#constellations on the walls of their room on the ship. the bone deep bitterness of working under the fleet with the love of being able to

[trollbreak]

Sometimes ur heart is full of. Strong n soft nonbinary. Who’s so in love with the universe

[inkformyblood]

towards an unseen day

Day 03 of @bobadinweek prompt: Caretaking

Warnings: None

Laughter echoed down the small side tunnel, deep and rumbling through the earth like an aftershock, and Din paused, letting the sound wash over him.

His hand — still pressed to the wall — brushed over the symbol carved there, the chill of the stone settling into his bones as his bare skin traced the lines he couldn’t read but understood all the same.

There had been a strange look in Boba’s eyes when he took Din’s hand — pausing first, his gaze flickering upwards in a silent question — to place it against the symbol when he first carved it into the rock wall. He had mentioned the Kaminoans, and their fluorescent ink that the clones had quickly learned to hack into their HUD display, with a note of mournful laughter in his voice, but hadn’t said what the symbols meant. His free hand had curled through battle-signs as he spoke, so Din could guess well enough: home, safety, return.

An ache had settled into Din’s bones, and every step closer to home lightened his burden, but still he waited, his head tipped to one side as he listened. There was a second current of laughter, tumbling after the first like a shadow, high and uncoordinated. His steps were faster now, warmth flooding through his chest and he input the code as quickly as his trembling fingers would let him.

Light filled the small room, heralded in a thousand shimmering fragments from the mirrors suspended above, reflecting the scrap of sunlight that fell through the barred window. Lining one indented wall was an array of packaged ingredients but the order was disrupted by clear gaps like missing teeth in the neat rows. Across the opposite wall hung a tapestry, currents of scarlet and bronze dancing through a background of dark blue, the careful images of the constellations above Tatooine picked out amongst a stylised set of Mandalorian armour, but the figures in front captured Din’s attention utterly as he pulled his helmet off, clipping it onto his belt.

Boba was without his armour, dressed in instead in a loose linen shirt that clung to the broad curve of his shoulders and fell past his hips to his thighs, and dark trousers. The birikad across his chest had been modified with the dark green fabric tied around the ring on Boba’s shoulder to allow Grogu to watch the world around him.

The child’s hands were stretched towards the fruit laid out on the counter in front of him, already stained with the dark berry juice, and, as Din watched, a sliver rose into the air. It hung for a moment, commanded by a power Din could barely wonder at, before Boba plucked the fruit, his hands stained with purple smudges and threw it into his mouth.

“Patoo!” Grogu demanded, his ears twitching, but his darkening mood passed in an instant as Boba ducked his head to smooth a kiss over his forehead, tapping the curve of one ear carefully.

“Later, kid. Save some for your buir.”

Boba tipped his head, his grin broadening as he caught Din’s gaze, and picked the knife back up. Grogu babbled, waving a hand towards one of the bowls before twisting to peer up at Boba.

“Yeah, that’s the next one. Good job.”

Din’s chest felt too full, too warm, barely able to breathe for fear of disrupting the scene in front of him. He had never imagined that he would have a life close to this. The closest he got to imagining his future was a shapeless plan to provide as best as he could for the foundlings and his covert. His usual grace had abandoned him as he stumbled forward, resting his hand on the table as the expected aches and pains made themselves known, radiating down his spine and legs.

Grogu turned with a shriek of delight, his eyes bright and reached from the pouch, almost over balancing to try and reach Din sooner. He caught the child, scooping him up to press their foreheads together. The scent of tart berries clung to him, mixing with the comforting warmth of blue milk and the herbs that were mixed into the laundry to keep them fresh.

“Missed you, womp rat.”

This close to Boba, he could sense rather than see the grin that spilled across his face, but Din moved up to kiss him before it could reach fruition. The scars on Boba’s lips, ridged against Din’s oversensitive skin made a shiver roll down his spine, the action mirrored as his beard scratched against Boba’s cheeks. Din broke away, shifting to press his forehead to Boba’s, Grogu cooing in the crook of his arm in satisfaction. The slight pressure of the Force against the back of his head made Din pause, but Boba was already moving to blindly tap his finger against Grogu’s cheek in gentle admonishment.

“We’ve got the memo, kid. Don’t need any outside help here.”

Din chuckled, reflexively trying to stifle the noise at Grogu’s disgruntled whine, and gently rocked all three of them, his free hand slipping to rest on Boba’s waist. The shape of a modified blaster, carefully hidden beneath the loose fabric made him pause, his laughter breaking free once again.

“Could hear you coming down the tunnels. But can’t get complacent.” Boba’s words were grave and tinged with bitterness, and Din nodded, careful to not break their connection.

This small room attached to both of their chambers and Grogu’s room had become a sanctuary of sorts. The shelves held ingredients suitable for long term storage in case they needed to shelter, and next to the door lay the familiar shapes of their grab bags. Grogu’s had been a new addition — a small brown knapsack, contrived to have as many pockets as possible — and Din knew some of them were already filled with the snacks he enjoyed, and that the kitchen staff kept slipping to him when Din and Boba pretended not to notice.

“How was the job?” Boba stepped away with one final gentle kiss, squeezing Din’s hand around his waist before he picked up the knife again. He picked up the bowl Grogu had indicated earlier and removed one of the yellow fruit from within. It’s skin was tough and ridged, and Boba anchored it on the board before working on piercing the knife through it.

“Well as could be expected at first. The traps and countermeasures he had set up against the Imperials were well-made, and just as effective against me.”

Din felt Boba’s worry rumble through him as if he was back on the ship, the rthymic sticky sound of the knife blade pausing as he looked him over. Grogu babbled, patting his chest plate, his brow furrowed in concentration. “I managed. That’s why you pay me well.”

Boba scoffed, and Din knew that his plans for the evening had just changed. The palace boasted an impressive set of heated baths in its depths, and Din had been looking forward to sinking into them. Boba wouldn’t rest until he catalogued every new wound and every purpling bruise.

Din let his thoughts wander for a moment, lingering on the warm steam that seemed to stick to the skin and the press of Boba’s hands — the callouses so like his own, rough but a sign of skill and training that made his head swim — against the ache that had settled in the curve of his shoulders and the fresh wound wrapped around his thigh. His gaze drifted to Boba’s, taking in the knowing grin on his face.

“Later,” he promised, an eyebrow raised as he inclined his chin towards Grogu curled into Din’s arms.

Din’s answering blush was immediate, feeling as if he had scorched his skin with his flamethrower, the heat spreading down his neck and across his chest. “He took some convincing but the information you gave me is still good.”

⁂

The blaster shot cracked against the wall just above Din’s head, the heat leaving a burning line across the edge of his beskar. He bit back a curse even as a grin, wide and unrestrained, slipped across his face.

His approach to the small encampment had been slow, a careful waltz around the concealed jagged traps that lined the walls of the ravine — all carefully at head-height for the average human and designed to be deadly. Their make was familiar, the twisted knots at the top arranged in a pattern that almost looked like a hand gesture. Boba tied knots for his snares the exact same way.

The intelligence he had managed to gather independently of Boba’s thriving informant network hadn’t proven to be of much use. A sea of closed mouths and gazes that turned away the moment they could, as impenetrable as any wall, greeted him at the small bar next to the single spaceport. The man had clearly managed to win their loyalty, something that seemed to be a reoccurring thread with these missions.

He was skilled with a blaster, proving it with another shot, curved through a modified barrel to try and draw Din out of hiding. Din went with the motion, catching the shot on his vambrace and directing it harmlessly into the dirt, and he ran towards the next outcrop, hearing the clicks and whirs of the blaster reloading echoe clearly.

“Kark off, Imp!” The man’s shout was clear, rage clear through every word, and Din watched the flicker of the shadow move, elongated through the setting sun. “I’m not joining your karking plot so you can shove it up your arse!”

“Boba Fett sent me!” Din called. A bubble of laughter settled in his chest, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth, but he pushed it down. There would be time later.

Siblings, wherever they were found, held a note of similarity between them, and Boba and his many brothers were no different to Din and his covert.

The face that appeared in the small gap of the overhanging rock, barely visible theough Din’s visor, was similar enough to Boba that he could chart the similarities: the same unhinged grin, the same dark eyes and the same way of assessing the situation, his gaze focused like a sniper’s guide. But the clone had a shock of dark curls shot through with grey, grown wild after being cut back for so long and hanging at uneven lengths, and faint tattoos around his eyes, pale lines tracing around two large ovals like a Togruta’s markings.

“Boba? My ori’vod’ika sent you?” His voice in sharp contrast to the ringing shout before was quiet and pensive before his jaw closed with a snap and the rifle was drawn to his shoulder once more. “Talk faster.”

“Remember Docking Bay Seven!” Silence greeted Din’s call, as it had everytime before. Boba had shared many parts of his childhood on Kamino with Din from the small quarters he shared with his father to some of the training missions he undertook with the other clones but there was a wealth of adventures and occurrences that he couldn’t speak of.

Din understood. He couldn’t put into words the time he spent with Paz, the hours of meaningless conversations or the spark that had bloomed between them on their first meeting, tipping his face back to stare into the half-finished tattoos that ran over the other boys face like lightning strikes. But that phrase… it meant something precious to the clones Din had managed to retrieve from their bolt holes.

The clone above him laughed, wild and unrestrained. “Bob’ika has done well for himself then! Word of advice, your armour reflects sunlight like a signal flare. I saw you coming yesterday.”

“But you didn’t run.”

The man swung himself down, the muscles in his arms flexing in a deliberate display of power and control. When he stepped closer, it was a swagger, confident and sure of himself. “I am still a soldier, not matter what happened. I don’t run from a fight.”

“None of the information mentioned a name or a signifier,” Din began, and the man’s eyes widened for a moment, old surprise still fresh and burning. “What would you like to be called?”

“You retrieve many clones for our Boba?” The man’s gaze slipped over him, lingering on the mud horn on his pauldron and taking in the careful free space waiting for Boba’s mark. His grin was worn with melancholy, and his hand moved to touch the fanged necklace corded around his throat before brushing against the dotted lines tattooed across his cheek as it circled his eyes.

“Enough. There’s a compound on Tatooine many of them stay at. Some travel.”

“Tatooine?” Laughter rumbled through him, a burst of humour several of the other clones had displayed and Din couldn’t begin to wonder at. “Of course it is.

“Call me Alpha-17. That’s the name I chose for myself before all this.”

⁂

Boba hummed as Din finished recounting his mission, pausing to tap the blade along the board, now slick with a pale green juice.

“Alpha-17 helped train the younger clones after the trainers focused their attentions more on the speciality tracks. The Alpha class was one of the few that my buir hand-trained.”

Boba reached over, a piece of dripping fruit cradled in his palm, and Grogu plucked it carefully, his claws piercing slightly into the exposed flesh. The juice ran over his arms, glistening trails darkening the fabric of his robe, but Din’s attention was captured by Boba. He had raised his palm to his mouth, pale liquid spilling down his chin, and heat bloomed in Din’s belly, immediate and severe.

What he had left out of his recounting was the question he placed to Alpha-17 as they travelled. Food had been important to the covert, and learning a new recipe and perfecting it was considered the first true step towards a formal proposal.

The man had laughed, immediately plucking Din’s intentions from his careful questions, and answered as honestly as he could remember. Jango’s food was sacred to Boba, each remembered meal a sacrifice and a prayer, the kitchen made holy by his devoted attention, so Din worked at reconstruction, following the thread as devoutly as he would a bounty.

Boba paused, stretching out to draw Din down to kiss him once more, his mouth sweet and sticky, and Din marvelled at the life they had made and the possibility of what came next, each carving out a place for the other to shelter.

[greenygreenland]

Wannabe Part 12: A Bone To Pick

-gosh, i really need to stay consistent with this -i've been having a rough few weeks guys, sorry -this chapter feels kind of slow to me, but I promise it's still interesting! i'm trying to delve deeper into how your character will develop in this story (if you have any recommendations or ideas/critique, feel free to comment below!) PART 11

'𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐬 𝐰𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲...' -𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐝 & 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞

It was dark. Not a single sliver of light passed through the veil of nothing, shrouding (Y/n) in nothing but inky black. Somewhere, far away in that nothing, came a bird's cry. (Y/n) wanted to run towards it, and to grasp the comfort of not being alone in the abyss, but she couldn't move. Her limbs were glued in place while her head filled with the yearning want to sleep. Her mind told her to get up and run yet her body refused to obey. 

"(Y/n)..."

She was falling deep into the abyss, floating downwards and through thick mist. Her eyes flicked shut and her senses slowly numbed. 

"...is this what you want...?"

Yes, she thought. Here, she couldn't feel any pain or sorrow, or virtually anything. It was as if she were never a Jedi to begin with. Even though she hadn't the faintest idea about what was happening, she didn't want to fight the darkness consuming her whole. It was almost nice to not have to think about anything. No responsibilities. No fighting. Just her and the inky black of space.

"...do you truly believe that?"

(Y/n)'s mind came to, but her senses were off. The feeling returned to her fingers and all the numbness in her limbs crawled away, yet she couldn't seem to sense anything in the abyss. In fact, there was nothing there to sense. She opened her eyes and found herself standing on air. From the shadows, a woman emerged, head held high and eyes calmer than any pond or lake she had every seen. Her lekku swayed as the darkness parted around her long, brown robes. The long, white markings on her lekku were almost like lanterns in the dark. "Come with me," she said. "I will take you to a place where there is no pain, no suffering, and no sorrow." The woman held out a hand with a gentle smile.

(Y/n) didn't know what she was doing as she crept towards the woman. There was something so familiar about her that she couldn't place, something so close to the back of her mind that she tried so hard to remember. (Y/n) hesitantly grabbed her hand. There was a brilliant flash of light that tore away the darkness. The abyss of nothing morphed into a brilliant space of purples and blacks mixed in with shining stars and constellations. "Wha...who...?"

The woman warmly smiled and guided (Y/n) through the spectacular space. Images and scenes swirled in the stars, enlarging into bright display screens. Some were of (Y/n) laughing with her men, others with Fives and the cadets back on Kamino. There was a particular one that made (Y/n) let go of the woman's hand and pause in her step. In the screen was a scene of her walking through the front doors of the temple. Her master said something before patting (Y/n) on the back and leading her inside with a smile. 

That was when (Y/n) whipped around to face the woman behind her. This was no woman, but her master, the one who cared and practically raised (Y/n) for so long. Shaak had seen her wane and wax like the moons and watched her grow to learn so much. She was the mother (Y/n) never knew she needed. Shaak smiled. "I see you are becoming conscious again. May I ask what made you so keen on giving up?" (Y/n) ran a hand through her hair with a passive shrug. "I don't know."

"Is that all?" she lightly inquired. "'I don't know'? Surely you can do better." (Y/n) knitted her brows together. "What do you mean?"

"You are ignoring your true feelings. Although you fight and keep your ground, your heart tells you to run." (Y/n) didn't understand. She never ran away; not in a battle, not from her friends, not from anyone. She was a Jedi, a peacekeeper among many who were supposed to keep the balance. Supposed to. (Y/n) frowned. So what if the Council weren't very good at their job? So what if they were probably part of the reason she was kidnapped? So what if they weren't as wise as they should have? That was then, this was now. (Y/n) refused to be like them, and that made her different. She didn't run away, she accepted who she was, she understood that empathy was needed to be who she--

"You run from the truth." Shaak finally said. Her gaze was distant as (Y/n) looked up. "In time, you will have to decide."

The shining stars and constellations began to fade into thin air as Shaak gently placed her transparent hands on (Y/n)'s shoulders. "The time will come when you must make a decision. Whatever you choose, remember that I will always be proud of you." There was a gust of breeze that seemed to fuel (Y/n)'s confusion. Her emotions, stable only moments ago, were bursting at the seams and yanking at her heart strings once again. She broke into a sprint, running as fast as her legs could take her. "Master!" she cried. "Please! Don't leave me!" 

(Y/n) knew she was gone. Her presence had long been carried away by the wind, yet (Y/n) just couldn't give up like that. She couldn't let go. "Please...don't...don't leave me too."

---

The blinding lights were brighter than a flaming asteroid. (Y/n) slapped a hand over her eyes and sat up fast enough to make her dizzy. "Take it easy will ya?" said Luke. (Y/n) rubbed her eyes and squinted around the gray room. This was definitely not the ship. There were no doors or steam popping out of the floors or any yelling about 'stormtroopers' and the 'empire'. Instead, smack to the side of the room, stood a medical droid. It treated a sick patient as Luke made his way into the vast room. "How are you feeling? You've been asleep since we escaped the Death Star." 

(Y/n) sat up. "Since the what?" Luke blinked with a shy chuckle. "Oh right." he mumbled. "The Death Star was that space station we were on. And if you're wondering, we're on Yavin Four, in the Rebel Base." 

"Rebels...? Uh..." 

(Y/n) spotted Leia in the doorway of the med bay. She smiled at (Y/n) and immediately appeared at her bedside. "I'm so glad you're awake," said Leia. "How are you feeling?" 

"I am well, thank you Leia. May I ask what exactly is going on in," (Y/n) made a gesture with her hand, "here?" Leia pulled up a seat by her bedside. "I'll give you a quick overview." She began with the end of the Clone Wars, then the terrifying story of the Jedi Purge and the Rise of the Empire. She spoke of her adoptive father, Bail Organa (a man (Y/n) so happened to know quite well through Padme), as well as the emergence of the Rebel Base. At the end of it, a bitterness rose in (Y/n)'s gut. It was that same feeling of guilt and regret she felt the day Fives died. It was an uncomfortable sinking feeling that kept telling her she was a failure, and although hard to admit, absolutely true.

(Y/n) Kryze failed at the one thing every Jedi was supposed to dedicate their whole lives to: keeping the peace.

Wonderful, thought (Y/n). All the Jedi practically ceased to exist, save for her and those who actually did survive the 'purge'. Not only that, but she slept through the making of history. (Y/n) glanced at Luke, eyeing him up and down curiously. His energy was strong and powerful, and it was filled with light that made (Y/n) feel so comfortable in his presence. She didn't know him all too well, yet felt an odd connection with his energy. "You are a Jedi," she said. "Like me and those before."

"Old Ben told me my father was a Jedi." (Y/n) knitted her brows together. "Old Ben?"

"Obi-wan Kenobi. He was the one who...died on the Death Star." Luke clarified. "Did you know him?" (Y/n) smiled fondly. "Yes. He was the one who found me on Mandalore. I was," (Y/n) paused, "three or four around that time. He was a wonderful man, but he did not become my master. Besides that, you said your father was a Jedi? That should not have been possible because it is against the..." 

(Y/n)'s breath caught in her throat, and all the dots connected themselves on their own: the bright, blue eyes full of wonder aiming towards the galaxy, the excitement and energy in personality and aura, and lastly, the hair. "Anakin's the father, isn't he." she blurted out. Luke's eyes shot open.

"You knew my father?" 

"You knew Luke's father?" 

(Y/n) nodded. "Yes, I knew him. He was like a brother to me. Is your mother--?"

"What was my father like?" Luke excitedly cut in.

The smile softened on (Y/n)'s lips as she averted her gaze to the large window on the right wall. She focused on the star fighters and people rushing about, then to the deep forest covered in thick, milky fog. She savoured the upbeat energy radiating the one thing she wasn't sure she could hold fast to: hope. "Ani was one of the greatest Jedi I had ever seen. He taught me how to pilot and do a lot of practical things I wouldn't have known if I hadn't met him. Although he was a smart man, what surprised people most was how kind he was. He was passionate, and a bit unpredictable, but I...I trust him with my life."

(Y/n) knew she was saying that to comfort herself. 

"Anakin is my childhood friend. I'd do anything to for him because I know he would do the same for me." Leia adjusted the sleeves on her dress with an uncertain gleam in her eyes. She looked like she wanted to say something, but a forced smile broke out onto her face and she nodded in understanding. "You two must have been close." 

"He was the brother I never had." 

"What's all this about a brother you never had?" 

(Y/n) peered towards the threshold, where Han stood leaning against the half-open door. There was a smug smirk on his lips as he waltzed over to (Y/n)'s bedside, arms loosely folded across his chest. "I heard the Princess and Luke were in here, so I thought I might as well stop by. Did I miss anything?" Luke sarcastically chuckled. "No, besides the fact that (Y/n) knew my father and was asleep in a stasis pod for about two decades--oh, and don't forget the fact that she's Mandalorian!"

(Y/n) didn't expect Luke to be so excited about all the information she dumped on him, but then again, who wouldn't when it's about their own father? (Y/n) would have loved to hear about what her own father was like, or who he even was for that matter. Han looked taken aback. His brows raised so high that they could have flown away. "You're Mandalorian?" 

"Yes."

"I did not see that coming." He breathed out a long, hollow sigh. "Did not see that coming." (Y/n)'s lips curved into a small smile. "I wouldn't have known either if Obi-wan hadn't told me." Luke knitted his brows in confusion, so (Y/n) took it upon herself to explain. "I grew up with little memory of my home planet. Obi-wan wanted to keep it that way because of all the prejudice surrounding Mandalorians. We are known for not being...the faint of heart, so when I kept pestering him about it, he decided it was time. The other younglings overheard, and ever since then, I was the odd one out. They bullied me, but that is not the point." 

Han took refuge against a wall to lean on. "Seems kinda harsh for just being Mandalorian." he grumbled. Luke nodded in agreement. "Yeah, what's so bad about being Mandalorian? I think that's awesome. Better than being a farmer on Tatooine." Leia sent the two boys a pointed look. "You both really don't know anything about history. Mandalore battled with the Jedi long ago, don't you know? It resulted in a lot of death and prejudice." Her eyes were soft as she met (Y/n)'s. "It seems you really took the brunt of the hit." 

"I did," (Y/n) agreed. "Besides that, what do you plan to do about the 'Death Star' and the 'Empire'? Surely you've developed a successful plan?" Leia shifted in her chair, pausing in thought. "Our plan is to blow that space station up and put an end to the Empire, but it's risky, and if it fails, we might as well kiss the Rebellion goodbye. I've seen what it's done--it blew up my home planet to pieces. We only have one shot, so it's imperative we keep everything running smoothly.

"The station is heavily shielded and carries a firepower greater than half a starfleet, so from this information, we've assumed that a small group of starfighters should, in theory, be able to penetrate its outer defence. I've analysed the plans and found a narrow lane large enough to fit a few fighters. Once they get to the thermal exhaust, if they blast it in the right direction it should reach the main reactor and blow the whole thing up." (Y/n) folded her hands together in thought. "How big is the thermal exhaust point?"

"Two meters."

She nodded her head in thought. (Y/n) had a fair amount of tough missions to accomplish in the past, this being no different. Since her master was specifically assigned to Kamino, (Y/n) had a lot of solo missions since the Republic needed people on the field. As unorthodox as it was, (Y/n) didn't mind. She had her men to keep her company, all of which were wonderful people. "That sounds like a tough one." she mumbled.

The Empire ruled the galaxy with an iron fist; they grew from the ashes of the Jedi's demise and forged a false peace between systems. From what (Y/n)'s seen and heard, they were a force to be reckoned with, and much more dangerous than the Separatists because of their tight grip upon the galaxy. (Y/n) was a peacekeeper, sure, but that didn't mean she wanted to sit around and wait. She had the skills of an experienced pilot that would go to waste if she didn't help.

There was a sense of doubt in the back of her mind. She wasn't sure if she truly knew what she was getting herself into, especially since she wasn't certain if all the information said by Leia was true. "Who is the leader of the Empire?"

"The Emperor Palpatine." Luke answered. (Y/n) ripped off the sheets and got onto her feet. Simply hearing that name made her blood boil. She had unfinished business with the man, and she was more than willing to arrest him once and for all. "In that case," she stood tall, "I'm in." Leia stood by her side, the excitement in her aura bubbling like a mug cake in a microwave. "You're not the first Jedi to join. Come on, I'll get you some new clothes." Han pushed off the wall with wide eyes. "You're actually joining Space Wizard?"

(Y/n) firmly nodded. "I have a bone to pick with Palpatine. He did something I will not ever forgive." Luke knitted his brows together. "You know him too?" 

"Oh yes." There was a dark gleam in her eyes. "He tried to kill me and my best friend."

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