#wow apparently all I remembered from my teen years was the girl trauma.

[rowanhoney]

Rich in skins reminds me so much of an old friend I almost forgot about

[capricornus-rex]

Refuge in Sorgan (3)

Cal Kestis x Reader

Him loving to hear you talk. He could listen to your voice for hours. [source]

Summary: Still on the run after bumping into some of Greez’s old friends, you charted a course to a remote planet in order to seek refuge and replenish some supplies.

1 | 2 | 4 | Masterlist

3 of ?

It was time for supper. A warden of Rodik’s approached your cottage, inviting you over to the celebration by the bonfire, both of you exit the cottage and joined the villagers. As you stepped out into the open, a few youngsters approached you and recognized you; in a split second, you realize that these youngsters were the children that you met during your first time in Sorgan. You expressed your surprise on how much they have grown from small boys and girls now into young men and ladies.

“A few more months and you could be taller than me!” you teased a young blonde boy as you patted his head.

A woman walks up to you and offers each of you a bowl filled with a generous helping of food—a combination of grains, oats, vegetables, and grinjer meat—with a complementary beverage.

The two of you found a spot by the bonfire, watching the men play music while the adolescent boys and girls dance in a circle formed by joined hands, the children were singing along with the music. When the music toned down, a little boy shyly approached and then tugged your sleeve.

“Can you tell us a story about what the Jedi do?”

You smiled, endeared by the child’s request and noticed that he had a group of friends behind him with the same request when you peeked over his shoulder. You couldn’t say no, so you tell them to gather round and find someplace to sit. Cal offered his seat to one of the kids and he sat down on the floor with the rest of them.

You gestured to the other children to come join in, when the teenagers saw the little ones huddling around you—they gathered round as well. Apparently, they all have been waiting for you to tell them about your adventures.

“Well, what do you want to hear about? Though, I’ve so much to tell!”

It was a mixture of requests—some wanted to hear about tales of fighting giant monsters in scary planets, others wanted to hear about the Clone Wars and how you fought in it. You decided to throw in a clever compromise: you narrated your mission in Onderon where you had to fight a dispatched army of droids and then eventually fighting off a nasty swarm of wild Rupings with very few men to help you.

“What’s a Ruping?” a little girl asked.

“Well, it’s a big bird but instead of feathers, it’s got scales and sharp teeth in the beak,”

You splay your arms wide to make an impression of its wings with your hands complementing as claws as you describe it to them, then you slowly lowered your arms and attacked the small boy next to you with tickles as you embraced him—pretending to be a Ruping yourself.

The giggles of the children rang amidst the crowd, Cal glanced at their smiling faces and then back to you—thoroughly enjoying your time in sharing your stories. When it eventually became more animated as you continued to use your hands for gestures, Cal’s eyes would wander over your entire person—the way you spoke, how you panned your attention and eye contact with the children including the teens at the back of the huddle, how your eyes twinkled against the flickering firelight, your interaction with them, and how you effortlessly made these kids laugh and smile at impressions, gasp at suspenseful moments, and just excite themselves over stories of grandeur, adventure, and danger.

Cal finds himself smiling at the sight of you around children.

As he too listened, he leaned his cheek over his fist while lovingly staring at you while you kept on telling stories. He could imagine the moments as you retell them—he could hear the lightsaber’s humming, the Ruping’s deafening screech, the firing of the blasters, and the muffled voices of the clone troopers underneath their helmets.

The story transitioned to how you were fighting off the creatures with your lightsaber while the clones blasted it. The children could only imagine the intensity of the battle, a few of them shifted on their seats while some intently propped their chins on their palms as they listened.

You were at the part where you jumped on a Ruping that was trying to gnaw one of the clone troopers to incapacitate it. You left out the part with that trooper already dead to spare them the trauma.

“And then what happened next!?” a child eagerly asked.

“I hit its wing with my lightsaber, I hit it many times but it kept flying, until…” you paused for dramatic effect. “It started to fall down—I had to grab on tight to it!”

The children were eager to know the conclusion to the story; when the Ruping—along with you still mounted on its back—plummeted down, you took a leap of faith when Commander Vim, the clone commander of your squad, caught up to you via the Low Altitude Assault Transport.

“He told me to jump before the Ruping could land, he told me he’ll catch me and…”

You had this habit of pausing at the most suspenseful moments, Cal saw your technique and he’d privately chuckle while seeing the kids gasp and plead for you to go on.

“I jumped.” You spoke softly, but the thrill of that memory was felt through your voice. “And he caught me!”

Half of the children sighed in relief after holding their breaths for that part, the other half cheered—rooting for you to be caught by Commander Vim safely.

“How was it? Falling from a high place?”

“Very scary, but I had to be brave. And when you are brave, you know that you can do a lot of things—even the ones that used to scare you.”

The little ones went hush, but the little “oohs” were audible to everyone else.

“Could you tell us another story? Did you ever pilot your own ship?” an adolescent boy standing in the middle of the crowd asked in the midst of the silence.

“I did,” you smiled. “We even went through a nebula.”

The idea of entering and passing through a nebula was fantastical enough for these young minds. They have never seen the outside of their planet and the vast reaches of the galaxy, but they have an idea of what these stellar elements are—during the rare nights where there are nebulas near enough Sorgan’s orbit to light up the night sky. In the backs of their heads, the youngsters could imagine the iridescence of nebulas, dotted with glittering stars like a piece of luxurious fabric; what more if they could see the inside of a nebula?

“What was it like?”

“Was it bright?”

“Is it true that there are creatures living inside nebulas?!”

The teenagers bombarded you with the questions that you didn’t know which to start with. Eventually, the parents started calling over their children, including the adolescents, lightly scolding their children that they have worked you up with the stories and that you needed rest. The little ones groaned, wanting more; you didn’t want to make promises that could be broken, so you just watched them be shepherded by their mothers and fathers, retiring to their cottages. The parents would glance to you, give you quick smiles, or inaudibly mouth the phrase “Thank you” for entertaining the children.

When the herd has thinned, Cal joined you to his original seat when the child that occupied it has left; a girl with sandy brown hair, perhaps not older than nine years old, approaches—at first she seemed shy and yet persistent to ask or tell you what she needed to. You saw that her mother was waiting way at the back, where the crowd of adults was standing earlier.

“[y/n], miss, do you think I can be a Jedi too?”

Both you and Cal were taken aback by the child’s question, you had to exchange looks with one another before answering her. You look into her eyes and realize that she does not grasp the big picture—but you don’t expect her to. Neither of you could lie to a child. You took her hand—surprisingly, a strong enough surge of the Force flowed within the small body of this little girl. Indeed, the Force flows healthily within her—a vessel pure of heart and innocent of spirit. You smiled, brushing her hair to the back of her ear.

“Yes, little one, you can,” after hearing your answer, never have you ever seen a child’s genuine smile stretch ear-to-ear for a long time. “Just remember: trust the Force, feel for it and it will guide you. Always.”

“Will I ever feel the Force, Miss [y/n]?”

“Yes, you will, but you have to be patient. When you feel it close to you, welcome it. Do you understand?”

She nodded with a smile.

“What is your name?” you asked.

“Elura, miss,”

“Such a beautiful name, Elura,” you cooed, caressing her tender cheek before finally letting her run back to her mother.

Now all that’s left is you and Cal still sitting by the fire. When most of the villagers have retreated to their cottages for the night, both of you relished the serenity of the night—the glittering stars over your heads, the crackling embers of the fire, and the chilly fresh air. Cal places his poncho over your shoulders to blanket you, but instead you shared it with him—snuggling close together with Cal wrapping his arm around the small of your back.

“Wow,” he muttered quietly.

“What?”

“I never knew you were so good with kids,”

You clicked your tongue, “There’s no big difference between younglings and village kids. They still dream of grand things and adventures,”

“Still, you managed to make them sit still for your stories. I don’t know what you did but you gotta teach me that mind trick soon,”

“I didn’t use mind tricks on the kids, Cal!”

“Hey, kidding!”

You softly thumped his chest with the back of your hand as you two softly laughed. He tightened his hold around you. Something has been running in his mind ever since the storytelling session. You sense his thoughts, they were loud but of good intentions.

[perculiar]

Wow. Just an the longest phone conversation with my mum ever trigger warnings for: sexual abuse / child sexual abuse / domestic abuse / murder / OCD   

It started with talking about the man who murdered my auntie and his ongoing murder trial and went into my realising I Officially have OCD then went into intrusive thoughts then went into why and I told her I never wanted to tell her about the Bad Thoughts and that having them was some of my earliest memories and she said she knew something happened when i was really young (like >6 y/o) because apparently “no child behaves like that for no reason” and then she told me about a girl who s. abused her for 2/3ish years til she moved away when she was 11. (apparently the same girl abused my auntie but they’d never talked about it until a few months ago and my mum was terrified this older woman was gunna show up at my aunties funeral?) and then my mum was really balanced and was asking if the person who hurt me then was still in our families life so i told her no and then eventually told her who it was because I didn’t want her to think it was a family member or close family friend. I didn’t tell her what she did but said it was COCSA. and the name of the girl. and that her little sister had been present. and that it’s all so hazey except a few very vivid memories. I said with the COCSA it’s usually bcus one of the children gets/has been abused themselves and i said for some reason I always avoided this girls dad and never went into the house? To which she said that this girls mum struggled so much bcus this man pretty much abused her. My mum also said that her mum used to come and borrow money from her every week to feed her 5 kids because this girl’s dad used to take the money & my mum never ever let me sleep over there & eventually this girl and her family managed to move away from him... to selby of all fcking places (selby is a v close town to where i’m living now lol) it was fucking intense. but i felt close to my mum. and she said so many good things. and she was concerned that i would hate her bcus she hated my nana for not protecting her. but i told her i dont hate her and never did and always saw how much she tried for us... our family is just unlucky as fuck. and i told her i see now that a lot of the situations i put myself in (ie. being sexually abused by diff ppl in my teens) were bcus i was reeling from abuses I could never identify?? and she said she understood and could relate to that and pointed out how similar we are (which we rly are tbh) but she wanted me to be the “better version” of her, “the prouder version” and fuck. she kills me and she deserves the world, honestly. she’s been hurt so much. like, we both have, but her more so.  we also talked abt how my “dad-not-dad” abused her. and how i saw that on the domestic abuse level and that’s why i resented him. and how she recognises it was sexual abuse too because she never got the chance to say no. and how she identifies as asexual... so i talked about the different types of asexuality and relationships and how sexual identities forged from traumas are 1000% fucking valid. i just needed to write this out to remember and mark it.