Black and grey blackwork tattoo on skin of a yin yang circle, with the Rebel Alliance emblem in the black half and the Galactic Empire cog in the white half.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Rebel and Empire yin yang tattoo

Blackwork · Black and grey · Photo

A close-up photograph of a circular yin yang tattoo in solid black ink on skin. The black side holds a white Rebel Alliance emblem at the top, and the white side holds a black Galactic Empire cog symbol at the bottom, with a thin black outline around the circle. The image is cropped tightly with no background detail, and the ink appears crisp with minimal shading.

Blackwork Yin yang Star wars Circle

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The stamp came in a crate labelled lamp oil, which is how I knew it was from Tallow Reach. Corvin had cut it from a bulkhead plate, two curved halves that only sat true when you turned them, one black and one bright, so that every manifest I sealed in the Veshti customs hall would carry both our hands at once. I had worked the grain docks for nineteen years under an Imperial inspector's slate. Nobody had ever asked me to lie on paper so neatly.

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The first ledger was easy. Eleven hundred tonnes of barley bound for the hive towns, weighed twice, stamped with the cog on the dark side and the wings on the light. Tesk, the inspector, glanced at the seal and nodded, because the cog was his and the cog looked honest. On the reverse of each page I wrote a pencilled tally of who had actually eaten. By the third shipment my wrist had learned the turn without me.

Then Tesk came down to the dock himself, sweating through his collar, and asked why the seal looked wrong. I told him it was the lamplight. He held the stamp up and found the hairline where the halves met, and for one long breath I thought the barley would cost me my cell. Instead he laughed, pressed his own thumb to the black side, and said, 'Then the grain is ours now.'

We stamped the last crate together that night. The circle came out whole, the wings and the cog sitting in the same ink, each one biting the other's tail across the manifest, and neither of us could say which side had won.