#Like 9 of them stem from the accident and rising episodes

[onwardintolight]

Han x Leia, ESB, Trip to Bespin, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Summary: ESB from Leia's POV. A journey from despair to hope, a blossoming, an opening to vulnerability and love.

Warnings: Deals with some heavy themes, incl. working through trauma, depression, self-harm, attempted sexual assault. Each chapter will be individually warned.

Note: I’m currently in the process of reposting the first nine chapters here in full, since when I first wrote this fic, I only shared links to the chapters on AO3 and FFN. I will try to post at least weekly. In the meantime, if you’d prefer to binge-read it, the entire fic is posted in full on AO3 and FFN.

Part: Masterlist | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | Epilogue

Soundtrack

~~~

Warnings for Chapter 10: none

~~~

In dreams, she remembered all over again. Cruel needles probing and cold liquid rushing through her veins, sickening, turning every sense to ice and fire. Her back against a wall, cornered by the interrogation droid and the towering, half-human monster; the horrible rasp of his breath and the explosion of pain as he clawed at her mind. And later: the scent of ozone and the hard, mechanical grip on her shoulder as she stood there, drugged and shivering in her thin, white senatorial gown. Watching the sickly green bolt of light trace its inevitable path; desperate to be able to reach out and stop it, to take it into herself, for her to be the one to burn instead. Her home igniting into an inferno, its brightness scorching her corneas, the tidal wave of agony coming off of it scouring away what was left of her softness and hope.

A hand, warm and gentle, on her shoulder, and her name, as if from far away.

“Leia.”

The voice came out of the distance, from somewhere beyond the roar of the flames, breaking through her screams of agony.

“Leia, it’s all right. It’s Han. I’m here, sweetheart. You’re safe.”

She opened her eyes, and the searing, blinding light died, replaced by the dim cabin and Han’s anxious face, coming into focus as it hovered above her. Seeing that she was awake, he stopped shaking her, his hand reaching up to cup her forehead and brush a strand of damp hair out of her face. “It’s all right, sweetheart,” he repeated. Leia felt her screams turn to sobs, and she half-turned her head into her pillow, trying to stem the flood. The mattress on the bunk shifted as Han climbed in, nestling in close behind her. “It’s okay, Leia. I’m here.”

She tried to stifle her cries, but she kept breaking anyway. It was all too much. It was enough to have lived through it once—why did it have to pierce her over and over again in her dreams, making her experience it like new every time? No matter what she did, she could never escape. And she could never stop the advance of that sickly green light from the Death Star, nor divert its course. A part of her still hadn’t learned that, though. The part of her that still hoped was crushed every time.

Her sobs spilled out, muffled by her pillow. Somewhere, from beyond the raging grief, she felt herself scoff at this display, at this particularly flagrant lapse of composure. She didn’t want Han to see her this way, not again. And yet somehow it felt good to have Han behind her, holding her, stroking her hair, his warm breath on her neck as he whispered comfort. On an impulse, she turned to face him, burying her head in his chest as he pulled her close.

“It’s okay, Leia,” he murmured, cradling her head. “You can cry all you need to.”

As if the words were a permission she didn’t know she needed, she felt herself weeping even harder. But there was a trickle of relief let loose with it now, too. She felt less confined, less backed into a corner, even as Han’s arms engulfed her—and less sick from the effort of keeping it that way.

Slowly the inconsolable anguish subsided, along with the choking sobs.

In their place was a deadness.

All the nightmares she’d ever had mingled with reality in times like this. She knew she had not been tortured today, yet her veins still ached from where she had been pricked three years before. Alderaan’s blast had not happened today, yet the agony of her people still echoed loud in her bones. She hadn’t died with her planet, nor had they been incinerated by a star in their earlier, surreal escapade to save Threepio, yet she already felt gone—a ghost, maybe. Unsubstantial, unreal. Ash that might crumble in a slight wind.

Would she be stuck in this limbo indefinitely, suspended in these horrors? Could she ever escape and become, be real enough to overcome? Or was she already dead, already faded away?

Han’s heart beat against her temple, his warmth radiated into her from all sides, his embrace both tender and firm. He… he was real. She breathed in pace with him, measuring the rise and fall of his chest.

He was real.

And if he was holding her like this, then maybe she was too.

Her tears had soaked the skin on his chest, making it uncomfortably slick, but even as her eyes dried and her breaths grew less and less ragged, she clung to him, unwilling to relinquish his reassuring solidness.

“Stay here, Han,” she whispered. “Please.”

“Ssshh, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Their breaths grew long, and his fingers slowed on her back.

--------------

Leia awoke gradually, surrounded by a sense of warmth and security and peace. As her eyes fluttered open and she slowly became more aware, she remembered why. Nestled behind her was the long, firm form of Han Solo. His legs were folded behind her own, and an arm cradled her waist. She sleepily wondered at her lack of alarm. Once, she would have started awake in shock and sought to put as much distance between them as possible—in fact, that’s exactly what had happened on a past mission or two (accidents, she’d told herself at the time). Now, a sense of peace endured. There was nothing to worry about. This… this felt so right, so safe, having him here in bed with her.

In bed with her. She felt a thrill at the idea of those words, that reality.

Okay, so maybe she was a little excited. We haven’t got time for anything else, Han’s words echoed from earlier that week, and she grinned at the memory of what had thrown her so thoroughly off her guard at the time.

And why shouldn’t she feel this way? She was done denying the force of her attraction to Han—and this was more than just attraction. The strength of what had grown between them over the past few years was something she’d never felt before, not even in her younger days with Kier. She would no longer pretend that every blasted thing he did didn’t make her crazy. She would no longer deny that if she had her way, they’d spend the rest of their lives, however short, together. She would no longer deny that many mornings over the past three years, she’d awakened as she’d done now and imagined him lying there beside her, imagined this feeling, imagined him….

She closed her eyes again, trying to memorize the sensation of Han pressed up against her, committing it to memory. This, she told herself. Keep this. Keep this forever.

Maybe, once he woke… maybe he would pull her even closer, and she’d turn to him, and he’d kiss her the way he had kissed her in the circuitry bay, and he’d not stop there, but…

She blinked, slamming the door down on the thought.

No.

She may not be denying what was between them anymore, but that didn’t mean she was ready to jump all the way in. He was still planning on leaving, wasn’t he?

As quietly as she could, she slipped out of his arms and out of the bunk.

--------------

Leia waited calmly at the dejarik table as the caf dispenser gurgled, the scent, at once soothing and invigorating, filling the air. She felt significantly more awake, and, she hoped, significantly more in control of her desires.

Still, she had to fight not to think too much about how utterly nice it had been, waking up with Han like that.

As she considered the night’s events that had led them there, she felt rather more sober. She played absentmindedly with her hands, glaring at them in annoyance as if they were somehow the source from which her nightmares had sprung. Yesterday’s near disaster must have triggered the remembrance of a worse one, she supposed. Why wasn’t her mind content to just not think about it? The Force knew she tried so hard not to during the day. Even after three years, it was still too much.

I guess there’s your answer, she told herself. You still can’t deal with it; you probably never will. Not fully.

The caf dispenser beeped, and she got up to fill her mug.

Still… she thought, it’s different, now, with Han. Maybe the nightmares would never really go away, but something, at least, had changed. She no longer felt like she had to face them alone. Han had shown her he’d be there, even if she woke him up in the middle of the night screaming. Moreover, it seemed that he continued to truly see her and not be daunted, and that was both humbling and freeing.

Can I do the same for him? she wondered as she sat back down, sipping her caf.

She wanted to. Han, as much or even more so than her, had always been resistant to anyone getting too close, seeing too much. She’d long suspected he hid a lot of hurt underneath that barricade, some of which she knew about after their years working together, but some of which yet remained an enigma.

She knew that he’d grown up a so-called “scrumrat” on the streets of Corellia, begging and thieving to survive. She knew there was a criminal overlord of sorts, someone who exercised control over him—which, she figured, explained his aversion to being “under” anyone now. And strangely enough, she knew—via General Draven, who’d naturally done some investigating, and through a few brief conversations with Han himself—that he had once been in the Imperial Navy and Infantry. She still couldn’t quite wrap her mind around that. Picturing him in uniform felt absurd.

She’d been loath to ask him more about any of those facts, assuming that they were memories he’d prefer to leave far in the past. There seemed to be a lot of those, with Han. She wondered what pain he was hiding.

She took another long, slow sip of her caf, considering.

Han kept up his own barriers, that was for sure. The two of them weren’t all that different in that way. But he had been taking an axe to hers as of late, and it felt… good.

Maybe there was an upside to being trapped on board the Falcon for this long. Maybe she could finally begin to crumble Han’s walls, too.

--------------

Leia’s understanding of Shyriiwook was rapidly improving. It was remarkable, but not altogether surprising, how much easier it was to learn from a native speaker and friend as opposed to a stuffy Alderaanian tutor droid. It had only been a little over a week, but she and Chewie were already having full-fledged conversations, pausing every so often to ask Threepio or Han for help translating. It was a delightful diversion from the long hours of their slow crawl to Bespin, and Leia treasured the new level of friendship that had sprung up between the two of them.

Today, they were sitting at the dejarik table. Chewie was sprawled out comfortably with his hands tucked behind his head, and Leia had nestled against the cushions with her legs curled up cozily beneath the spare blanket. They had just finished going over the subjunctive, which was conveyed by an extra little modulating gargle in the middle of the verb. They were now taking turns throwing out phrase after subjunctive-containing phrase, each translating the other’s into their own language.

«It is necessary that Han clean the ‘fresher next,» announced Chewie gleefully.

Leia repeated it dutifully in Basic before responding. “It is necessary that you clean the hair out of the shower filter.”

«If that is so, let us hope that your hair contribution is small.»

Leia chuckled. “I highly doubt there’s as much as yours! Either way, I pity Han if the task falls on him.”

«Speaking of Cub, I hope his smell improves.»

Leia swatted at him good-naturedly. “Han smells just fine!” she exclaimed, breaking the chain of subjunctives. To tell the truth, she found his scent appealing—regardless of whether he used some of that ancient Chandrilan cologne, which he only pulled out on special occasions (or when some unhappy mission’s reek demanded it).

«He does to you! You’re a human female!» Chewie said, rolling his eyes.

She laughed. “I’ll give you that one.”

He stopped for a moment, regarding her, then he reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. «It makes me happy that you’re laughing, Little Princess. I hope things continue to get better for you.»

Unexpectedly touched, Leia found herself focusing on the seat between them, unsure of how to respond. “Thanks, Chewie,” she finally said, glancing back up and giving him a small smile.

Looking into her eyes, he nodded, patted her one more time on the shoulder, and then leaned back, continuing the subjunctive train. «We hope to arrive on Bespin next week.»

“I hope there are no more escape pod incidents beforehand.”

«Very true, Little Princess. It is necessary that we fly smooth and fast, with no more runaway droids.”

Leia paused. “I hope Luke made it back to the fleet all right.”

«I doubt that cub would falter.»

“I wish we knew for sure.”

«I bet he wishes he knew about us, too.»

Leia sighed, nodding. “He can probably sense us through the Force, though. He’s practically a Jedi. Hopefully if he’s there he can tell everyone we’re all right.” It was a reassuring thought. Maybe he’d get word back to Mon, to Rieekan, to all those who would be worrying about her. Come to think of it, she was fairly certain Luke was all right, too, though she didn’t voice it. It was only a feeling, and therefore unreliable.

She considered for a moment and began again. “It is necessary that the Alliance wins and brings peace and justice to the galaxy.”

Chewie nodded solemnly, leaning forward. «It is necessary that all beings are set free.»

Leia felt something twinge in her heart. “I hope we can see your people freed someday, Chewie.”

He reached over and tousled her hair. «If we free my people, I suggest that you come visit Kashyyyk. You will have a grand welcome.»

“I would love to come to Kashyyyk and meet your family.” She had heard about his family from Han—apparently he had a wife and son who were still, as far as they knew, enslaved by the Empire—but now that she could finally understand the Wookiee himself, she was eager to hear about them from his own lips. The lesson seemed to be over anyway. “Tell me about them, Chewie. What are they like? If you feel like talking about it…?”

Chewie let out an affirming growl. «I am happy to talk about my family. It is hard being far from them, knowing they are suffering. Sometimes I think we will never be together and free, and the loss is so—» (here he spoke some word Leia didn’t recognize.) «But I speak their names and remember them. I do not forget. I will remember them and return.»

He bowed his head briefly, then continued. «Mallatobuck is my wife. She is as bright and warm as sunlight, and very smart. I miss her clever teasing. She has sass like you, Little Princess. And she is very beautiful. Her eyes are as deep as the bottom of the forest, and her fur is eaghraaghla—ah, you do not understand that word. It means smooth and soft and full. Her scent is like the rryylghra fruit. Her intelligence and beauty are well-known in my tribe.» He paused, lost in thought, eyes far off, as if picturing the exquisiteness of that silky mane.

«My son is Lumpawaroo.» He faltered for a moment, shoulders slumping, then went on. «He was taken from me when he was still very young, so I do not know him as I should. I will always remember his scent, though, and I will know it should we meet again.»

He was quiet again for a little while, his head bowed, his great furry arms resting heavily on the table. Leia reached out a hand and laid it gently on one of them.

«There are others I love and miss,» he continued. «My father, Attichitcuk. I don’t know if he is alive or dead. My mother is dead. I miss my tribe, my village. They have all been scattered, put in Imperial slave camps. Fallen leaves cannot be put back on the branches. A wroshyr tree will not hold all of us together again.» He glanced at Leia. «You understand this loss, Little Princess, more than anyone.»

Leia nodded, unable to speak. The grief woven through his words hung heavy on her heart. “I’m so sorry,” she finally whispered.

He turned to her. «Will you tell me about Alderaan? Your tribe?» His eyes shone gentle; entreating, not demanding. She knew he would not take offense if she said no.

She swallowed. Then, to her surprise, she found that words were flowing freely out of her mouth. She described her mother, regal yet so human, gentle yet so fierce, with a wisdom and astuteness that not only served Alderaan well but helped Leia find her way through life, too. Her father, with his patient persistence and quiet rebellion in the face of the Empire; with his delight in books and in dancing and in her, and the way he’d taught her how to delight in things, too, both big and small. (She wondered if she’d ever really regain that ability, or if it had been lost along with him.)

She talked about her aunts, and the happy memories of their visits—well, mostly happy; she loved them dearly, but she still bristled at their attempts to tame her into something she wasn’t. She described her favorites among the household servants and the members of the guard, and she told him about her personal attendant droid, TooVee, who had done so much to care for her despite being even more pompous than Threepio. She missed them all. Her voice broke.

She stopped speaking, and they sat together in silence.

It was not a lonely silence, though. It was, Leia thought, as if there were invisible cords connecting them, a bridge fashioned out of grief and understanding. The ache inside felt as impossibly large as ever, but… perhaps ever-so-slightly less heavy, as it hung there in the space between them.

Chewie put his paw over her hand and spoke, gazing at her intently. «You, Cub, young Jedi, me—we are like wroshyr trees with melded limbs. We are joined, we have each other; we are a tribe now. We face no loss alone.»

Tears came to her eyes, and she smiled at him, nodding.

--------------

“Say, Han, Chewie,” Leia asked at lunch, between bites of reconstituted Iridonian trophlet. “I’ve been meaning to ask you two, what’s in those shipping crates in the forward hold? They permanently welded to the floor or something?”

“Hmh?” said Han, his face full. He swallowed. “Oh, those. ’S mostly Chewie’s stuff. He gets attached to things and keeps ‘em around. Dunno why.”

Damn it, thought Leia. So much for her bet that those crates she liked to take refuge behind held the keys to Han’s past.

Chewie gave his version of a chuckle, with a little shake of his mane towards Han. «I keep things that are meaningful to me. Cub understands. He just pretends he doesn’t so he looks cool.»

Leia chuckled as Han sent Chewie a withering glare. “Shut it, furball,” he replied, lofting a pointer finger at the Wookiee. He turned to Leia. “Eh, I understand, I guess, but I ain’t that interested in keeping stuff like that around for myself. The way I look at it, things only mean something if they’re connected to people. And people come and go. Most of ‘em ‘ll end up betraying you.” He shrugged. “No use trying to hold onto something that’s a reminder of what’s gone wrong.”

“So you expect me to believe you haven’t kept anything nostalgic?” Leia asked wryly. “What about that golden pair of dice hanging in the cockpit?”

Han waved a hand in dismissal. “That’s different. It’s my good luck charm. Had it since I was a kid. It’s been with me through everything.”

Chewie rolled his eyes. «And that has no meaning?» He leaned toward Leia conspiratorially. «Cub has some things in the crates, too.»

Leia raised her eyebrows at Han.

The smuggler set down his spoon and lifted his hands in mock defeat. “If you must know, I’ve kept some old uniforms, just in case. A few disguises are always good to have around, especially when you don’t have a Rebellion to provide you with ‘em. But they ain’t there because of some half-assed notion of ‘meaning,’ I’ll tell you that.”

Leia gave Han a look, then turned back to Chewie, frustrated. If Han was going to be obstinate, she could at least learn more about the Wookiee. “So what do you have back there, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Chewbacca shrugged. «Little things, mostly. On my world, if there’s an experience we want to remember, we keep something to remember it by. Perhaps we find a smooth stone, or buy a fine carraughrr—»

“That’s some sort of Wookiee art mumbo-jumbo,” Han cut in.

«—then we put it in a safe place, so we can always look back at it and remember.»

Leia nodded. “That’s a really good tradition.”

“Gah.” Han waved his hand in dismissal again, then got up, his ration pack finished. “I’m gonna get to work on those sensors. Enjoy your nostalgia party.”

Leia and Chewie shared a look, and she sighed, shaking her head. She had obviously touched a nerve, but that had only served to make him even more reticent. Her mission had failed.

Perhaps a different tactic was needed.

#HanLeia #Han x Leia #HanLeia fic #Han x Leia fic #Star Wars fic #SW fic #SW fanfic #Leia Organa #Han Solo #Star Wars #The Opening #my writing #my fanfic #my fic #thoughts

[ramajmedia]

King Of The Hill: 10 Times The Show Broke Our Hearts | ScreenRant

King of the Hill isn't just a show made for Texans. It's for anyone who enjoys a mirthful, frank depiction of surburbic Texas. Fans know there's universal appeal to this series. The show lasted a whopping thirteen seasons, and every one offered insight into the blue-collared average joe. Something else people forget is the nuanced emotion. And with Arlen being set in the conservative South, there's the habit of biding or silencing one's feelings. The show captures this aspect perfectly.

RELATED: King Of The Kill: 10 Most Hilarious Hank Hill Quotes

So, in memoriam of every pang big or small, here are ten times King of the Hill broke our hearts.

10 Hank finally accepts Luanne

Luanne Platter's uncle Hank and her maternal aunt Peggy took her in when she had nowhere to go. Her mother was in prison, and her father was not in the picture. Peggy welcomed her niece with open arms, but Hank was more resistant. He always assumed Luanne would eventually leave, and he didn't see her as family for a long time. That changed in season 2's "Texas City Twister" when Hank basically sends Luanne back to the trailer park she escaped from. So while it takes the threat of a tornado to do it, Hank finally regards Luanne as family.

9 Bill and Peg's excellent adventures

The uncomfortable dynamic between Peggy and Hank's friend Bill continues in season 4's "Bill of Sales". Fans know Bill has been enamored with Hank's wife for a long time, and that's why he helps her with her new job. And Peggy needs all the help she can get because she's trapped in a pyramid scheme. The more Bill helps her, the more Peggy realizes he doesn't respond well to kindness or gratitude. She pretends to be cruel and bosses him around to the point where his feet bleed. This is a pitiful sight that makes one's heart wrench for Bill.

8 Taking care of Kahn, Jr.'s business

Hank watches over Kanh, Jr. as her parents Kanh and Minh go on a business trip in season 4's "Aisle 8A". All seems to be going well between Kahn, Jr. and Bobby until puberty kicks in for Miss Souphanousinphone.

RELATED: 10 Dark King of the Hill Theories That Change Everything

With Peggy not around, Hank handles the situation by himself despite how uncomfortable it makes him feel. He even takes her to the one aisle at the Mega Lo Mart he never thought he'd step foot in. Seeing Hank care for Kahn, Jr. at the best of his ability is the kind of slice of life story people can relate to.

7 The land of the Rising Son

The episode of the The Simpsons where they go to Japan is beloved, but King of the Hill's season 6 finale "Returning Japanese" is equally delightful. This two-parter entails the Hills visiting Japan with Hank's curmudgeonly father Cotton. Cotton was wounded in WWII, and his feet were reattached to his knees. So, Cotton's PTSD stems from his service in Japan. However, it's revealed that Cotton shares an estranged son named Junichiro with a woman he met over there. This also means Hank has a half-brother. These episodes are proof the show is good at plucking heartstrings without ever being maudlin.

6 Boomhauer or bust

Boomhauer has always been considered a ladies man. His near unintelligible, cluttered manner of speech and good looks make the women of Arlen swoon. Yet in season 6's "Dang Ol' Love", it's Boomhauer who catches feelings. He falls hard for a woman who has no interest in dating him. This causes him to spin in a way that audiences were not expecting. After all, Boomhauer was never developed to be more than a drinking buddy for Hank and the guys. Seeing the tables turn on Boomhauer shouldn't be so affecting, but it's like watching a teenager experience his first heartbreak.

5 Mommie dearest

In season 2's "Leanne's Saga", Luanne's mother and Peggy's sister-in-law is released from prison after stabbing her daughter's father with a fork. Leanne's claims to be sober now, and she's trying to patch things up with Luanne.

RELATED: 25 Twisted King Of The Hill Facts That Will Surprise Even Longtime Fans

Hank's excited over the fact that Luanne may finally move out of his house. It doesn't take long for Leanne to return to her old ways, though. She drunkenly ruins a party and attacks Peggy, who has been biting her tongue for Luanne's sake. No longer able to stay quiet, Peggy kicks Leanne to the curb and consoles her disappointed niece once again.

4 Father figure

Kahn Souphanousinphone gets in big trouble at work in season 3's "De-Kahnstructing Henry" and is fired. To save face as he searches for a new and better job, he ups and leaves Minh and Kahn, Jr. behind. This urges his neighbor Hank to step in and help them at every turn. From fixing things around their house to bringing them dinner, Hank becomes a surrogate father to Kahn Jr. and a shoulder to cry on for Minh. This situation is not ideal for Hank personally as there's too much emotion involved. Nevertheless, Hank proves to be a very good egg.

3 Breakdown alley

Bill is a troubled, lonely man whose wife Lenore left him years ago. And he never quite got over it. In season 3's "Pretty, Pretty Dresses", though, Bill really snaps. His deep-seated depression manifests in him dressing up in Lenore's clothes and pretending to be her.

RELATED: King Of The Hill: The 5 Best (& 5 Worst) Episodes

Hank is frustrated by his friend because he doesn't understand Bill has severe mental health issues that were never addressed or treated. It feels like Hank is being a jerk, but he really swoops in and saves Bill at the last second. He's able to give Bill something he was never afforded before — closure.

2 Father of mine

Up until season 3's "Peggy's Headache", Hank's wife had no idea Dale Gribble's son Joseph wasn't his biological child. It was a well-known secret among the gang that Dale's wife Nancy was having a long-term affair with her masseur John Redcorn. And Joseph is their son. Like Dale, Peggy was absolutely clueless about Joseph's paternity. It's when Hank forbids Peggy to stop seeing John Redcorn for massage therapy — legitimate massages, too — that she learns the truth. She wants to tell Dale, but she doesn't have the heart as she sees the secret would devastate him and his relationship with Joseph.

1 100% Cotton

King of the Hill did something most other animated sitcoms cannot bring themselves to do — it killed off an important character. In season 12's "Death Picks Cotton", Hank's rude, misogynistic father Cotton becomes gravely ill following an accident. Hank refuses to accept that his father is dying, and Cotton's deathbed behavior isn't making the inevitable farewell any easier. Hank tries to say goodbye to Cotton, but the WWII veteran mocks him for acting weak. Peggy steps in and sends Cotton off in a manner he deserves. In addition, she lies to Hank and said Cotton finally admitted he loved him.

NEXT: 10 Best Raunchy Animated Series (According To IMDb)

source https://screenrant.com/king-of-the-hill-saddest-moments/

#screenrant