleeves, butterflies would flutter, and where she waved her fan, red flower petals burning like cinders would breeze in a majestic dance, matching her own enchanting one.

She is lightsome as a startled Phoenix, And he, as graceful as a roaming dragon; Her lovely complexion outshines the autumn chrysanthemum, Whilst his radiance surpasses the springtime pine.

She sang the song that Ying Zheng loved the most, resembling the Goddess of the Luo River - The Beauty of China, Luo Shen. Though the Emperor hated that she ended up so heart broken over her husband's death, going so far as to drown herself in the river - He couldn't help but admire the pure love between her and her husband, mutually intertwined, just as he and Y/N were; Truly, all his life, he admired everything about her, and strived to become a man worthy of her lover. He wanted to be the man she could depend on, the man who could prove for her.

And thus, he became the Emperor.

As the song ended, Qin took out the bamboo flute and, stepping into the ring and playing the tune that harmonised perfectly with his Empress' graceful moves. Her dress, a deep shade of red like fire, flew around her like the Auspicious Phoenix that she was, and with her golden Dragon, they danced the Celestial melody of Heavens.

Heimdall, as well as all the rest watching, were mesmerised at the elegance displayed in their bonding, true love like no other radiating strongly from their smiles; He couldn't even begin the introductions as he watched the Emperor pick his lady in his arms, two fates intertwined, dancing coiled around each other eternally - And ending with a kiss. Their fairy-tale like love made all those watching deeply envious.

As the two lovers kept gazing into each other's eyes, the God announced the Emperor's great deeds, before calling out his title as the humans all chanted his name; the Gods boo'ed, angry that he was so arrogant, even going as far as too show off his love-life like that. As Y/N kissed him shamelessly, in front of the whole Valhalla, a young lady, Alvitr, had rageful tears in her eyes for being left forgotten at the Mankind gate.

"Mou mantai! I'm an Emperor, after all." he waved dismissively, before picking her up carefully in his arms. "Come a little closer." she was blushing so bad. "No need to be so rough, my boyish young lady." he chuckled lightly. "Don't worry, little lady. Zheng is going to take good care of you." Y/N patted her hair, watching her completely fall in love with the handsome man, and in one burst of lightning, the Volundr was formed. "Hao! This fits me nicely!" he grinned, showing off his Almighty Spaulders. "As handsome as always, my darling." she kissed his cheek again, though she felt a chill shiver down her spine as the God of the Underworld, Hades, walked forward.

Not only was he ready to avenge his brother, but he was also feeling envious at the way Y/N so openly loved and pampered her husband, the same way he wished his beloved Persephone would.

Before this battle of King vs Emperor could begin, Y/N gladed towards the stands where the Emperors were standing - Right where Chun-Yan and Chun-Ou were, and she got helped up in the stands. An Empress shouldn't have to find her way around the maze-like corridors - The First Empress of China had every right to walk the shortest and easiest road to where she wished to.

As the fight began, Hades thrust forward a single strike, loaded with tremendous power - A single thrust meant to kill. He continues to attack with one heavy-class jab after another, but the Emperor never once got hit; And even when he used one of his strongest attacks, named after his wife, Qin Shi Huang only had his body nicked.

The next straight thrust, the Emperor deflected, easily catching the handle of the bident before throwing back the attack - His own power added to that of Hades, sending him sailing backwards painfully hard - It was Qin Shi Huang's Chi You - Armor form: Sword, Armor, Spear, Crossbow, Halbert - Heavenly Hand of Defense.

As they say, the best offense is a good defense. The reverse is also valid. "Hades, King of the Netherworld... Was it? Let me tell you a thing." as the dust evaporated, the God's form was slumped to the ground, a large crater in the wall where he hit it. "There can only be one Emperor in the world, and that man is I!" he confidently declared.

He didn't fight for six whole days against the Demon God Chi You for nothing. He didn't raise above all the other so-called King for nothing. He didn't become the first unifier of China, the first Emperor, the King where it all began - For nothing!

Ying Zheng - Qin Shi Huang - Was the only man worthy of being called The Emperor!

Hades managed to stand up. He was bleeding from his head and his torso was injured. "Qin Shi Huang, was it? Tell me one thing - What in your eyes makes a King?" "A king?" he grinned. "One who never doubts! Never yields! Never relies! And always stands as the leader of his people! That is what makes a King!" Hades was awestruck by the answer, and even started laughing merrily. Nobody alive ever heard the Lord of the Underworld laugh so boomingly. Ying Zheng joined in the laughing. "You remind me of someone I know... All too well. He was more noble than any other God, more steadfast than any other - And the God most worthy of the title of King. My younger brother, Poseidon, King of the Seas." he extended his arm forward, showing off the weapon. "And I swear by his name, as his elder brother, I shan't give in to a mere King of Men!"

Thus, with a weird stance, Hades unleashed an attack, the proper way of fighting with a spear; With all his might, he delivered a crushing downward swing. The Emperor shielded himself with his arms. "I AM THE KING OF THE UNDERWORLD - HADES! FALL AND BE CRUSHED!"

The King of Men was slammed face-down, flat onto the ground. "ZHENG!" Y/N yelled his name, watching his spit a bunch of blood, struggling to stand up. "Ahh, it's sticky, all soaked with blood. Buhao." he groaned, hanging his head. "Mou mantai..." he sighed, a little disappointed as he took off his cherished scarf. All Emperors bowed down in his honour, gazing his handsome face for the first time. "Now then - Shall we continue, King of the Netherworld?" he grinned confidently. despite the blood painting his face. "So you can take one of my attacks and still smile. I would expect nothing less from a King!" Hades grinned, launching into a ferocious flurry with his rigid spear.

Qin Shi Huang has no choice but to roll with the thrusts; He was waiting for an opportunity to use his special technique. As Hades used the Smasher of Earth down on his head, the Emperor had to shield himself again; But this time, he didn't fall - Using his breath to weaken the attack, he grabbed onto the blade of the bident, and slammed the wielder into the ground, breaking it.

But just as before, any wound that Ying Zheng sees, he receives also - And though he managed to injured Hades, he also felt intense pain. Even in a direct combat, Qin used his breath onto Hades' chest, and with his claw-like fingers, he used the Mount Tai, Dragon Claw technique, delivering an intense strike, leaving an awful mark onto his abdomen.

Ying Zheng's starry eyes weren't just beautiful - They could actually see the stars of living beings. The flow of Qi. Qin could see the cruxes as stars. The double edged gift that served him as both a blessing and a curse. "Ahh, this is why I hate fighting with my eyes." Qin grinned, baring through the blazing pain in his abdomen. "Aw man, that really hurts."

"Don't make fun of me... Do you call yourself the Greatest King?" Hades chuckled light-heartedly. "King of the Underworld, you are strong - But I promised two special people that I would become the Greatest King - So I can't lose to anyone!" to get the most out of his fantastic martial arts, Qin Shi Huang was given a Divine Weapon specialising in defence - Alvitr; The secret ability behind her name is - Army Guardian! "You are strong, King of Humans. A promise of never losing, right?" Hades clenched his fist around his own blood. "I also have something I want to protect. My oath."

Thus, Hades advanced again, spinning his bident like a windmill, destroying the air bullets coming his way - Qin could barely defend himself against the attacks coming his way, though even when he struck, the two were equal in power, and Hades' forearm was mauled. "Even though you're human, you made it this far, huh? I'm going to kill you... But first, I wanted to say that you were magnificent." Hades declared boldly. "Hao!" Zheng grinned at his opponent.

From the stands, every human was cheering for the Emperor. Y/N especially was the loudest, along with Chun-Yan and her little boy, Chun-Ou.

Once again, Hades did something remarkably unusual - Not only did he begin to whistle the tune of his dear younger brother, Poseidon, before self-inflicting a large gash on his chest and splattering not only himself, but his weapon in a shower of crimson life essence. Drenched in blood, Hades rushes Qin, changing mid hit his thrust into a downward swing - He managed to find a way to counter his disruption of Qi. "You pose no threat to me."

Hades' blood wasn't SIMPLY blood. "Assemble!" the King of the Underworld ordered his weapon to transform into a mighty strength to be reckoned with; Any Divine Weapon that his blood, the Pluto Ichor, spills upon harbors the God's life force and becomes even more powerful... But the longer he keeps it up, the higher the risk of death. "King of Men, this is my trump card." he got in a battle stance with his new weapon, the Four-Blooded Spear of Destiny - Ichor: Desmos. "Tear at his flesh - Desmos!" this almighty thrust managed to break through the powerful armor of the Emperor. "I cannot lose. As their elder brother, I shan't be defeated!"

The Valkyrie Alvitr made herself seen to her human, worrying over him - Not only half of his hand, but his shoulder also were heavily destroyed. "Mou mantai. Compared to the pain of others, my own pain is scarcely anything to bear." he declared selflessly, like the fantastic leader that he is. "Alvitr... If we don't do something, we stand no chance at winning. I think we should bet everything on this next strike." he spoke, more seriously, only to annoying the young Valkyrie. "THAT WAS PATHETIC!" she yelled at him, as a scold. "SAY WHAT YOU WANT LOUD AND CLEAR, LIKE AN EMPEROR! YOU SHOWED OFF WITH YOUR EMPRESS LIKE THAT - AND NOW YOU WANT TO LOOK UNCOOL AND DIE IN FRONT OF HER?! IN FRONT OF EVERYONE BELIEVING IN YOU?!" she huffed like a brat. "How haughty of you, my boyish young lady." he smiled, looking up at the stands where his most cherished people were cheering on him. "I WANT TO WIN NO MATTER WHAT!" he yelled, loud and clear, as he should have. "Haha, I know! Really... You Kings are so stubborn!" she giggled, reinforcing their bond even further. "Let me give you all the power I've got!" thus, the Almighty Spaulders were recast into the Shi Huang Goujian Sword. The best defense truly is a remarkable offense.

"I am EMPEROR! King among Kings! And a King only takes pride in protecting his people!" Ying Zheng's starry eyes shone brightly with hope and power, whilst his dazzling smile remained as confident as ever before. "Excellent, O, lofty King - Now let us tear at his very heart, Desmos!" he, who bore the pride of the Gods and laid down his own life; The King of the Netherworld -- And he, who knew the pain of others, and fought for the sake of his people, the King Where It All Began.

Only a King can understand the mind of a King. And these two Kings could both tell that the end of the match was nigh.

Hades went forward, using Desmos: Eos once again, and Ying Zheng retaliated with Chi You: Sword Form; Shi Huang Yan cut. He was driven back, his already damaged left arm ripping clean off from the shoulder and flying across the arena. "ZHENG!" though the Emperor could hear his wife's desperate voice, calling out to him - He simply laughed merrily, seeing Alvitr's worried expression, looking down at him.

"It's beautiful...! What a beautiful star I see!" surprising everyone, the Emperor managed to use his sword to stand up once again. "A king never doubts. A King never yields. A King never relies." even with his arms ripped off like that, and the awful injuries sustained, Ying Zheng kept standing tall and ready to fight. "And a King never surrenders!" he was standing up through sheer willpower. "I can't let my wife see her husband dying, you know? I promised to only ever make her happy - So I can't cause her tears of distress now!"

He could hear them - The voices of the people. He's been fighting all this time to keep his promise to Y/N and Chun-Yan; To bring the people not hatred, but happiness. Everyone was cheering for him. The Greatest King of All Kings - Qin Shi Huang.

"Look, I know you don't wanna give up, but what are you gonna do exactly?" Alvitr asked, a little confused but ready to fight to the bitter end by the side of this worthy man. "I'm going to use Heavenly Hand of Defense once more." he spoke weakly, watching her distress and worry. "Trust me - I am THE Emperor!" Alvitr smiled, filled with hope and confidence thanks to this man. "You're just... Haha! No need to ask!" she, too, got in a fighting stance next to him, supporting him from within his soul. "HAO!" the Emperor exclaimed, thrusting the tip of his sword forward, to mit that of Hades' spear. "I consider myself proud to have been able to fight you." both the Gods and Mankind, and every eye upon the arena could sense that this very next clash would be the final one of Round Seven.

And the first to make a move was the King of the Netherworld, with a fearsome thrust from Desmos, loaded with all the Ichor that Hades could give; Against this gully-powered attack from the King of the Netherworld which seemed as though it could kill with a simple graze, the King of Men, without hesitation, caught it. Chi You Armor Form: Heavenly Hand of Defense.

Everyone had braced themselves for the end, save for the King Where It All Began... Who managed to use Tortoise Ripple to hit Desmos' Qi Star. It got weaker. Desmos was alive, not a lifeless weapon, and Hades hadn't taken that into consideration - He brought his spear to life, his most powerful advantage, but also, his most fatal disadvantage.

Ying Zheng had never forgotten, not even for an instant, that his own life began from the end - When the woman he loved most, his wife, along with his cherished mother-figure, Chun-Yan, showed him... That a King is one who arises from the end, and brings about the Beginning.

Desmos was shattering in his fighter's grasp, and the Human representative managed to impale his sword through the God's torso. "Magnificent!" Hades praised. "Nothing less...!" though he tried to use the broken handle of his weapon to kill Qin Shi Huang, he failed, for the Emperor sliced him open. "... from a King." Hades was unable to make good on his vow. He failed as an elder brother, but the Emperor managed to keep his oath to all the people that relied on him. "Forgive me."

As Hades lay dead on the ground, Heimdall announced Emperor Qin Shi Huang as the winner of the Seventh Round of Ragnarok, and with it, Mankind was in the lead, 4 to 3. "I am grateful that I could speak with you, King of the Netherworld." the Emperor clenched his fist to his chest, in honour of the admirable and honorable fight between two Kings. "Pengyou." through this battle to the death, the two Kings became friends.

Gods and Humans alike were showing their respects to the King of the Netherworld as he was shattering into glowing shard of green soul and ascending into the skies. In under 13 minutes, the King of all Kings defeated a God.

Just as before, the Emperors watching the match helped the Phoenix Empress descend into the ring so she could run to her husband, supporting him and the little Valkyrie lady up. "You were fantastic, you two. Now you may rest. I will take you to the infirmary at once." both of them, like a happy family, smiled at each other. "Don't push yourself too hard. You look even more banged up than me." Alvitr joked. "Mou mantai!" he chuckled at her reassuringly. "Mou mantai? You sure don't look it, silly man. Let me support you two." Y/N giggled, getting in between them two and holding onto them with all her force. "Honestly, it's a miracle you're even alive right now." Alvitr scolded him lightly. "That isn't true, Alvitr. Did I not say it before? Trust me!" his reassuring grin made the girl emotional. "You really are stupid." the Valkyrie's smile trembled. "H-Hey, can't you keep standing up?" Y/N released Alvitr from her grasp, supporting the Emperor as he lost consciousness. "Alvitr, if you have any strength in you, please help me hold him!"

The Valkyrie yelled for the paramedics to rush already - He needed urgent, intensive care. The nurses quickly brought the table and put the Emperor, rolling him quickly towards the Intensive Care unit where he will be taken until his condition is stabilised.

Ying Zheng and Alvitr also were kept in capsules to better their vital functions, and in between them, sat Y/N, smiling softly at the two. The Valkyrie was already a divine being, she was going to be alright... But Ying Zheng is still a human and was in a particularly critical condition - Whether he survives this or not, depends on his own strength to live.

"Ying Zheng and Alvitr. The Emperor of Heavens and his protector White Tiger." the Empress spoke gently, each hand laying on one of the glass capsules. "Alvitr, thank you for protecting my beloved Zheng. I will forever be indebted to you. My sweet child. Alvitr." Beautiful and divine, strong and courageous." her voice trembled softly. "My boyish young lady." her gaze turned to her Emperor. "Qin Shi Huang. The Emperor of China. The King Where It All Began. The First Unifier of China. The Golden Dragon of China. The Eye of Heaven." a few tears escaped softly down her cheeks. "Ying Zheng, my beloved husband, the beautiful boy with the starry skies in his eyes. The love of my life." her tender tears turned into heartbroken sobs. "I am so proud of you. So, so proud. You have always been a true leader for our people, and you were always such a wonderful husband, a partner, a friend. My confidant. My heart. My soul. My everything." though Goll and Brunhilde left, the Emperors whose paths were pathed by Qin Shi Huang were all standing outside the room, watching with heavy hearts, the shattered cry of the Vermillion Bird. "If the tears of the Phoenix could truly heal any wound, I would drown you in my cries and save you. If I could give my life to save you, I would transfer all of your wounds to mine own shell of a body, rip my flesh apart with mine own teeth and claws, and give you all of my blood, just to see you alive once more. My most precious sweetheart." the people watching all began to shed tears. "Just like the Goddess Luo who drowned herself in the river, so will I, out of grief, should you depart from this world before me." for one last time until her beloved would flutter his sparkling eyes open again, Y/N dried her tears and smiled brightly at Ying Zheng and Alvitr. "Hao! Mou mantai! Listen to my voice as I sing for you a beautiful melody. May you have sweet dreams and rest peacefully - And when your strength returns, please, return to me. And if not... The Vermillion Bird will burn to ashes, for the last time."

I want to be your love for ever and ever, Without break or decay. When the hills are all flat, The rivers are all dry. When it thunders in winter, When it snows in summer When heaven and earth mingle, Not till then will I part from you.

Thus, a melody was sung, through the cries of the weeping Vermillion bird, burning bright as the Sun, for her celestial Golden Dragon of Heavens, and the almighty White Tiger, shining silver like the moon.

#record of ragnarok imagine #record of ragnarok x reader #record of ragnarok #qin shi huang #qin shi huang x reader #qin shi huang imagine #ying zheng #ying zheng x reader #ying zheng imagine #ror #ror x reader #ror imagine #qin shi huang ror

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fictionandfixation · 3 months ago

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do u stardew dilf enjoyers want one night stand Shane x very sexually frustrated Harvey x reader love triangle fanfic or should it stay in the Google drive (it is VERY long also. like…really really long)? I was gonna add Elliott but thought that might get a bit convoluted so instead he’s just vibing it out and being a good and supportive himbo as he should.

Edit: it’s here!

Also all of the headcanons you guys enjoyed so much apply here very heavily INCLUDING yeehaw Deep South Shane! (I got messages for days asking for fix about yeehaw Shane so you guys better be coming back for this.)

Excerpt below the cut if you guys want a sample (will be edited later)! Warnings for this: slutty, no explicit sex though, implied free use if you squint, power dynamics, pining (duh), alcohol mention, smoking mention, jealous Harvey, referenced semi-public sex, AGE GAP, I literally just love dilfs idgaf, pining obvs

MDNI as per. Rating for this fic is basically explicit from the get-go yall.

Excerpt:

Harvey had been almost silent ever since, but you could see him bristling every time you shared a beer and a cigarette with Shane or braided Elliott’s hair, every time Sebastian gave you a socially awkward sideways hug. Every time you headed out to gossip hand in hand with Haley or borrowed Emily’s clothes you could feel the stare boring into you. You’d made a habit of prodding at what was clearly a jealous streak just to see what would happen, dressing up, putting on a little outfit you thought he’d like; this evening, a long sleeved black cotton top, hugging and well fitting, short heels. Only recently had he plucked up the courage to speak to you properly again. He hadn’t mentioned what had happened at the beach, but he was (almost) up to his old self.

The experience in the cave was grinding at your head every moment of the day. I want to ruin you. What had he meant by that? Whatever it was, you wanted him to do it, but you were utterly convinced he hated you now - at least to some degree - over your friendship with the town’s other bachelors. He was a no-nonsense kind of man, mature, professional and to-the-point, and you felt so deeply guilty for teasing him like that, for not giving him space. You could have moved away. You could have respected him. You were just too naïve to know when someone wanted leaving alone. But, god, how bad you needed him.

It had been months since the beach and all you’d felt were pangs of shame and desire whenever he met your eyes over his glass of wine whilst you were trying to distract yourself with a drink with Elliott or Shane or Maru, whenever he brushed your shoulder in Pierre’s. It was torture trying to keep away, trying to pretend you didn’t have the most criminal crush on him, that you didn’t want him to march you into his supply cupboard in the medical centre during your check-up and press you into the wall and cover your mouth to keep you quiet and just do whatever he wanted with you. No one had ever reacted to you like that, begging, pleading, threatening, as though you were sin itself. No one had ever made you feel like that in so short a moment, like you were theirs, like they could commit atrocities against you which would make the devil blush and you wouldn’t bat an eye. No one had ever made you want them so badly you would have risked being seen getting railed from behind in a fucking cave by two of your closest friends.

*****

Ok that’s it for now. Just a little lick of plot in there - let me know what you think. Ofc the silco fic is still firmly and unshakeably on the table, I just LOVE dilfs and the sdv Older Bachelors hit sooo diff for some reason. Got a whole lot of this fic cooked up already too!

#stardew bachelors #stardew valley imagine #stardew harvey #stardew #stardew valley #stardew shane #sdv older bachelors #sdv harvey #sdv shane #sdv #sdv fanfic #fanfiction #stardew fanfiction #older bachelors

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animeyanderelover · 8 months ago

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Hi, could I request Itachi, Dabi and Narancia with a female s/o that is extremely insecure over her big nose? Thank you!

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, clinginess, threats, isolation, female reader

Tags: @shumidehiro @swagenemyartisan @cachamata @simplydlightfuldestiny @flaming-vulpix

S/o is insecure over her big nose

Uchiha Itachi

🍡You're far too harsh on yourself. It just makes Itachi sad when he sees how you constantly attempt to cover up your lower face by wearing masks but he doesn't force you to put them away, especially if you have had bad experiences in the past where bullies ripped covers away from you to make fun of your nose. After all he doesn't want you to be uncomfortable around him. He hates it even more when you talk low about yourself and bring up the argument that he wouldn't understand you because he is so handsome. So what if he is handsome according to you? Have you ever committed atrocities like he has? Is he a good person because he looks beautiful? He's the one supposed to feel terrible for kidnapping a good and beautiful person like you out of his own selfish desires. He keeps his frustration away from you though, remains patient. If he needs to dedicate hours of his day to discuss with you all the reasons why he loves you than he is fully committed to do it for you. If you do not believe him he is very much set on proving you wrong, he has stalked and observed you so intently that he is able to retell every habit and every moment that has made him fall in love with you even more.

Todoroki Touya

🔹Seriously? You think that you are ugly due to your nose? Shit, if you're ugly he must be a hideous abomination. Touya could almost consider it insulting that you have the nerve to talk shit about yourself whilst he is literally a burnt corpse walking. As soon as you start talking lowly about yourself he is absolutely joining you by talking self-deprecating about how awful he looks as well. Funnily enough you don't like when he talks about himself that way and he is always quick to return your complaints by retorting that he doesn't like listening to you either whenever you refer to yourself so negatively. If you can talk shit about yourself he is free to do so as well. Fuck, he has even more reasons to do it about himself considering that half of his body is barely held together flesh at this point. Such arguments usually always make you shut up pretty fast as if realising that he has it even worse than you. By all means, don't feel guilty when such thoughts cross your mind. As long as it serves its effect in stopping you from feeling as insecure about yourself as you normally tend to do Touya is quite content. You know, he and a lot of other people would have given a lot to look as normal as you do.

Narancia Ghirga

🍊If you're feeling insecure about your big nose Narancia probably only heightens your anxiety but the poor boy is much too dense to notice that the constant attention he gives your nose makes you feel only worse. It's one of the first things that he pointed out when meeting you because it just stood out to him but he actually thinks that it's quite cute. He never realises that it's this constant attention on the part of your body you feel insecure about that makes you often uncomfortable around him, not until either someone from his gang or you yourself tell it to him very directly. Afterwards it does end up being worse though because now he feels like he has to constantly prove to you that you're beautiful. He constantly kisses your nose and when he introduces you to someone he always points out that you have a pretty nose and demands the other person to agree with him. Covering your face will absolutely not happen or else he might end up crying because he feels so upset that he is unable to make you feel beautiful about yourself. If you have any bullies he will turn into an absolut menace and terrorise them until they never show their face around you again.

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sonik-kun · 9 months ago

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Let's remind eachother why Jiang Cheng resorted to leading the seige, shall we?

If you recall, WWX inadvertently killed JZX after he lost control of WN. JZX being JC's brother in law .. The heir to the powerful Jin sect but most importantly, his sister's husband whom she loved dearly.

EVEN THEN JC DIDN'T OUTRIGHT DECLARE A SIEGE!

We see he's reluctant, torn, but still holds some hope for WWX. This can be seen in the line thereafter where WWX loses control once again and JC cries "I thought you could control it!"

Both JC and JYL in that moment couldn't truly bring themselves to go after WWX and hold him accountable. But we can also see that they are torn. That they are unsure how to feel about WWX and the dangerous person he has now become. We see this when JYL is dying and she can't bring herself to express what she may or may not be feeling in that moment.

But love and loyalty aside, let's look at what would happen if JC didn't take part in the siege.

If JC didn't take part he would either look complicit in JZX's death or he would look like a weak coward who rolls over for his former second in command. Not only that, he would be expected to pursue justice on behalf of his sister. How would it look if he didn't raise a finger to kill or apprehend his sister and her husband's "killer?"

We don't even know if he wanted to kill WWX in that siege or apprehend him. Giving his literal job and the politics of that world, he wouldn't be wrong to do either. JC's job is to keep his people safe. And if WWX has become a threat, a threat that killed two of his family members, then I'm afraid to say it is his duty to stop him.

I would also argue in defence of his mental state at the time of his siege. JC literally lost his only remaining family left, his sister leaving behind an orphaned nephew. He's also not being fed the information we as the reader receive.

From his pov WWX had not only betrayed him to side with the sect that had nearly decimated his own, but it also looked like he had walked down the dark path and had become corrupted by his DC. His corruption had led to the death of people who he loved. In JC's eyes, WWX had betrayed him first.

Now before anyone starts, I am in no way condoning the massacre of the Wen remnants. But I would like to argue that we don't even know JC's full role in the siege other than that he lead it.

His goal was to get to WWX. If he wanted the Wen dead, he would have sided with the rest of the cultivation world in the beginning instead of defending WWX's actions and being mocked and demeaned for it. He was willing to embarrass himself and receive criticism from the other sect leader's for WWX! That to me suggests his love and loyalty for his brother.

For all we know, JC's party could have went after WWX and his fierce corpse army. Whilst the Jin took advantage and took care of the Wen. WWX never blames JC for the death of the Wen nor does he seek justice or revenge. Instead he puts the blame on the Jin when the truth of their conniving comes out. So.. if you think JC should be held accountable for the Wen, WWX himself doesn't even entertain that idea. 🤷

So no, actually. The siege does not nullify Jiang Cheng's sacrifice. JC made that sacrifice out of love for his brother without a second thought. JC only turned against WWX at the very last minute when he inadvertently got his beloved sister killed. He could have picked the easy way out and sided with the three powerful sects to take down WWX and the Wen a long time ago but he didn't. Because he loved WWX. He respected him. And he was only pushed to commit the atrocities he commited because of WWX. JC is not inherently evil.

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zionistgirlie · 4 months ago

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you can call people who dislike you anti-semetic all you’d like, it doesn’t make it true. people could just dislike you because your personality is garbage? have you considered that? zionism is the ideology that perpetuates a genocide, you are furthering an agenda that bombs innocent children, at minimum. “never again” unless you’re the ones committing the atrocities, right? it’s cool now because it’s not happening to you? grow up

if the roles were reversed and palestinians had you in an open air prison you’d be the first to scream that it’s a genocide, but you’re not. how quickly you forget.

oh, also, jewish does NOT equal zionist. they are not synonyms. there are jews out there who have a heart and some basic human decency, btw.

Appreciate you took the time to write this detailed, yet ignorant, rant. Would that you'd spend as much time looking for a job...

Fact check:

Gaza isn't and wasn't an open air prison. Even Gazans admit that. Also, you're aware they have a border with Egypt, too, right? A border closed by a wall the Egyptians build to keep Gazans out. Egypt wouldn't take sick kids to its hospitals, grown men to work or random kids to the beach. The Jews did all those. Yet— "GaZA is aN oPEN aiR prISOn" and it's the Jews' fault. This double standard is a bit antisemitic if you ask me. And we WERE in open air prisons, thank you very much, they're called concentration camp. Don't know if you've ever heard of those. (Also our brothers and sisters are currently held in Gaza in closed-air tunnel captivity and your reluctance to mention them is very telling)

Zionism is an ideology calling for the Jews to have a land in their ancestral homeland. There is no genocide in Gaza and even the antisemitic UN admits that. Gaza's population actually grew during the war*, so that's a very bad genocide if that indeed was our goal. The combatants to civilians ratio was 1:1, which is about the lowest in modern history (it was 1 combatant on each 10 civilians in Mosul, Afghanistan, just for comparison), keeping in mind that Gaza is a dense, urban area, and the IDF are either crazy precise or really bad at genociding. Yes, civilians die at war, collateral damage is always heartbreaking, but maybe less kids would die if Hamas stopped hiding behind them in mosques, hospitals, schools and children's bedroom. Whilst Israel does the best of its ability not to harm civilians, every "Palestinian resistance" movement made it their goal to hurt as many civilians and children. If I believe a genocidal ideology, what does it say about you? Remember the seventh of October? Would you condemn Hamas for it? Only a couple days ago we learned the Kfir, Ariel and Shiri Bibas, the two youngest hostages, aged 9 months old and 4 when they were kidnapped, and their mum, were murdered in captivity. Are you okay with kidnapping two babies and killing them in captivity?

90% of Jews support Zionism, and that number sky-rocketed since the seventh of October. When you call 90% of all Jews heartless and claim they have no human dignity, that's a little tidbit antisemitic. Would you be okay if I said 99% of Gazans support Hamas or other Jihadist groups, hence they're heartless and have no human dignity? Didn't think so. Maybe you should unlearn that double standard and antisemitism you defend so fiercely, and maybe speak with some actual Jews.

"Maybe people hate you because your personality is garbage" well first of all, it's not "people" but two bored antisemitics constantly sending asks (why u so obsessed with me), and second, how much do you know about my personality? The only things you know are that I'm a religious Israeli Jew who's a raging zionist. Hating me for that is a tad antisemitic. But sure.

"Grow up" babe I'm not the one constantly harassing people anonymously whilst they're trying to study for their college exams...

🥱🥱🥱🥱 2/10. Highly recommend getting a job.

*they admit it themselves:

#israel #jewish #jewblr #antisemitism #hamas is isis #bring them home now #fuck hamas #leftist antisemitism #hostages #tw antisemtism

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drbased · 2 months ago

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Deconstructing Conservative Rhetoric About 'Art'

So. I occasionally stumble upon the 'obviously fascist' side of tumblr, and today I discovered one of these blogs talking about what makes 'true art'. I've dissected TRA talking points before and so I shall do this one. It's a really long post, so I'm only providing screenshots of the parts that are relevant:

The first thing that struck me about these paragraphs is their similarity towards feminist analysis - specifically, what I have read in Dworkin's Pornography and Griffin's Pornography and Silence. OOP references the difference between the pornographic and the erotic. Whilst feminists would agree that pornography is dehumanising where eroticism is natural, healthy desire, that is where the similarity ends. Throughout these paragraphs you'll see how the patriarchy constructs these unspoken ideologies which feminism recognises and dissects.

A perfect example of this phenomenon is how eroticism and lust are rendered entirely separate categories. Eroticism is 'natural, healthy' sexual desire, and a 'fundamental part of the human condition'. Lust, despite also being something humans are capable of having, is separated into its own separate category, thus implying that it's not a fundamental part of the human condition. For all the right is obsessed with the left inventing language to 'redefine reality', the above is a perfect example of a patriarchal construction that has no definition outside of its own circular logic. The idea here is that there is 'good sexual appetite' and 'bad sexual appetite' and that these are conditions that are so distinct that they warrant categorisation. The complexity of the human condition and the various psychological factors that result in rape and sexual violence can be neatly isolated and packaged up as a result of the pseudo-spiritual evil force of 'lust'. Under right-wing thought, everything is categorised and simplified, so we never have to examine the construction of our world as a result of human thought processes and values and so hierarchies are preserved.

Additionally, there is demonstrated here another aspect to symbolic thought that I have discussed elsewhere: the implicit rejection of causality. The dehumanisation, rape and sexual violence caused by lust is used as proof of its inherent evil, rather than the other way around. So, then, an individualist narrative is formed of lust being the 'inner demon' that men are in struggle against: sexual violence is reframed not as something that men do to women to gain and sustain power, but instead a pseudo- - or actual - spiritual force that is inherently evil, and so women become props in men's inner struggle.

This narrativising of causality and morality as something inherent and 'above reality' allows for ad-hoc justification of anything that benefits the person. And this narrativising is present in another aspect of these paragraphs: note that pornography, and the sexual violence associated with it, is scapegoated as a 'modern' phenomenon. Once again, said sexual violence is implied to be 'proof' of the inherent corrupting (note the usage of 'perverting': a dog-whistle-esque term alluding to the corruption of the natural order) and evil force of pornography-fuelled lust, rather than an atrocity in its own right.

This is a dogwhistle towards liberal values: men, who have dehumanised, controlled, raped and impregnated women without the modern conceptions of 'pornography' for longer than written human history, imply that said rape and objectification is a product of deviant male sexuality caused by some pseudo-spiritual societal sickness - one that has nothing to do with patriarchy. Conservative men rightly recognise the evils of rape and dehumanisation in theory, but in practice they implicitly understand them to be the bedrock of male power. So it is within their best interests to deflect; to tell themselves and women that yes, men commit evil deeds, but if we religiously stick to our agreed-upon roles and hierarchies, we can at least mitigate the damage caused by men, or at least we can be psychologically comforted by believing that if we do things 'right' then we are safe. So, then, the patriarchy constructs a model of male sexual violence as something inherently aberrant and associated with the 'other': thus other violences can be justified, and atrocities within the 'in-group' can be downplayed. Whenever a man commits a heinous act we can be collectively reassured that he's 'not a real man'.

Meanwhile, the other major implicit assumption here is that within every man (and possibly every woman, although as you may notice as I share further screenshots, he never really addresses how women process the world), there lies this fundamental desire to dehumanise that is associated with sexual desire. As we've seen, he attempts to distinguish between 'good' sexual desire vs 'bad' sexual desire, and his use of 'Christendom' indicates the ideological position he holds. And once again, we see this same rejection of causality: 'good' sexual desire naturally exists within the context of 'the sacrament of marriage'. The implicit assumption here is that marriage is some inherent good, which results in the sexual desire within it being inherently good. This is of course something feminists reject outright.

And now, onto the meat of what I wanted to talk about:

So. If you thought I was stretching when I called those other things dogwhistles, then perhaps this will convince you. I'm going to take apart line by line why this is completely bullshit:

'Here the body is perfectly at rest': what does rest have to do with the erotic? Isn't a dead body also 'at rest'? I am as inherently alive as an erotic being when I'm doing the fucking grocery shopping as when I'm lounging in my pants at home. I'm being facetious, of course - the significance of this, that I will expand on later, is clearly in the desire to see femaleness as the natural opposite of maleness. Maleness is active where femaleness is passive. Men see femaleness as a pseudo-child-like state, whereby men make sacrifices to provide women with luxuries. And so, the healthy and natural state of things is demonstrated by the woman being portrayed as at rest: she is inactive, but she is content with that.

'The Venus could be clothed from head to toe, and her natural posture need not change in the slightest': This betrays the patriarchal belief about sexual desire: that men are inherently desiring and women desired, and that the female body inherently invites male lust, and therefore sexual violence. It is important that she looks as if she could be clothed, because that means she's simply naturally nude, and not posing sexually. Of course, there are deeply sinister undertones to all this: it is important she is both at rest and also could be clothed, which in short means it's important that she displays no outward signs of sexual desire. For all the waxing lyrical about her not being objectified, it is paradoxically important that she plays the role of a sexless being, being desired by the active male.

'The viewer is drawn automatically to her face, which veils her nude body from perversity': and here it couldn't be any more obvious that the female body is believed to contain some natural perversity which drives men to commit evil deeds. Men have to be reminded that women have human faces in order to remember that they're human and therefore don't deserve to be raped.

'You cannot objectify this woman, her flesh is off-limits to base appetites': This woman is literally a painting. She is literally an object. She is depicted nude for, as he wilfully admits, the 'male gaze'. Whilst in his mind, this painting demarcates a clear boundary between pornography and erotic art, a feminist would question this construction. This man is desperately attempting to justify looking at a naked woman as if it tells him something about the nature of humanity and eroticism through art. But for all his posturing about how art enriches us, all he's done is betray the same patriarchal beliefs that were likely also used to justify the painting's creation.

Also, I'd like to point out a few other aspects of this painting that to me, as a living human woman with 'flesh and spirit and entwined', read to me as distinctly un-erotic (i.e. displaying the exact kind of misogynistic dehumanisation you would expect from a patriarchal pornographic mindset):

As I've already stated, the fact that she's just lounging and showing no active interest in anything, let alone sex.

How pale and smooth she is. She looks like a fucking porcelain doll. There's no sense of her having interacted with the physical world.

The lighting in this piece is really odd - despite the huge black mass behind her that would surely place her in shadow, she looks as if she's under a bright spotlight. There's no real sense of shadow on her. She's entirely isolated from the environment around her - divorced from material reality, divorced from causality, as if to emphasise that she is there to be on display for the viewer.

The lack of body hair. She's a full-grown adult, and adulthood is where we develop our spirit of eroticism. For all the allusions to deviant male sexuality, if you didn't know any better you might be mistaken in thinking that healthy male sexuality that would require an erotic attraction to adult women with pubic hair. But pubic hair has been suspiciously absent in 'art' of naked women long before what we now call 'pornography' has become mainstream in the 'modern world'.

There are people in the background. Including what looks like a child. I notice he doesn't mention this at all. Especially since by his own admission, what makes eroticism so powerful and healthy is that it's of 'two becoming one' - but the privacy and intimacy of eroticism is surely lost when other people are depicted nearby. But I almost wonder if the existence of the other people actually bolsters the eroticism for him in a sense. Because if there are other people around, then she is further restricted from displaying sexual desire, and the presumed male in this scenario is also restricted from initiating sex: eroticism is thus separated from 'lust' by reminding the man that he can't fuck her at will. Of course, you'd think the fact that she's a human being who might not want sex would be enough to turn him off, but instead he requires external signifiers to remind him not to rape. This could indicate to us that her perceives eroticism less as an active force and more a lack of dehumanising lust. The existence of other people I think adds another aspect to this: broadly, conservatives believe that women should be private property, and liberals believe that women should be public property. But conservatives are also perfectly happy to bend rules to their will, as their entire ideological construction merely exists to preserve power. So if it benefits them to present the supposed sacred and vulnerable female body as something that's actually for public consumption, they will happily do that. The longer I consider the existence of other people engaging in their active lives in the background of this supposedly 'erotic' painting, the more I see this painting as some sort of intrinsic 'threat' to women: your body is naturally erotic, and no matter where you are or whatever situation you're in, if a man sees your naked form he views you as an object of his lust.

So I don't need to say as much about this second image, as it's mostly the same rhetoric. I will concede that he does address that she is a woman who actually does things. Curiously he says that her features are 'hardened' - hardened as opposed to what? As opposed to the other painting, where the woman looks like she's had the smoothing tool vigorously applied to her whole body? This women is still obscenely pale, with no areolas, no body/pubic hair, and nothing even resembling wrinkles. Her face looks less yassified and her stomach has marginally more definition than the other one, but to call her 'hardened' is patently absurd. This man is once again proving that for all these bodies are 'unashamed', he believes what makes a woman erotic is her being pure, untouched, inactive and - ahem - child-like.

'She too is off-limits': The overall impression we can get from these passages is that a woman has to display the most cartoonishly obvious humanity in order for a man to not view her as an object of lust (an allusion to a desire to rape her). For him, eroticism comes not from mutual desire, and instead from the thrill of crossing a boundary. The idea is that she has walls up, and there is excitement in conquering him. I've said before how men conceptualise rape and sex as functionally synonymous, and that 'consent' is merely the point at which she submits to his will: that ideologically is laid stunningly clear here; whilst this man clearly condemns rape, he processes eroticism through the same lens as rapists do - he, too, is sexually excited by the idea of her lack of consent. He, like all men, establishes a boundary at which point said excitement is morally bad - but every man who crosses a woman's boundary has the same justification.

'Theirs is not a nudity of advertising or intentional display, but instead of total leisure': he attempts to allude to the objectification of women in pornography whilst bypassing pornography's function in displaying women for male gratification. And that's what conservatives do - create arbitrary classifications for the purpose of creating some 'other' where deviancy lies. The argument of eroticism vs lust is a smokescreen so he can avoid addressing the real ideological position of pornography. After all, it's funny that he admits that these women aren't intentionally displaying themselves, when pornography where women are accidentally exposed is widespread. The idea that she is just lounging perpetuates his belief in the psuedo-spiritual inherent eroticism of the 'female form' (a helpful belief system to have when you want to construct a society where men can own and forcibly impregnate women), and it also fulfils the narrative of the erotic force of her lack of consent. We're supposed to believe that her lounging for a photo is somehow less fake than pornography - which it categorically is not, and I can't believe I had to say that. She's still posing, it's still fake, the only difference is she's expected not to show sexual desire. So if anything, you might even argue that (ideologically, at least) this is actually a bit worse than pornography that depicts a woman desiring sex and enjoying herself.

THERE'S A FUCKING BLACK SLAVE? SERVANT IN THE PICTURE. Where's her humanity, where's her eroticism? A white, extraordinarily pale naked lady gets to lounge, and its erotic that she 'could be clothed' but the black woman in mid-motion fully dressed isn't erotic? I think it's absolutely telling that in both these 'erotic' images there are whole other people in the picture. I can't say confidently that he chose these specifically because of the other people, but the fact that he's not turned off by them, the fact that he doesn't even mention their presence, speaks volumes. He's trying to construct a view of healthy eroticism that's supposedly about the connection between two real living beings and he chooses images of women showing no desire, doing nothing, next to other real human beings who aren't addressed at all. Mind you, given his political views I don't imagine he even recognises the black woman's humanity.

So these are two images that are supposedly erotic art. You wanna see what they're contrasted against?

'an unnatural and inexplicable pose that she would never hold if she was fully clothed': I will cede that women are placed in unnatural poses for the purposes of dehumanisation for male gratification. And there is definitely an element of that here - it's plain to see that the pose was chosen less because of its dynamism and more because of it showing off her bum. And the legs apart has some allusions to sexual positions - many women hump pillows in positions like this. But its allusions to more explicit things don't make it somehow less exploitative than the other images - she's equally as nude, equally the center of attention, equally on display. In fact, you could argue that she's actually less explicit here because all her bits are covered - no areola-less nipples are on display, and you could at least imagine that she has a bush.

It's funny to me that once again he prizes the idea of purity in a naked through how well he can imagine the woman being clothed. It's frankly just silly that he's trying to claim that this pose has anything to do with clothes - it's transparent grasping at straws to attempt to cover up his real desire to see women with boundaries that he could theoretically transgress. He wants to see nude women, but the desire to see nude women doesn't square with his conservative sensibilities, so he makes up this fiction that as long as she 'could be' clothed, she still has those boundaries, so she's still a viable candidate for possession by him. And to further illustrate that she has boundaries, she has to not show an indication that she wants sex, and that includes being a living, breathing, active human being: so, she must be still. She cannot resemble a clothed woman whilst naked, because without clothes the line between 'madonna' and 'whore' is blurred - so he has to find other signifiers that she is still the chaste, unsullied woman whose boundaries he desires to transgress.

'The face is another red flag, as it has no feature to play in the body's composition, and we have no reason to be drawn towards it': once again we have a clear admission that this man has such a shaky grasp of women's inherent humanity that he thinks not being able to see the face full-on means she ceases to be a subject and so becomes an object of lust. Don't get me wrong, there is real criticism to be made here: if she's looking 'off-screen', then this image is voyeuristic; at least in the other paintings there is some allusion to the existence of consent. But in this context, the woman is in a pose that, despite what he wants to claim, is clearly not designed to display herself sexually to the viewer. There's a real irony in that, actually - in the other paintings, the woman is directly looking at the viewer whilst fully naked, clearly implying that she is posing: literally on display. And yet in this context the woman is not posing elegantly and is looking off-screen, alluding to a much more natural context. It's clear his definition of 'on display' is, once again, divorced from reality - the inherent sexual nature of her body is such that moving whilst naked is enough to categorise her as 'on display'.

'Whether she is intentionally avoiding our gaze or is simply unaware of it, her subjectivity is compromised': Interesting how a woman's subjectivity is defined by her relationship to a man looking at her. You could argue that we're talking only about the context of a painting here, but it's clear from his rhetoric that he holds a much deeper ideological position that he is merely employing in his analysis of the painting: it is highly likely that he, implicitly or otherwise, views women's subjectivity in such a way.

'and we are free to engage in more lecherous mental activity': you couldn't make it any clearer: sex is something men get from women, and it's women's responsibility to remind men of their humanity so they can avoid men committing atrocities against them. Make no mistake, when he refers to 'lecherous', he is not thinking of this in moral terms - if this was about morality, then he'd have made the kind of analysis that I'm doing. He processes the world through this patriarchal ideological lens, which he exposes in the next sentence:

'This is not the body unashamed, like the Venus or Olympia. Instead, it is the body shameless.' Under the conservative viewpoint, there is the madonna and the whore: the woman whose body is capable of being shamed and yet stays pure, and the woman who has embraced her true nature of the shameless whore. The only distinction between this viewpoint and that of the pornography he denigrates is that pornography does away with the categories and claims that every woman is, deep down, the shameless whore. Both viewpoints come from the same ideological underpinning: that there is something pseudo-spiritually shameful about the female body, and that we are capable of being corrupted by sex. It's a useful viewpoint to have when you want to preserve your power through rape and want to outsource responsibility for your own actions and assuage your guilt.

'Her nudity, while beautiful, is dangerous and borders on advertisement': You couldn't make it any more clear that he does not view rape as an immoral act committed by a conscious actor on a victim. To him, her nudity is dangerous - not the beliefs or actions of the rapist. And despite his claims that our modern liberal society has commodified everything as a product (which, to be fair, it has):

it's evident that he views a woman's body as inherently a product. We can understand that he doesn't actually hate the concept of a product - but, like all conservatives, he wants it categorised. A woman's body could be advertised, but it shouldn't. Despite how much he wants to think of himself as different from those liberals wo view everything as a product, he defaults to referring to a woman being naked as 'borders on advertisement' - he, too, believes that anything, even the supposed sanctity of human eroticism, can be potentially a product.

To him, and by extension all men, the sanctity of human eroticism is vulnerable to all sorts of pseudo-spiritual and symbolic corruption - and that vulnerability is what makes it erotic. The fact that she has boundaries that can be sullied makes said boundaries vulnerable, which generates a high of eroticism. This, as with all symbolic conceptions, is a replacement for the true vulnerability of human eroticism: his eroticism as a living, breathing human being. The 'dangerous' naked woman whose body 'borders on advertisement' is entirely safe because she's just a painting, and so he's safe from having to engage with the reality that a real human woman can hurt him, can reject him. His entire self-conceptualisation as a man is structured about him being the untouchable centre of the universe - he is the presumed audience of the painting, his experience of sexual desire is not just universal but eroticism itself, and so a woman's naked body is advertisement to him. His discomfort and guilt around his desire to commit violence - that only exists because of how he is conditioned to dehumanise women - is outsourced and thus also becomes safe. All the things he likes about himself are good and healthy and natural. All the things he dislikes become narrativised into a psuedo- - or perhaps literal - spiritual and symbolic battle so he can feel that he has control over the universe. Her 'consent' is taken from her, as is her lack of consent, and instead reframed as part of his narrative - his internal struggle with the demons inside him.

When I first read this post, I surprised myself with being intrigued by his attempt to define art. I'd not really seen it done before, so even though I knew I would hate this guy I still decided to read out of sheer curiosity. Besides, it's healthy to know what your ideological position thinks and how they process the world - the youtube series 'The Alt Right Playbook' has given me great insight into the conservative worldview, which is why I recommend it at every turn. And after having read this guy's take on art can't help but think that for all the posturing about how art is enriching and gives you a window into the human experience, as opposed to 'modern art', kitsch etc which are purely products designed, to, well...

Like, this guy spent so much time trying to justify images that are clearly designed to be props that he finds satisfying to look at...

A lot of this argument isn't even terrible - I think there's an interesting discussion to be had about where the line is between art and commodification. But the conservative dogwhistling is so loud that every dog within several miles is howling - like, what's the point, here? What is the material harm caused by the commodification of art? Is this about human exploitation, about conditioning society to consume more and expect less, about training us to be less discerning so we're less susceptible to propaganda? No, it's vague allusions to taste as some psuedo-spiritual good, some inherent 'truth' that exists outside of material reality. This is the conservative viewpoint at its most transparent. He even concludes with 'then one must recognize that, like human beings themselves, not all art (and certainly not all product) is created equal' - as if he was literally tasked with the job to illustrate the right-wing mind so perfectly.

#my writing #theory posting #symbolic states #wowwwww so I checked the wordcount and this is over 4k words #was going to add a quote from pornography and silence but I've spent at least 2 hours writing this at this point

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beeliiii · 1 month ago

Text

Name Upon Thy Flesh

Luke Skywalker x Reader

Summary: Rescuing Han turns out a little different.

Warnings: Slavery, descriptions of surgery

A/N: I wrote this yesterday, didn’t check for mistakes because quite frankly I don’t have time to write and check for things. There’s some inconsistences, I’m aware of that. But also I’m just a tad too lazy to try and rework those things into where they need to be, I don’t think it matters too much. I highly doubt this is going to get a lot of attention anyways so who really cares??? Also!! I wrote this with Amavikka culture, Im not fully aware of all the nuances but I took inspo from Jackdaw_Kraai and their take on it. However, I’m expanding on the pantheon of deities so just bear with me whilst I figure it out. Pls and thank you. I also never claim the writing to be good, not your style? Don’t read it. I do not need to be told you didn’t like the story.

WC: 12,135. Incomplete

The planning room is a rather droll space, in Luke’s humble opinion. He isn’t a master of interior design by any means, but between the durasteel colored everything and the uncomfortable, deceptively padded swivel chairs, he thinks he might have a chance. Leia is at the front of the room, she’s got a board full of ideas and key points, Chewie sits across the table from Luke, his eyes trained on the board. They’re going to get Han. It was inevitable, and it’s been a long time coming.

There’s two resolute factors in the plan; They’re going to Tatooine, and they’re going to infiltrate Jabba’s palace. Luke hates thinking about that damned palace. Rounded and tall, it blends well with the desert, belonging, he would say. The desert is cruel, and so is Jabba’s palace. Everyone knows that slaves go there and never return. For Jabba never traded slaves when he wished to acquire a new one, he simply just killed the previous one when the replacement arrived.

Slave life at Jabba’s palace, from what Luke had seen and heard, was truly horrendous. Before the rebellion, before the lightsabers and the family drama that tore the galaxy apart, Luke had been a runner. A dangerous job, but one he was well suited for. Every other week there’d be a job, a bag of credits and a list of names. Then the following week it’d be quick terror, decisive victories, emergency surgeries and bated breath to see if it would be a success. Luke, as a runner, as the first freeborn of his family, knew intimately what slavery on Tatooine was like. Even though he had never experienced slavery, and hopefully never would, what he saw during his work was enough to understand the true atrocities committed against innocent people.

Sneaking into Jabba’s palace was the easy part, it was the getting out that would be difficult. They were lucky that Luke had knowledge of the palace, of Tatooine, and how everything would work. It was lucky, indeed, that Luke was there to help run this particular flight.

“There’s someone I know who will help us.”

That brought a flurry of emotions to the surface for him. You. You were on Tatooine, left behind in his haste for revenge. Luke had bid his time, waiting until it was right to come find you again. Whisk you off the godforsaken planet and to the rebellion. You’d be better off with them, or simply away from Tatooine. There were many occasions where you had run a flight together. Often working as a team to help the slaves escape. You were good with the surgeries and healing, a gift from your patrons.

The time was right, Luke could feel it, he could finally have you with him. Could slip a ring around your finger and mark your face with his blood, pledge his love and loyalty to you in the names of the desert and the storm. Luke had waited, and now it was time.

Leia raised a brow at him, “Who?”

Luke let himself grin a little wider, “A girl who also knows Jabba’s palace well. She’s an excellent medic.”

“A medic?”

“Yeah, she’s the best out of us all. I’d trust her to slice me open with a kitchen knife if that’s what was available.”

Leia looked skeptical, but she didn’t say no either.

“She’ll be able to help us get Han?”

“Absolutely. She’s always willing to help.”

“Would she help the rebellion?”

“In a heartbeat.”

Leia seemed satisfied about that, nodding as she turned to write in another factor on the board: Luke’s mystery medic. Luke could see it now, the door opening, your face, pissy because he had left. He’d get on his knees, beg forgiveness and he really hoped you would forgive him because he wanted everything to do with you. He knew it, deep within himself, that he could not leave without you again.

“Where do we locate her?”

“She and her family live up in Mos Eisley, it’s not terribly out of the way, maybe an hour detour at most.”

“That’s doable then, besides, a good medic will certainly be a valuable asset.”

“Agreed.”

Luke didn’t tell them about his true connection with you, he feared that if he did it’d be dismissed because of his feelings. He wasn’t lying about your medical skills though, only the best of the medical droids could do it like you did, and even then it seemed like your hands were guided by divine energy to heal. Your patron's gift, that’s what you told him long, long ago.

He knew about patrons' gifts as well, for he had them too. Desert and storm, they went hand in hand, and Luke was their chosen champion. At least that’s what everyone seemed to say, you included. You were a champion yourself, champion of the three moons, you covered three different sectors. The spirit, the healing, the oasis. Your three domains. There were other champions out there, but who Luke didn’t know. Someday he would, for someday they’d all be called together.

Part of him feared that you had moved on without him though. That you had decided to continue on without him, maybe you’d fallen in love with somebody else. It would break his heart if that happened, but he’d also understand. You had been left behind and there was no guarantee that Luke would come back, the only thing you did have was your faith in him. He hoped he still had that faith.

By the end of the day they had their plan sorted out. It was risky, but it never wasn’t going to be risky. It relied a lot on luck, assumptions, and counting on the low intelligence level Jabba’s palace seemed to gather. Luke hoped that this would be a successful run, hoped that the plan would work because if it were up to him he’d go alone or with you. He wouldn’t take Leia, or Chewie, just him and his tool kit. Of course he couldn’t exactly say that to Leia and Chewie though.

They’d insisted on coming, and they’d insisted on making the plan too. Luke knew that no matter how much experience he had with freeing people from Jabba directly that the pair wouldn’t listen. That in itself was frustrating, knowing that they didn’t think he was good enough to make a plan like theirs, and knowing that his opinion would be discarded.

He had tried multiple times throughout the entire planning session to try and give input, but they always had something to say about it. No matter that Luke had nearly routinely snuck into the palace, they wanted to do things their way. The outsider way. Luke wished that they’d listen to him, the actual Tatooinian native, rather than apply the familiarities they had to something they were wholly unfamiliar with. Leia and Chewie, in their stubbornness to rescue Han, would not listen to reason beyond themselves.

Luke could only see that they survived, even if the plan was so stupid a slave child would see right through it and circle the problems in blood so bright it couldn’t be avoided. It would be good to have you by his side, knowing you could (probably) fix them up whenever things (undoubtedly would) go wrong. He just wanted your presence mingling in his again.

They would leave in two days.

*****

Two days passed swiftly, and before Luke knew it they were boarding the falcon to head over to Tatooine. He had packed his desert clothes, and anything else they needed would be found on the planet itself. It had been four years since he last stepped foot on the planet, four years since he lost his family, his home. Four years since he joined the rebellion and blew up the death star. It was a little crazy to Luke how much could change in just a handful of years.

He had missed it in a way. He supposed that after nineteen years of living on the planet, raised there his whole life, intimately connected with the desert and the storms, that he had a right to miss it. He didn’t miss the lack of diversity, or the slavery, nor did he miss the violence and general disgust for a good portion of the population. But he missed the warmth of the desert and her sands, he missed the dry breeze and the canyon racing, hunting anoobas and hearing the recently freed ring the Bells of Kashyyyk before they went off planet to better lives.

He sat in the back with Leia, who was running the plan over and over to herself in her mind. Luke really wished she would have taken his suggestions. She didn’t know what the palace was like, the horrors she would face and the way things worked. She’d be waltzing in with a confidence she did not have the right to possess, and that made Luke worried. If they had done things his way, the Tatooinian way, it’d be different, and he wouldn’t be nearly as anxious as he was now.

“Luke, do you think this will work?”

He looked at her, cracking his eyes open to find her seated on the other side of the booth. She was a bit paler than usual, her knuckles white as she balled them into fists, her eyes trained on the sabacc table in front of her. Reassurance, she was looking for reassurance. Asking if the plan Luke had tried to tell wasn’t the best would work.

“I think if we try we have a shot.”

He wouldn’t say yes because it’s Jabba’s Palace and nothing ever really went according to plan when it came to that place. They had a plan made by outsiders and it showed, but then at the same time they refused to listen to him and his knowledge. They wanted him because he knew the layout of the palace, but nothing else beside brute strength.

She frowned, lips thinning as she clearly tried to work through something in her mind. Luke didn’t care what, he didn’t ask either.

“I really want, no, need this to work.”

Luke softened, just a little bit. He knew she loved Han, that Han loved her back. Love made people crazy, and he was no exception to that either. Luke knew that if something happened to you he’d also go a little haywire, and for the past year Leia had been incomprehensibly patient about rescuing Han. Luke could give her that much at least.

“I know.”

They didn’t say anything else, instead opting to shut their eyes and tip their heads back as Chewie piloted up front. Lando was waiting for them on Tatooine, having infiltrated it a month or so back so he could glean information and pass it on to them about Jabba and his inner workings. Luke really hoped all of this would pay off in the end.

It was only when they came close to landing did Luke start to get antsy. He wanted to find you desperately, to kiss you and hug you, breathe in the scent of you and feel your being beside his own. There was always something soothing when it came to you, like water, he supposed. Refreshing and necessary for survival. Leia seemed to pick up on his anticipation, her hand coming to rest on his arm in an effort to help ground him. He shot her a quick smile, grateful. Soon, he told himself, soon.

They landed in Mos Eisley, although it was just temporary for Luke to go get you. He left quickly, hood up so he wouldn’t be recognized. The bounties, last time Luke had checked, had not ceased, and only increased in their worth. Darth Vader’s especially. Luke tried not too hard to think of his father, not here, not now. There was a mission at hand, and although he had made peace with Vader being his father, he still wholeheartedly believed Anakin Skywalker had not ceased from him fully. If Anakin were truly dead, then the bounty wouldn’t read alive and unharmed.

He wove through familiar streets, walked down shortcuts and felt his heart racing the closer and closer he got to your door. Your home, a white apartment in a structure that made little sense, came into view twenty minutes after he landed. It was located on the third floor, accessible through a staircase outside of the building; he truly didn’t know how to describe it. Only that the windows weren’t uniform, there were no true levels to the building, and it was more like a bunch of apartments that didn’t belong together had been mushed together to create a building.

Soon enough he was in front of your door, but when it swung open it was to a face he was unfamiliar with. A young human woman, her hair covered in a shawl that covered her neck and shoulders, a plain white dress that covered the rest of her body. Luke could hear a baby crying in the back and something cooking on the stove.

“Can I help you?”

Huttese, she was trying to gauge whether he was from Tatooine or not.

“I’m looking for a girl, she’s a healer and she lived here at least four years ago, with her family?”

The woman's eyes widened before pity overtook her face, “You didn’t know?”

Dread began to squirm into wakefulness, deep in his stomach, slowly creeping up, “I’ve been offworld for four years, the-the empire took me, I’ve just managed to return to Tatooine.”

He watched her brows furrow, grief starting to cloud her face as she looked at him longer the more that he spoke, “Her father worked for the empire, her mother, she uhm, she made pottery. The girl I’m looking for, she was-she-”

“She was taken by the Hutts.”

It was like an anvil had dropped on his head and crushed his heart in the process. You. Taken by the Hutts. Enslaved. Slave. You. No. He couldn’t bear it, but the force rang with truth, terrible, terrible truth. Just like when Vader revealed his truth to Luke, this one left him with an urge to throw himself down the tallest ledge he could find. You had been enslaved. After twelve generations of your family’s freedom, you were enslaved.

“When?”

“I was told around two years ago now. Her father, he was killed, he was on the death star or whatever it is they’ve called it and you know how it goes here. They see someone of value, they hit the family with extra taxes and since they lost the empirical paycheck they couldn’t afford to pay. So they took the girl first. The next month the second sister, the third month the oldest brother. The fourth month the little brother. The fifth month the final child. The sixth month they took the mother. I heard she didn’t last long. From what I know the eldest was sold to Jabba himself.”

Oh force, oh kriffing force. Your whole family, enslaved, your parents dead, all because he blew up the goddamn death star. The death star that he blew up. Your father had been an engineer, and he worked for the empire to bring in the income your family so desperately needed. Luke had blown him up. He had blown his future father-in-law up. Was there anything he could do to recover from that? He wondered if you hated him now.

If you resented his every fiber of being because he had left you, then he had gone and killed your father, which then led up to you getting enslaved. Would you pin that on Luke? He wouldn’t blame you if you did.

“You knew her?”

“We were going to be married. We were going to be married three months after I was taken. I came back to get her, to marry her.”

“I’m so, so sorry.”

He turned, he didn’t know what else to do but turn as the woman watched him go. She knew, he could tell. She knew what it was to lose someone to the Hutts, she knew how it felt to be ripped away from family for the sake of someone else's greed. Luke returned to the ship in a daze, stumbling in as Leia and Chewie perked up, only to be confused when he returned alone.

“Luke? Where’s the medic?”

Oh he couldn’t breathe. You had been taken by the Hutts, enslaved and had who knows what done to you. His girl, enslaved after twelve generations of freedom.

“Luke?”

He was going to be sick, something he absentmindedly thought as nausea rapidly shot its way through his system. Slavery. You were in it, forced, taken. Taken to Jabba, and really, how long could you survive in the palace with a creature like that? If you were even alive, would your freedom mean anything to you at that point? Luke didn’t know, he didn’t-

Luke threw up. Barely managing to grab hold of a bin as Leia scrambled over to him, Chewie hot on her heels. She cried out softly, reaching for him as he vomited whatever he had in his stomach. He had caused this, he had put you in chains, bound you, practically ended your life the moment he blew up the death star. Your father had been on that cursed thing. He’d been on it so he could give you a chance at life.

“Luke what happened?”

He wiped his mouth, trying to keep himself contained even when it felt like his body might shake apart, “I-she, oh force Leia, they took her.”

Her eyes narrowed down at him, “Who took her?”

“Jabba, he took her, enslaved her. Oh gods and it’s my fault, it’s my kriffing fault she’s enslaved now.”

He hurled again, thinking of you with a detonator in your body, somewhere you couldn’t see, couldn’t reach. He thought of you on that podium, stripped down to nothing but shackles as people bid on you. He didn’t even want to think about all the things that they could’ve done to you in the last two years. A slave girl at Jabba’s palace. Everyone knew what kind of fate that was. And it had befallen to you.

“How is that your fault?”

“Her father, he was an engineer working for the empire, he was on the death star when it blew up. He died and they lost significant income, the Hutts when they see someone they want usually have means of getting them. They raised her family's taxes with no warning, and with the significant lack of income they couldn’t afford to pay, so they sold her family, one member per month, until her mother was sold, and her mothers dead now too. I did this, I am responsible.”

Maybe it hadn’t hit Luke up until then that it wasn’t just blowing up the empire's super weapon. There had been people aboard that thing. Millions of people, and Luke blew them up without hesitation. Luke had murdered mercilessly to do what he needed to do, for what he believed was right. Vader murdered mercilessly to do what he needed to do, for what he believed was right. All this time Luke had been denying his similarities to his father, but when it was all laid out at his feet he couldn’t look away or run from the truth. There was, without a doubt, that Luke Skywalker was Vaders’ son, and the death star was the evidence to convict him.

There was water being pressed to his hands, and then he was looking at Leia. Her eyes were soft but she was also wearing her face of no-nonsense. Luke knew he needed to get it together, do what he could. They needed to rescue Han, get off the planet, and get to where they needed to go. He knew it, he understood it, but to know what had happened during his absence, it was too much.

“You didn’t know her father was on board, right?”

He shook his head. He didn’t, he really didn’t. He would’ve warned the man somehow, someway, of what was to transpire if he had known. He could’ve saved him if he had been aware. Why had he not considered that possibility either? Why had Luke not thought that maybe, just maybe, they had assigned him to the death star for engineering purposes?

“You knew what the death star was capable of doing, you knew what it did to my planet. You knew it needed to go, and that there was no other option. There was no time for a decision like that.”

Leia was right and Luke knew it but it still hurt and the guilt still racked him like he was being skinned.

“The only thing you can do for her now is to try and find her, free her, save what remains of her family if you can.”

He inhaled sharply, shutting his eyes as he did before opening them and nodding at her, “Alright, yes. We need to go then, Han and Lando are waiting for us.”

She smiled, a little one, but it was enough, “Maybe your medic is in there too.”

It was a very slim chance, but Luke couldn’t afford to think you were dead either. If there was a chance, even a small one, he would take it. He’d submit to your wrath, go through every punishment you could think of, he’d grovel and cry for forgiveness just to atone even a fraction for the grief he dealt you. He’d do it all for you, he wouldn’t complain, he’d bear it. If you wanted him gone after you’d collected your family and gone off planet then he’d do just that. He’d delete your commlink and try to forget your face, erase the sound of your laughter from his head. If you wanted that, he’d make it happen.

The rest seemed to blur together for him. Journeying to Anchorhead, securing their parking location for at least two weeks with coverage, and then renting a ship to go to Jabba’s palace. It was still daylight, and even though it was part of the plan it made Luke jittery. He had never, not once, snuck into Jabba’s during the day. Except they weren’t sneaking, they were practically smuggling themselves in. Leia disguised as a bounty hunter, Boushh, with Chewie as her captive. It all seemed so bizarre to Luke, to have them infiltrate Jabba’s in such a way.

When nightfall came Luke knew then that he had to move. He needed to get Han, Chewie, Leia, and Lando out of there before the sun rose or else they would be caught, sentenced to slavery, and either made to work under Jabba or killed. Neither was a desirable choice in Lukes’ opinion. But nobody seemed to ask for that either. He looked at the droids behind him, C3-PO and R2-D2, loyal until the end, they’d simply have to wait outside until Luke could give them a signal, or an alert that things had gone terribly wrong and to go get the ship asap.

Then he went in on his own. Over the four years that Luke was a runner he had become far more familiar with Jabba’s palace than most ever were. He knew secret entrances and pathways, disguised by the runners who built the palace to help their enslaved Siblings escape. Those people, Luke thought graciously, were some of the most important to ever grace the planet. Flight paths in Jabba’s palace that Jabba was completely unaware of. It was almost comical.

It was easy to slip into Jabba’s palace in the dead of night, his feet silent as he walked through the cooled halls, reaching out to sense for guards or stragglers who were passing by. None to be found though, thankfully, as he walked towards the throne room where the massive slug resided. On first glimpse inside of the room he saw bodies lazily strewn about, snores filling the air with the scent of smoked spice in the air and alcohol spilled.

He stopped short in the doorway. You were here. Here in this very room, alive, breathing, on the cusp of sleep but not quite there. Alive. You had somehow survived two years of enslavement under Jabba, and even though he could tell you were weakened you were still you. He felt it, he knew it, and his heart raced as he stepped into the room. Leia was on the other end of the room, silently going around to press buttons and for a minute Luke was dumbfounded by her stupidity.

Jabba was literally right kriffing there behind the curtain, if the thing holding up Hans’ slab of carbonite fell the whole room would wake. There was no time to tell her that though, so Luke reached out with the force as the clasps released, stopping it from clanging to the ground. Leia whipped around, eyes wide while Luke hovered Han down gently so it wouldn’t startle anybody. He pressed a finger to his lips, shushing her questions that practically burned her tongue.

With a wave of his hand the thing started to dethaw Han, louder than Luke would’ve liked but nonetheless doing what it needed to do. The only thing left would be to free you. Luke reached out, not with the force but rather the storm, letting it nudge you into wakefulness. As Han’s chest came into view he heard the faintest rustle of a chain, and then the curtain wiggled to the side, and out you stepped.

You stood in all your glory as Jabba’s long term pet. A golden collar around your neck with a matching chain vanishing into the curtain, undoubtedly to where Jabba was. He had you dressed in a black number, it was sheer and left little to the imagination, but you looked healthy. As healthy as a slave could be, he supposed. It seemed that you had secured a spot as one of Jabba’s favorites, and held onto that title too. You stood, staring at him slack jawed.

He raised a finger to his lips, and you shut your mouth, eyes darting to the scene behind you. Han was almost free, which meant they didn’t have a whole lot of time left to go get Lando and Chewie before making a run for it. Then, right as things seemed to be going well, the curtains slid open, and there sat Jabba, wide awake, just as Han stumbled free from the carbonite.

“So you’ve come to steal my possessions, hmm?”

A chill ran down Luke’s back as blood drained from your face. Jabba was awake, how Luke didn’t know, but he was awake and staring at Luke, dead in the eye. Anger, roiling and bright began to churn through him. He felt the force stirring, rising to his emotions, heeding his call. This thing in front of him had taken you, shackled you and made you nothing more than a tool for entertainment, he had made you one of his dancing girls. Luke would not forgive that, he wouldn’t for anybody, but this was personal now. Too personal.

“She was never yours to begin with.”

“The chain in my hand thinks otherwise.”

Leia was staring at him, in her arms Han who was slowly coming to consciousness, still blind and sick from the carbonite freezing. She knew they were in trouble, she knew things were about to hit the wall and that there was very little she could do to stop it, not with Han in his current state.

“This slight against me will not go unpunished. To steal from Jabba, great Jabba, to covet his possessions. This warrants nothing but death, death by the Sarlacc Pit, but before that the little thief must watch that he is not her master. But Jabba is.”

He tugged on your chain and growled at the musicians to start playing. It was too late in the night or too early in the morning, making everyone more than confused when they woke to music and Jabba’s booming voice. Another tug on your chain had you springing into action. Luke watched, because there was nothing he could do, as you twirled and used the chain for a prop. You moved sensually, in a way that Jabba certainly took entertainment to, and in a way you knew would please him for it punished Luke to see you so degraded.

In the quiet of his pockets he instructed the droids to get ready for a flight in the morning, but to be discreet about it. The Sarlacc Pit. The closest one was about 20 clicks from Anchorhead, and located in perhaps one of the hardest areas of desert to traverse through. The dunes, tall and ever shifting, the danger moving deep within them rather than above. No water, no life, no nothing. Luke had traveled through it once and swore never again unless absolutely necessary.

He thought of the worms in the Northern Dune Sea. Multiple clicks long, the maw wide enough to swallow a settlement, it was a horrendous beast to encounter. The enemy of the Kryat dragon, he too didn’t feel like running into one of those either, not with the little outsider group he had with him. That was if they escaped in the desert with no ship or speeder to help cart them out. Hopefully, and he really did hope, they weren’t going to be without transportation when they escaped.

He was detained shortly, so were Han and Leia, but thankfully by a familiar face who threw him and Han in with Chewie, Leia on the other hand went elsewhere. Luke fervently hoped that upstairs you were simply made to lay down again and nothing more. He hoped that he didn’t cost you your life with his words from earlier.

“Kid? Is that you?”

Han. He was alive, the blindness slowly starting to fade as he became more aware of his surroundings.

“Han, good to see on your feet again.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t exactly say that, but I’m here, that’s for sure.”

Chewie had already hugged Han within an inch of his life, roaring pitifully as he recounted how terrible the last year without Han had been. Luke reached over, patting Han on the shoulder before taking a seat beside him, “Saw you and Leia had a good reunion until Jabba woke up.”

Han snorted, “Her Highness can occasionally not be a stick in my ass.”

Luke rolled his eyes, leave it to Han and Leia to be the most stable emotionally incompetent couple ever.

“So how are we getting out of here?”

Luke sighed, leaning back against the rather damp wall, “We’re not getting out of Jabba’s palace until he takes us out of here. Lucky for us we’ve got a date with the Sarlacc Pit tomorrow afternoon, so we can escape then.”

“What the hell is a Sarlacc Pit? It better be something nice, like a lagoon so I can swim.”

“Oh yeah, totally. Jabba the slave king of Tatooine, the desert planet, is going to take us for a dip in the lagoon we call the Sarlacc Pit. Which totally isn’t just a massive and carnivorous thing that dwells in the ground and takes a thousand years to digest whatever it eats.”

“Kriff I do not remember you being like this, what happened since I got stuck in carbonite?”

By daddy dearest too, Luke thought, although he didn’t voice it aloud. Instead he groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, “A lot and seemingly nothing at all.”

Han looked at him, eyes a little clearer, but Luke didn’t dare look back at Han. What would Han see when he looked at him? Luke Skywalker? Or would he see a little Vader Jr on the rise? Luke didn’t know, he didn’t want to know.

“Clearly, Bespin wasn’t the best move.”

They lapsed into silence, mulling over their situation, and what they were going to do. Luke wasn’t about to get swallowed by the kriffing Sarlacc, not today, not ever. He certainly wasn’t going to let any of his friends get swallowed by it either. They waited for some amount of hours, trying to sleep so they could catch up on energy before Lando came in the morning. By then Han had mostly cleared up, although he would certainly need to rest a little bit after this, and they were ready to go.

“Aright, so uh, Leia and the dancer are still alive, although they’ve been dressed in ah, matching outfits, for Jabba’s entertainment. We’re about to board Jabba’s personal ship, since we’re having a little party today, and then we’ll head over to the Sarlacc Pit, sound good?”

Luke nodded, then frowned a little bit, “Lando, there’s one other thing I need you to get. Think you can manage?”

“I think so, we aren’t due to leave for another hour, what do you need?”

“I need a sharp knife, needle, and thread strong enough to sew skin together.”

“Got it, I know just where to find it. You want me to deliver it to you?”

“Deliver it to the dancer girl, discreetly. If you can’t, then I’ll do.”

“Understood, see you soon.”

“Thank you.”

Han shot him a look, “Why do you need those? You planning a surgery?”

“Yes.”

Han did a double take, all smugness gone as he peered at Luke, “Seriously? On who? And what for?”

“For my girl, she’s a slave which means there’s a detonator somewhere in her body. I’m going to remove it as soon as I can.”

He went silent for a minute as Han digested his words, “She’s usually the one to get the detonators out, I never thought I’d have to see the day I took hers out.”

“Wait, wait, wait, your girl? As in, you two are dating?”

Luke laughed, a humourless thing because how did everything get to this point? He was supposed to marry you after he turned twenty on the tallest dune at sunset when the moons rose and the twin suns began to dip beneath the horizon. He was supposed to go offworld with you, explore the galaxy, make a living by fixing up ships and freeing slaves.

“We met when we were six, at school. We were seated beside each other, and I didn’t know what to do with myself because she was so pretty. Skin like a soft sunset and the kindest eyes. She soothed any ache and pain, no sunburns, heatstroke, she could always find water too. A gift amongst the people, that’s who she was. At fourteen her father let me take her on a date. At eighteen I got to give her a plant, at twenty, well, at twenty we were supposed to be wed.”

Han stares at him, and so does Chewie. There’s a lump in his throat, but crying is a waste of water, so he holds it in. He can cry when he’s not on the desert planet. He hadn’t told anybody about you and the way he loved you, fiercer than fire and steadier than the desert. He loved you, loved you like the galaxy loved her stars.

“You love each other.”

“I don’t know if she loves me anymore. Her father was on the death star, and I’m the reason she got sold into slavery.”

“Because of the death star?”

“No shiny paycheck from the empire combined with the Hutts wanting her in the first place had them raise taxes abruptly for their household. Not enough money to afford the taxes, the Hutts took her and sold her to Jabba.”

“It’s not your fault that her father was in the wrong place at the wrong time, you know that right?”

Luke shrugged, “I don’t know. The least I can do for her is set her free.”

“Well I take it you haven’t had the chance to discuss with her about what happened, so I’d say don’t immediately assume she hates you for the consequences of the empire's actions.”

“They didn’t blow up the death star with everybody on board.”

“No but they did build the damned thing.”

That was true. If they hadn’t built it then it needn’t have been blown up. But they had built it, they had killed Alderran in front of Leia’s face and had been planning on giving so many other planets the same treatment. It was just the consequences of actions. Unfortunate on both ends too.

Lando returned twenty minutes later, passing a simple white clothed package to Luke. In it was the blade, needle, and thread. Luke nodded at him, thankful as he slipped the package into his shirt folds. Then Lando was opening the gates, handcuffing them, and leading them to their impending doom. When they arrived at the ship they found themselves in the belly down below, and with them C3-PO and R2-D2 as well. Perhaps most jarring were the outfits you and Leia had been forced into.

Skimpy things, bras that didn’t fit quite right so both of your breasts had spillage from seemingly every angle, and then the lowest rise of a skirt, if it could even be called that. The waist band matching the top, and then a long strip of cloth on the back, and a narrower strip in the front, covering the bare necessities. At the very least they had given you both boots to wear with the outfits. Even Jabba knew that dancers couldn’t dance if their feet had been burnt.

It was an awful feeling to see the two of you dressed like that. Degraded and sexualized, appealing strictly to the gaze of clients. Luke only hoped that Jabba didn’t rent either of you out on this particular trip. Han seemed to be thinking similarly as he swallowed when he saw the pair of you, his concern leaking steady into the force, Chewies’ as well.

You looked at him when they entered, but Luke couldn’t bring himself to look at you. His shame was too great whenever he saw you. He should have taken you with him when he and Ben left the planet. He should have spared you from such a fate. You wouldn’t be a slave after this day though, Luke would see that through. The ride there was still uncomfortable. Drunkards and drugs running rampant, the music too loud and the space crowded. He spotted the droids running around every now and then, but for the most part they were left alone.

Until, of course, they got to the Sarlacc Pit. After that they, he, Han, and Chewie, were escorted up to the plank where that wretched mouth was waiting. It shrieked, gritty and strained, but loud nonetheless. Han flinched, looking over at Luke with widened eyes, “I was really hoping it would be a lagoon.”

Luke sighed, “You ready?”

“For what?”

“Our escape.”

Luke didn’t offer any more elaboration as he willed the binders to unlock, freeing his hands as his lightsaber flew to his hand. He ignited it, watching the green blade hum to life with satisfaction before moving to cut Han and Chewies’ hands free.

“Secure that ship that’s been riding our side, we’ll use it to escape. I’ll get our girls, and blow a hole in this thing, alright?”

Han nodded, taking the blaster Chewie handed to him before running off as Luke headed down below. The chaos had migrated downstairs by the time Luke got down there. Leia was strangling Jabba, which, excellent, and you were with the droids doing something. Nobody, in the confusion of what was happening, seemed to know what was going on, and that was when Han blew a hole into the side of the ship. Shrieks and screams rang out as the ship tilted, sending multiple occupants sliding down, out of the hole, and into the waiting mouth of the Sarlacc Pit.

Luke was working on very borrowed time it seemed. He shouted, gaining your and the droids attention as he waved wildly, pointing to the side of the ship as Han blew another hole in it. Good going Han, Luke thought wildly when the ship began to pivot. His first priority was severing the chains you and Leia were bound in. The lightsaber made quick work of it, and then his lightsaber made quick work of Jabba, cutting his head off as best as he could, letting the thing gurgle through his wounds.

The droids came then with you in tow, stumbling as dust and debris filled your vision and blocked your path. Luke got hold of you though, his arm gripping your wrist tightly as he cut his way through the ship. R2-D2, for one, seemed intent on causing as much chaos as he possibly could with C3-PO complaining the whole way through. Leia wasn’t far ahead of him, her eyes searching for him amongst the crowd. She found him soon enough, you and the droids right behind him. She looked at the stairs, then she looked back at Luke and his little group.

“Luke! There is NO way those droids are making it up here!”

He paused, looked at the stairs, then looked at the droids. Leia wasn’t wrong about that. R2-D2 could definitely go down stairs but up was a different story, and this was not the time to try and figure out if the little droid had some special feature that allowed him to grip stairs and roll his way up. He looked at the stairs, he looked at the droids, then the holes in the wall. Kriff.

Leia was still on the stairs, her mind whirring to try and figure out how they were going to do this. Then she looked at Luke, and he grinned a little sheepishly at her. Her eyes narrowed down at him.

“Luke…”

“Go to Han, tell him to catch us in approximately, uhm, a minute and a half?”

“Are you insane?! Luke!”

“Leia please! Just make sure he catches us.”

“Oh he’s catching you, you and your idiot ass with this idiot plan, because who uses falling out the side of a ship as an escape plan?”

“Leia!”

“I should’ve figured this would come from the guy who threw himself off Cloud City!”

“Leiaaa, please.”

“Ugh, fine.”

She bound upwards as the ship creaked ominously, reminding Luke that he really needed to go. He looked at you, the way you pursed your lips, but there was a familiar determination to your gaze when you looked at the droids then the blown out side of the ship. Luke had sent you a video of the droids when he first got them, detailing what they were and what attributes they had. You had replied later, stating you couldn’t wait to meet them, even though you never did get the chance.

Luke did not ever think your first meeting with the droids would be with you enslaved on the day of his execution that Jabba personally oversaw. In fact, this was probably one of the worst scenarios that could possibly happen, and yet it was happening anyway. Using the force and blind instinct, he made his way to the side of the ship, praying that Han was ready.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much choice in where they got dumped as the ship turned completely on its side, forcefully ejecting you, Luke, C3-PO and R2-D2. You both shrieked as you two went airborne, R2-D2 squealing in turn. The Sarlacc Pit loomed closer, but before you all could get swallowed up Han and the ship swept under you all, catching you before certain doom. Not that it didn’t hurt though, you and Luke both groaned loudly as your bodies hit the ship.

But before any of you could really think of much, there was an ominous cracking sound from above, and then a groan. Large and taking up all the space of your attention, everyone looked up at what remained of Jabba’s party ship, dipping down, bending at the center. Luke stared at it, feeling the pulses of danger in the force get exponentially louder as he watched the ship start to break in half, with him directly under it.

“Haaannn…”

“I’m on it, I’m on it, the kriffing engine isn’t working- Luke! Luke get over here you’re good with the uh-the mechanics shit.”

“Ugh.”

You sat up at the same time as Luke, who hopped up and hurried over to look at whatever Han was looking at, “Oh Han, this is, oh kriff we are not making it to Anchorhead with this. Did someone shoot the damn engine?”

“Uh, yes, actually.”

There was another crack, making you stand and look between it and the Sarlacc Pit below. You’d much rather be crushed to death instantly. The ship jolted, but it wasn’t far enough, perhaps enough to where if you leaped out you’d be able to claw your way to safety through the sand. Another creak had things starting to fall around you and into the sand below.

“Luke, that ship has maybe, max, thirty seconds.”

“‘M tryin’, give me, uhhh, ten seconds.”

The ships’ front was dipping down dangerously low and you knew, you knew that when that thing went the ship you were on now was toast. So either, in the next thirty seconds, you guys moved of your own accord, or the ship above would move you to your graves.

“We’re gonna have to jump.”

Lukes’ head craned upward at the towering ship above you all, ready to crush him and the group. He looked at the droids, the ship, and the engine that in its final moments of heroism, had moved two feet forward.

“Oh force, we're gonna have to jump.”

Leia balked, “Jump? Luke, are you serious? Do you see what I-we are wearing? Also, if we jump this thing is going down too.”

You shook your head, “It’s either jump or crush. Take your pick, if the carbon guy and wookie are respectable they’ll keep your dignity.”

Leia gaped at you, “What about the ship?”

You raised a brow at her, “If you think we have time to argue about this ship, much less save it, then be my guest but personally I’m not doing that.”

At that moment the loudest crack sounded, the ship above jerked, and you knew there was no time.

“Who wants to throw droids?”

They shot you incredulous looks, except for Luke, all stared at you like you had suggested blasphemy. Then the droids began to levitate, and you just knew that had to do with Luke. He had changed, you knew it as soon as you saw him, but he was still Luke, your Luke. The droids went over, and then Han, Leia, Chewie, Lando, and just as the ship above broke completely, you and Luke leaped. The sand shifted underneath the two of you immediately, forcing you two to claw and haul your bodies up until you two were no longer in danger of the pit, or the ship, which had fallen on it.

For a moment you all simply laid there in the burning hot sand on the burning hot heat in the burning hot desert on the burning hot planet with the burning hot twin suns bearing down on you all. You had escaped Jabba, you had actually escaped freaking Jabba the Hutt. Luke was back. Luke. You shot up, a small shriek leaving your lips while Luke shot up at the noise. You shoved him, pushing him back down to the sand as he yelped.

You heard him yelp, an unrestrained giggle leaving him as the others stood and stared, confused as you took a fistful of sand to throw at him.

“You-You-Luke Skywalker, I wake up the morning after you tell me you’ve got two new droids to learn your house burned down, that your family has been burned alive, that you’ve run off with OLD BEN of all people?! Then like two weeks later, still no message of if you were alive or not, then you blow up the kriffing DEATH STAR?! Then, as if it couldn’t get worse, you don’t even send me a message? A measly little ‘Hey I know we were supposed to get married in three months but my life just imploded, I just want to let you know I’m still in love with you’, that would’ve been nice. But no! No! Instead I have to spend the next two years checking the bounty hunter wanted list to make sure your dumb ass wasn’t caught or anything. Not like I could do anything if you were! Because guess where I’ve been? Tatooine! Tatooine! And you’ve been gods knows where, but I wouldn’t know, because YOU NEVER TOLD ME! UGH!”

You threw another fistful of sand at him as he reached for you. Four years of nothing. No word, no knowledge. Any of what you had ended the moment you’d been sold to Jabba, so the only thing you had left was word of mouth, gossip. You knew he had a run in with Vader, that he lost his hand, you knew what he was doing, where he was working. You knew he hadn’t come back for you, so you waited, and waited, and waited. Four years of waiting, and now here he was.

“Well, can I start with saying I’m still in love with you? And that I’m so, so, sorry. I didn’t want to leave you behind, I tried, force, I tried to come get you. I wanted to come back so badly, to hop on my little fighter and drop everything, come back to this forsaken dust ball and take you, marry you. I had my vows written, I’d practically carved them in my skin by the time everything happened. I didn’t-I didn’t know your father was on the death star, if I had known I would have gotten him out, I would’ve saved him. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-

You cut him off, you had to. He had said everything you needed him to say, which meant you could kiss him again. Four years of not kissing him, four years of being torn across the galaxy from each other. You had him back after four years. Of course you were going to kiss him. Plus, he had just freed you from slavery.

His hands came up to rest on your hip and cheek, he didn’t resist, didn’t hesitate. You kissed him and he kissed back like it was second nature. Perhaps it was, and even though four years had passed the memory, the want of each other still remained, thrumming in your bones with tandem. You had loved him since you were a child, and he had been too. A wedding that never came to be, grief, terror, and two totally different paths.

You pulled away first, breathing hard because it had been so long since you had kissed Luke. Since he had truly stolen your breath away again. He looked at you, wide blue eyes like the water so heavily coveted on such a planet. His nose wasn’t quite the same, and there were scars running down the side of his face too. But he was Luke, your greatest love, the one you waited four years for even if two of those years were spent in slavery. He had come back for you.

“You didn’t know, none of us knew until after it had been done. It wasn’t your fault.”

He was silent for a minute, his eyes roving over your face, the way it had changed over the years, the new scars, the curve of your jaw, all of it.

“Let’s get married when this is over, I’ll get you a plant again, I still remember my vows.”

You laughed because if you didn’t you’d cry, after all of it, everything that had happened, Luke still wanted to marry you.

“Of course we can get married when this is over.”

He smiled, wide and endearing, the one you dreamed about to help keep you sane. Then something flashed across his face, fleeting but there, you wouldn’t miss it. You frowned a little bit, reaching up to cup his cheek.

“I know nothings’ really fine right now, but will you tell me what bothers you later?”

“I will. I promise, but also, I got something for our run, for you.”

He pulled the white package from his chest, making your eyes light up. You knew what this package was, what it contained. You knew the pain that would come with it, but you didn’t care either.

“We need to remove it here then, I’m still in range of the detonator switch, and if that rubble shifts on it…”

Luke knew what you were saying, and considering how the ship, now laying in a pile of nothing on the Sarlacc Pit, that possibility wasn’t exactly unlikely. It needed to come out, and it needed to come out now. The group had turned away the moment they heard you yelling at Luke, respectively turning their backs and making small conversation to tune out the murmurs between the two of you. Leia and Han had their moment earlier, now it was time for you and Luke. It was only when they heard you two moving again did they turn around.

There you two stood, side by side, Luke now missing a layer to his shirt so you could wear it, covering yourself at least a little bit. Leia shot Han a pointed look, but he merely gave her a look back. She rolled her eyes, sighing before looking at Luke, “So, this is the medic?”

Luke grinned at her, “Actually, she’s my fiance, she has been since we were eighteen. She was supposed to be my wife about three years ago, but that clearly didn’t happen.”

You waved a little, introducing yourself to the two you didn’t get a chance to interact with earlier. Han, on his part, looked rather smug at the fiance reveal. Everyone else was simply staring, likely because they didn’t even know of your existence. You knew with all of Luke’s bounties that anything tied to him would get found and extorted as well. It was part of the reason Jabba took you specifically. They knew what you meant to Luke, knew when he eventually found out it’d hurt him terribly. There was no way it wouldn’t, but it went beyond his sweetheart turned into a slave. It was the history there too. Luke was the first freeborn from twelve generations, a direct mirror to your lineage of twelve free generations.

Lando, ever the charmer, sprung into action. He crossed the sand quickly, sweeping your hand into his and pressing a kiss there, “It is good to properly meet you Lady Skywalker.”

Luke laughed as you grinned at him. Lando had, during his short time at Jabba’s Palace, been one of the nicer guards who slipped extra slices of bread or offered salves to put on your feet after hours of performing. He had been a little bit of heaven in such a horrid place. You were grateful to him, even his endless charm. Lady Skywalker. You supposed that was you, or who you were meant to be. Three years ago you would’ve been recognized as Lady Skywalker in the eyes of those most important to you and Luke.

“Lady Skywalker.”

You tested the name on your tongue, finding the weight of it comforting. Luke, it seemed, very much liked the sound of that. Cheeks flushing as you spoke it aloud. That made Han and Chewie laugh, even though it furthered his embarrassment. Lady Skywalker, that was who you were.

“Lando Clarissian.”

The rest had approached finally, letting you study them now that the threat of a dreadfully long and painful death no longer loomed over your heads. Handsome and tall, minus Leia, these were the people who Luke trusted to have his back for the past four years. People who you had no idea about, who they were, what they did. They were part of Luke’s new life, and you were his sole tether to the past.

Han, Chewie, Leia, Lando, Luke, and you. All of you were now in the desert, stuck and clad in possibly the worst wardrobe ever for a walk through Tatooine. You also still had an active bomb implanted in your skin somewhere. Something you were reminded of when the rubble shifted again behind you. You glanced at Luke and looked at the suns hanging in the sky, sunset wouldn’t be too far off, and you needed this thing out.

He looked at you, “We need to hurry.”

You nodded, steeling yourself. You had gone through worse, so much worse. Getting the detonator out would be a blessing, a real one. No more threats of getting blown up and dying painfully slow.

“Do you know where it is?”

“Third rib on the left.”

Leia furrowed her brow, “What is it?”

You looked at her, letting your fingers come to press where it was, “My detonator. You’re lucky you weren’t there long enough to receive one, but here on Tatooine they implant little bombs into us slaves so that way, no matter what, we’re always at the mercy of the masters. We get out of a certain range? They blow up. We displease them too badly? They blow us up. They want some entertainment? They line us up and then blow us up one by one. So, naturally, the only thing we can do is remove them.”

“You’re going to perform surgery here? Right now then?”

Luke looked at you, shrugging a bit, “We’ve removed detonators in worse places.”

That had them exchanging a few looks. Luke hadn’t told them about being a runner, which you expected out of him, and now was the time to tell. You nudged him, “Talk while you cut.”

“Alright. Well uh, gather around I guess.”

You laid down, settling yourself in the sand as Luke settled to your side, lifting the shirt enough to show the area. He pressed, feeling the faint lump where you directed him to. That detonator, when it was first inserted, felt like your life had well and truly ended. Now Luke was removing it in the desert he loved so much. Freeing his love from the last bits of her slavery.

“We were runners.”

He laid out the items, holding the blade up to inspection as the four others sat around them. It was hot, yes, but it was what they had, and you needed the detonator out before you went anywhere. He sighed, looking at you as you laid on the ground, body turned towards him. You were shaking, just a little tremor, but enough for him to notice. He let his free hand, the fake one, settle on your arm, running his thumb across your skin.

“I’m about to start.”

“Alright.”

He let his hand drift down, knife pressing above your skin. Luke hesitated, he hated himself for it. But he hesitated. He didn’t want to cut you open, see your opened flesh and that little thing that could cause so much damage. You were going to be in pain, lots of it, and there was nothing you could do.

“Luke. You’re a runner, and this is my flight. Now get the damn explosive, out of my ribs.”

“Try not to flinch.”

“Try not to cry, we can’t waste water right now.”

He took a deep breath, nodding as he pressed in. Your skin opened easy, parting like tough butter under the knife as he cut over the detonator. You didn’t flinch, forcing yourself not to tense up, but he did hear your muffled shriek as he opened you up.

“Runners are people who free slaves illegally. We have routes, and everytime we take a job to free the slaves, we call it a flight. It’s been going on for thousands of years, the knowledge passed down from each generation. The masters don’t know about it, well, they do. But they don’t know our language, our cultures, our ways. They might know an inkling of the flight paths, but they don’t know about the passageways we’ve built into their buildings, the tunnels right under their feet.”

There, he could see the bone, see that stupid red light and hear your shuddery breathing. You were both lucky it wasn’t someplace like the base of your skull or lodged into your spine.

“I see it. You’re almost there.”

You groaned, remaining still but too focused on the pain to properly answer him.

“We learned how to cut detonators from people when we were younger. I learned from my Aunt Beru, she was always good at getting them out. She never ran any flights, neither did my Uncle Owen, but he wasn’t unwilling to hide a flight in our home if we really needed it. There were no teachers out there with us in the field, mostly because we had been taught all the skills we would need by the time we turned ten. We were more than ready when we turned fourteen, and yet we weren’t ready or prepared at all. It’s different, being in the thick of it.”

He didn’t have tweezers, but he did have the force, so he gave it a tug as you gasped sharply. He could feel your pain through the force, clouding your head and letting you fall to primal instinct. There was also another issue. Your skin was starting to close up in front of his very eyes, restitching itself, knitting together. He had forgotten, for a moment, what it was to be a champion like you.

“Shit, shit.”

They looked and clearly they had seen what your body was doing. Han peered up at Luke, “Is this a force thing?”

Luke shook his head, ignoring Han’s question momentarily as he turned to you, letting his free hand stroke your cheek, “My love, you are blessed by the three moons, they heal you, heal us. They are closing the incision too fast, I must open your flesh again.”

It had been too long since he had last spoken the language he found the most comfort in. The language he had written his vows in, the language his father would’ve grown up speaking. A language Vader purposely forgot. He let it come back to him like how he fell into kissing you again. The language was with him always, but it was not a language for those outside of the Amavikka culture. You had grown up with the culture, just like him. Learning Huttese, Amatakka, then Basic.

“How is she-?”

“Moons blessed, that’s how. My love, this is going to be quick, this is going to be painful. This isn’t going to be pretty, hold her leg down, she’s in too much pain to think rationally, someone else keep her shoulder down.”

Han moved to your shoulder as Leia to your legs, they both placed their hands on you, keeping you steady as Luke grit his teeth before pushing the knife down. He called on the force, helping him take hold of the detonator, and then yanking. You practically howled, the meat of your body clinging desperately to the intrusion, not slipping out like many of them were supposed to, but clinging, like your body was in the process of absorbing the damn thing. Knowing what your body was capable of, it could very well be true.

There was blood on him, your blood, it splattered as you shook, body curling in an attempt to shy away from the source of the pain. He wanted so desperately to soothe you, to take this pain from you and rid you of it. But he was the one performing surgery on you. For years he had watched you on the opposite end of the knife, murmuring soothing words that seemed to relax and numb them as you parted their flesh. You had made it not so bad, but when it came to yourself it seemed the pain was worse than anybody else's.

He tugged harder, ignoring the little splatter of blood that came from it as the detonator started to give way. It was coming closer, closer, you were so close to being free. A little more, a harsher tug, he saw the meat pull off more, the blood running down, smearing across his hand as he desperately cut you off the detonator. You were trying very, very hard not to cry. Screwing your eyes shut tight as you bore your way through the surgery. He wondered why your patrons didn’t numb you, why they let you suffer through something as terrible as this.

“Almost, almost.”

“Lukkesh..”

The last bit fell away and he could finally breathe. The damned thing was out, you were free, your time as a slave finally physically complete. Luke wondered if Vader still had his detonator or if he had it removed. He really, really hoped the man had it removed. Your breathing was shuddery, your head still swimming as you lay there in the sand, body too warm, the wound gaping open.

“You did well, so well. It’s over now, I promise, you’re free.”

You nodded, letting your eyes flutter shut for a moment until he started speaking again, “The first flight has been flown. Body returned to soul, the chains are severed, the slave set Free. I return you to yourself, let you bear no weight of shackles ever again, let the generations that come from you never fear the depur. Your choices shall be your own from this moment forward, your actions ones you take willingly. You are no longer bound, and if you so chose, may ring the Bells of Kashyyyk.”

That had you grinning a little, somehow registering his words as your body began to repair itself. Free. You were freed. Luke had come, he had freed you, saved you, returned you to yourself.

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you.”

You sat up slowly, head starting to clear as the wound began to grow up, filling the hole completely as you did. In Luke’s hand was the detonator, a small thing packed with a whole lot of damage. He held it out to you, letting you inspect the tiny thing that had ruled over your life for so long.

“Thank the moon Ghomrassen for the divinity of healing. My torn flesh and broken bones belong to him and him alone. I thank him for lending me the strength of withstanding the process it takes to heal, for not everyone is blessed to survive.”

“Thank Ghomrassen.”

The wound sealed shut, the skin pink and raw for only a few seconds until that faded into a white line which then faded into nothing as well. You reached up to his face, tracing your finger over his nose, “Fix this nose so he can be whole.”

Luke winced as the bone realigned itself, straightening and reforming until it was the nose he had before it broke. You didn’t heal the scars though, you knew he’d like to keep them. It was part of being a runner, keeping the scars. But the nose, well, that was a little bit of an exception.

“Thank you.”

You sighed and then stretched a little bit, leveling a look at the man in front of you, “Thanks for getting that out, it was rather annoying living with a bomb in my ribs all the time.”

He chuckled, standing up and offering his hand, “We should start making our way out soon. I don’t want any stragglers coming by to find the wreckage of this. At least with us in proximity to it. The bounty hunters won’t take kindly to this, nor will the Hutts.”

You took his hand easily, standing up as Han did too, “I agree, we need to head to Anchorhead, from there we’ll be able to steal a ship or scam the kriff out of some guy and get out of here.”

“You always put things out so eloquently.”

“Ooh, has all the time off Tatooine made you posh now? You start talking like a Corrie lately?”

“Oh shut up, I do not.”

“I dunno, you’re using words bigger than Tatooine’s, admittedly limited, vocabulary, but it’s eloquent so don’t worry too hard about it.”

The rest stood up as well, letting you two fall back into silence again as the true extent of the journey lay out before you all. A walk through the desert from here. It wasn’t going to be a short journey, or an easy one, because it’d probably be easier if they were on probably any other planet besides Tatooine, but they weren’t. Four of the people in your group weren’t used to the desert or what it would entail, they didn’t understand how atrocious the next handful of days were going to be.

Luke cleared his throat, capturing their attention, “Okay, so we’re stranded in the Northern Dune Sea, no supplies except a bloody knife, a needle, and some thread. We’ve got no water, no clothes good for traveling through this place, exactly two weapons not counting the knife, and no contact with the outside world because all our comms were either destroyed or on that ship. Beyond the obvious, there’s a few other things.”

“Most importantly. You four are not desert people. Meaning that this trip back is probably going to be a unique form of torture to you four that will make a meeting with Vader look like vacation. So, here’s a few tips and tricks. Don’t wet your lips, it’ll make them drier and more painful. Don’t cry, it’s a waste of water and it’ll only serve as a headache inducer. You’re going to sweat, and there’s going to be a lot of it. I’m not sure if my body will handle it the way it used to, but desert people generally don’t sweat, we’ve evolved not to, in a way. And then, sand walking.”

You took over then, grin matching his, “Alright. Sand walking is important because there are a lot of predators over here, and a good portion of them live in the sand. An excellent way to survive and avoid them is to walk in rhythm with the desert. Luke and I will show you how, but it’s important not to repeat your moves. You’ll be slow at first, but you’ll pick up on it, and trust me when I say you’ll need to pick it up quickly because if you don’t then we will be eaten alive and I did not just get freed from slavery to be eaten by a worm or lizard.”

Lando blinked, glancing between Leia, Han, and Chewie before looking at you, blinking rapidly as he leaned forward, “Worms and lizards will kill us?”

Luke snorted, “Technically, yes. We’ve got Kryat dragons, lesser and greater, but they have a natural enemy called the Dune Sea Worms, which are basically, oh, say, twenty clicks long? No eyes, no ears, no nose, just a mouth big enough to swallow buildings, and consequently, anybody that is in that building. I wouldn’t say we have a great relationship with them, but if there’s a champion of Kydush then their traditional steed of choice is a worm.”

You nodded, “He’s not lying. The champion of Kydush will harness the worm and ride it to freedom, he’ll swallow the depurs in his path and make them regret ever enslaving people from the get go.”

“Kydush?”

Luke grinned wider, “Yes, Kydush. God of the warriors, he’s a great strategist, military man. He looks over the soldiers and offers aid to runners during confrontation. His champion is always strong enough to bear the reins of a worm.”

Leia was looking at where a detonator had just been cut out of you. The skin already perfectly healed, as if she hadn’t seen your ribs and the way your body clung to that detonator. Moons blessed, Luke had called you.

“Are you two champions of any deities?”

“Totally separate. These are deities, our pantheon to worship and follow wherever they may guide us. The force is everything, the energy in metal, a blade of grass, me, you, the sky. That is the force.”

You and Luke fell silent before he nodded, “Yes. I’m champion of the desert and the storms, she’s champion of the moons. Which means she has three domains. The soul, the healing, the oasis. It’s why she heals so fast, why she can heal anything. It’s literally etched into her very soul. Just like the desert is meshed with mine.”

“This isn’t..the force, or anything like that?”

Silence again.

“So sand walking?”

#luke skywalker #luke skywalker x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader

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