ao3.life

Slaves

Tag · 1,324 works

249 works open to everyone here carry this tag; 69% are complete. The average one runs about 14,400 words. Read any of them in your browser, save it as an EPUB, or listen to it.

Some results are potentially explicit

Star Wars - All Media Types+3

The Inevitability of Oversight

by DAsObiQuiet

Anakin has been at the temple for a while now and his life seems to have stabilized, mostly. No small feat for a time-traveling former Sith. But, even with support from those in the know, this tentative balance can't last. It's only a matter of time before something gives, and with Sidious directly involved, he can only prepare and hope; not something he's exactly good at. Sequel to Dangers of Foresight

Teen 216k words 45 / ? ch In progress 4.1k kudos

Family · Family Bonding · Family Feels · Family Issues· +23 more

One Piece

L’Appel du Vide

by StudiousMusings

“The call of the void” is a french phrase used to refer to intellectual thoughts, or the urge to engage in destructive behaviors during everyday life. Examples include thinking about swerving into the opposite lane while driving, or feeling the urge to jump off a cliff edge while standing on it. It's also known as Luffy's constant state of being. I was just trying to survive on the hell that was the GrandLine. As a kid, pretending to be a boy was just the easiest decision. But when you save a princess, it kind of opens up your options. Being a Pirate's not so bad now, it's even better when other pirates are still terrified from my bounty hunting days.

Teen 166k words 38 / ? ch In progress 2.8k kudos

A Bounty hunting reputation is very useful on the grandline · A+ Parenting · Ace Lives · Ace is a smooth talker· +49 more

Star Wars - All Media Types+2

He Is the Chosen One

by wearethewitches

Darth Vader dies.Then, Anakin Skywalker wakes in the body of a dead slave woman in 31 BBY, a year before the Occupation of Naboo.-[oneshot, unfinished; blanket permission to steal or rewrite] He Is the Chosen One Becoming one with the Force, Darth Vader lets his last breath leave him… …only for smoke to clog his lungs, a wheezing gasp escaping a fragile ribcage that seems so small, yet so _powerful_. He blinks hurriedly, fires flickering around him. Pain bursts across his front and his arms and he reflexively pushes up, realising with horror that he’s on a lit bed of coals. Flames lick at his skin – _skin, not black durasteel, **what is going on** _– and he pushes upwards with the Force, flying high out of what is some sort of deep-set pit in the ground. “ _What is this?_ ” calls out someone in Huttese, the language causing involuntary shivers up his spine as Vader lands on the sandy floor. He looks up and around, feeling the beginnings of burns along his arms, the sensation of sand and grit foreign against the soles of his feet. He’s in some kind of Hutt den, next to a wide covered ring full of slaves – fighter slaves, _champions_. Vader looks at his hands. Pale, almost purple limbs that he flexes and squeezes greet him. Vader has _hands_. But fingers curl around his shoulder and the outright strangeness of the action causes him to stiffen. Luke is the only one who has touched him voluntarily, these past twenty-three years. Only Luke. The grasp tightens and then it tugs, almost painful; Vader is turned around to face an armed guard and behind them, the Hutt, Nyarla. “ _What is this?_ ” the guard demands of him, a blaster digging into his chest as he drags him to his feet. The action makes a rattling noise and Vader registers the stiffness of his neck, horror dawning on him as he realises he’s wearing a collar with the broken remnants of a chain. “ _How did you jump out of there?_ ” “ _Force-user!_ ” Nyarla shouts, an uneasy jeering rising from the well-dressed crowd at her side. Inside the ring, the slaves looks uneasy and scared. “ _Bring her forwards!_ ” Vader thinks, _her?_ Then he grabs the wrist of the guard and twists, hauling them over his back to the ground, using the bare heel of his foot to smash it against his face. Their nose concaves, green blood splattering across their face, the sand and Vader’s foot – Vader’s slim, dirty foot, from which he looks up, following the line of his legs to his crotch. He feels only a smidgen of confusion then, at why Nyarla the Hutt is calling Vader _her._ “ _Good guards are hard to come by! Stop that!_ ” Nyarla shouts and Vader reaches for the Force instinctively, annoyance rising into a blistering arc of power. His arm rises, hand shaped in a familiar pose, while below her the guard fatally seizes, going slack. Nyarla starts to choke from the Force of his action. Vader does not revel in it, only squeezing tighter. When the Hutt falls over sideways dead, the panic _really_ begins, the first blaster-bolt firing. Vader dodges, feeling the muscles of his legs – _her legs?_ – and the taught flesh across his – _her?_ – body. It is a privilege to somehow have a full body again, one that reacts to his every command and whim. His only misstep comes when he attempts to reach for his lightsaber and finds nothing there. “Fear me!” Vader howls, forcing his empathy outwards, radiating _fear_ and _submission_. His shout echoes throughout the cavern and it’s definitely feminine, despite its low tenor. This cannot be what lies beyond life – what of the planes of existence where ghosts tread? He steals a blaster – he kills all he sees, except the slaves. They get to live for that sole reason. When the den is quiet and bodies litter the floor, Vader reigns himself in. The Force used to be like the sea to him, strange and always slipping past his fingers – but now, in his later years, it is more like the vastness of space. It goes on and on, forever and ever. There is nothing to grasp because the Force is all around him – it is a constant of life, with no limitations. If the Force is space, then Vader is a star, burning bright in the vacuum and if he wishes to use the Force, all Vader must do is _expand_ and take more of the world into himself. “Where am I?” he asks the slaves. He sees their eyes flickering between him and the bodies; they will search for their transmitters as soon as Vader leaves, of that he is certain. Vader must meditate – only by looking inwards will he find the explosive device that is surely under his skin, if he too is a slave. Then he will be able to cut it out, or at least defuse it. “What planet are we on?” “Or-Orvax!” _Orvax – we’re barely three hours at lightspeed from Tatooine._ Vader clenches his fists at the thought of being so close to the place his mother died, where they both lived as slaves. _She would be so disappointed in me,_ he reflects morosely, before striding from the room. He doesn’t expect the slaves to follow him. “Wait- wait, please, Silla!” one calls out, “What do we do? Where are you going? How are you alive?” “My name isn’t Silla,” Vader says. “But how did you live?” they ask him and that’s when Vader stops, turning around in the corridor they’re following him down. He stares at them. The slave woman steps forwards, hair braided against her skull for the ways of _Dustglass_. The fact that Vader knows that, _remembers_ that is too much and so he stays silent, staring, watching – waiting. The woman of Clan Dustglass watches her, too, but she’s desperate. Her voice is full of it when the speaks and the Force around her reeks of muffled confusion. “You were in the fighting ring and you died. Your neck snapped and you _died_ , Silla. How did you wake up again after that, in the Burning Pit? You’re just a girl – how did you jump? Why did Nyarla call you a Force-user?” _Questions. I can answer questions,_ Vader thinks, even as his hand rises to his head, asking himself one of his own. _Am I a Dustglass?_ He wonders, but there are no braids beneath his touch that would say so, only gnarled and twisted curls. Somehow, it is less relieving than Vader thought it would be. _Why does she care?_ “I’m not the Silla you know. The Force brought me here on the eve of my death,” Vader describes slowly. Dustglass gasps, but then there are presences behind him – he feels them in the Force, their intentions clear. Vader whips around, blaster at the ready. It is pitifully easy to dispatch of them when they rampage around the corner. “Who _were_ you? What is your name?” Dustglass asks, when the bodies have settled once more.

Teen 18k words 1 ch Complete 1.7k kudos

Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued · Alternate Universe - Gender Changes · Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug · Angst· +24 more

Star Wars - All Media Types+2

The Warmth of Resight

by DAsObiQuiet

This would be the first time both Anakin and Shmi would speak to each other as free beings. Even to the Jedi Master, it felt monumental.

Teen 3.7k words 1 ch Complete 1.3k kudos

Family · Family Feels · Family Fluff · family love· +15 more

Fall Out Boy+2

Lonely, Lonely Little Life

by oh_ms_omegalomaniac

Human slavery isn't pretty. It's horrible and lonely and unhappy. But sometimes friends can be found. Brendon, Gerard and Patrick have it pretty bad, yeah. But they have each other.Dallon, Frank and Pete have everything they could want, sure. But they hate every moment of it.

Teen 55k words 37 / ? ch In progress 1.2k kudos

Angst · Brendon Is An Idiot · Depression · Human Trafficking· +35 more