Movie Watching - Han and Qi'raTwelve-year-old Han couldn’t believe he was doing this. He hadn’t been to see a holofilm since, well, since his parents were still alive, and even then he had only been a few times, but now he and Qi’ra were crouching by the back door of a holofilm theater, waiting for a janitor or other worker to unlock it so they could slip inside.
“You know,” Qi’ra said in a giggling whisper, “we could get in big trouble for this.”
“Yeah,” Han whispered back with a snicker, “but it’ll be worth it.”
They shared another giggle before Qi’ra suddenly perked up. “Shh, shh, I think I hear something!”
The two children squeezed themselves against the wall next to the door as if trying to make themselves invisible, holding their breaths as if about to dive underwater.
Then it happened. The door slid open and out came a janitor carrying a trash can. Before he could notice anything, the children slipped inside, gigg
Morning Routine - Han and LeiaBeep-BEEP! Beep-BEEP! Beep-BEEP!
Dammit, Han hated Leia’s alarm. With a loud groan, he buried himself under the covers, trying to block out the early dawn light from invading the private area under his eyelids. A moment later, he heard Leia groan as she slammed her hand on the chronoalarm.
“I don’t wanna get up,” she mumbled. “I don’t wanna go to work.”
Han reached over and gripped her arm, his eyes still closed. “Then don’t,” he grumbled. “Call in sick and stay here with me.”
“Can’t,” groaned Leia. “Got lots to do . . .”
“C’mon, the galaxy ain’t gonna fall apart if you skip one day of work.” He inched up and kissed her shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her body. “Let’s both stay in bed till Ben wakes up. You shouldn’t have to work on a weekend anyway.”
For a few moments she didn’t move and Han thought he’d convince
Morning Routine - Han and Qi'ra“HEY KID, IT’S TIME TO GET UP!”
Beckett’s shouting combined with his rather incessant knocking jolted Han rather unpleasantly out of a deep sleep. At first he wasn’t quite sure where he was – his bed smelled funny, that was for sure, it was as if the sheets had been washed five times.
Oh right, he was in one of the bunks on Lando’s ship. Today was the day that they’d swipe the coaxium and get their money. A grin broke into his face as he yawned and stretched his arms over his head. Today was the beginning of freedom.
Though the bed was soft and inviting and his body wanted to sink down into it and sleep for a couple more hours, he forced himself to sit up and pull on the robe Lando had lent him – dark blue trimmed with gold thread. Shit, who wanted a robe with gold thread? That Lando person sure was weird, but his ship – his ship was amazing. One of these days Han would challenge Lando to a rematch and win what was righ
Different Clothing Style - Han and LeiaLeia hated black.
Black was the color of Darth Vader, the color that enclosed him and ate away at his soul until almost nothing remained. Black was that mask: dark, empty, void of emotion, a permanent barrier between him and the rest of the world.
Black was the darkness of her cell on the Death Star where the hours crept by in empty silence. Even all these years later, she still remembered how the walls seemed to want to close in on her and crush her under them, how she spent her every waking moment in that cell jumping at every sound, wondering if Vader was coming back for further torture.
Torture . . .
Black was also the torture droid that stuck its drugs into her and probed through her mind. In addition to the pain caused by the torture, focusing her entire being on resisting the probe brought on additional pain, which still caused her to shudder when she remembered it.
Black was the voice of space left behind after Alderaan was destroyed. Her father, her mother, her friends, her ho
Different Clothing Style - Han and Qi'raIf only Qi’ra could see Han now.
Maybe she would gasp at the sight of him in an Imperial cadet uniform and say he was betraying their lifelong dream of freedom, or maybe she would think he looked handsome in it, or maybe she would say that if this was the only way to get off of Corellia, she would support it.
Or maybe she would be wearing an Imperial cadet uniform as well.
Han kept staring at himself in the mirror. When was the last time he’d worn clean clothes, yet alone clothes that were newly pressed and stiff like this uniform? The collar of the gray shirt pinched his neck and the black pants ran up in spots that were rather irritating, but all in all it wasn’t a bad outfit. He’d even been ordered to comb his hair for his first class, which he’d attempted, but his hair still stuck up in various spots. Qi’ra used to ruffle his hair and tell him that its unkempt appearance just made him that much cuter, but he didn’t think the I