Bahreal Forest, Onderon
24 ABY (Celevon is 13)

J’akked kept his eye on his charge as the lad took aim with an old slugthrower rifle. The Hapan took in the teenager’s stance, position of his hands and lowered the binoculars. “Both eyes open, kiddo.”

“Yes sir,” Celevon replied immediately, brushing his windswept hair out of his face - nothing they tried could tame it.

“Don’t call me ‘sir’. I work for a living,” Jack instantly retorted.

“Yes ma’am.” Came the cheeky reply. A light slap to the back of the teenager’s head only drew a wider grin. Celevon kept his gaze focused, slowing his breathing, finger beginning to clench the-

“No, no, no. Stop. You’re doing it all wrong, Cel. Caress that rifle as though it’s a lover - gently squeeze the trigger or you will miss your target. Once your breathing is under control, hold it in. That’s it. See that bag of sand the rifle is resting on? Squeeze that slowly with your left hand until you find the sweet spot. That’s a lad. You’ve got one shot at this, that’s all you should need. Ready?”

The dark-haired teen gave a minuscule tilt of his head in the affirmative, cheeks flushed a bright red.

“Take the shot,” J’akked breathed, lifting the binoculars just in time as the teenager depressed the trigger. The slug exploded out of the end with very little sound, thanks to the makeshift suppressor before it struck the tree a hair to the right of the center.

Dearest K’tana,

I am writing to you from your distant future...sorta. I am doing so as your benevolent Goddess and your ashamed mother. I want you to know that I will always love you, no matter what you do, who you kill or how many people you try to screw. However, if you could learn to love yourself more and be less obsessive over random dudes, I will be happier and I can promise your life will improve. Drastically. I know you never knew your dad, that’s mostly my fault, but please get over the Daddy Issues. They’re stereotypical and you’re better than that.

(Ps, stop neglecting your Rancor and Kowakian Monkey-Lizard. They, unlike the blond statue you’re chasing, actually love you and want to be around you. Let the dude go. Chicks before di..well, you know.)

Love, Mom.

Based on a true story

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1AAPXUGBp476x3Y9GCbw5ZZdSbZ9-OvXHcXlXYr0wfZ0/edit?usp=sharing

"You see," my dad began, "you shouldn't get so down on yourself, son." He sat in his chair and idly rocked back and forth. I remember the cool breeze and the reflection of the sun on the water. It was late Summer in Northern Wisconsin and I had retreated from civilization to nurse my wounds.

I had fallen for a girl. She had become the center of my universe. I woke each morning thinking of her next kiss and fell asleep at night knowing the struggle of the day had been worth it. Especially when I slept with her in my arms. To me, it had been perfect. Then her husband had shown up. I had not known she was married and she pretended to be very surprised by the whole thing, as well. I was mortified. My world shattered. The woman I loved could never truly be mine. I had just explained the whole situation to my father.

My father's counsel had always been wise, if not practical. He thought for several long, quiet moments before he turned to me. His brown-blonde hair rose and fell with the wind. His blue eyes twinkling mischievously. "Do you love how she makes you feel?" I nodded emphatically. "Could you ever marry her?" I shook my head no. It would be a cardinal sin in our value system to break up a marriage. "But you like having sex with her?" I nodded twice as hard than before. "Well, then, I'd tell you this one piece of advise...

Rings don't plug holes."

Son, there comes a time in every man’s life where he needs to learn about the importance of ovaries. I’m sorry, but this is that time. Hm? Aww, c’mon, just sleep with a prostitute *once*, you might like it!