Little Menace

"Wow." I said. "You should put that on a greeting card."

He circled me slowly, hands clasped behind his back.

"You are alone." he said "No family. No guardians. No future."

"I prefere the word' single managed lifestyl'." I muttered.

"You possess courage." he continued. "And a sharp tongue. Both are... useful traits, in their own way."

"Useful for what? Insulting more space aristocrats?"

He ignored that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(y/n) never asked to be raised by Count Dooku.
But the galaxy rarely asks permission before ruining your life.

Dragged into the Sith Order as a child, (y/n) grows up surrounded by cold marble halls, impossible expectations, and a master whose idea of affection is "not killing you today." What no one expects is that (y/n) develops two extremely inconvenient traits: a lethal level of sarcasm and a disturbingly intense obsession with food.

While other apprentices meditate, (y/n) is busy stealing ration bars, critiquing battlefield cuisine, and questioning why the Force can move mountains but not improve the taste of standard Sith stew.

As the years pass, (y/n)sharpens into something the galaxy has no name for -a force‑wielder who drifts between Light and Dark like it's a mood swing.

Dooku calls her raw power, in need of guidance.
The Jedi call her a threat.
And (y/n) calls herself hungry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is the story of a young apprentice carving their own chaotic path through the Force stumbling, snarking, and snacking their way across the thin line between salvation and destruction. A kid with a weird obsession with chaos and explosions. A journey where destiny tastes better with seasoning, morality is negotiable, and the Dark Side has never been this... unhinged.