Ceres

Kenobi Matriarch: O’ben! My sweet little freckled boy, come give your mummy a hug! *pulls him in forcibly so she can kiss his cheeks and pinch them* Oh you are just the cutest! Ernian, isn’t he just cute?

Kenobi Patriarch: Adorable. Are you sure he’s ours, Mimi?

Mimi: Of course I am, a mother always knows. *lets Obi-Wan be dragged into a crowd of redheads so Ernian can introduce him to his four sisters, two brothers and three cousins that took the journey with them, takes the chance to glare at Jinn before grinning and pulling Anakin into her bosom* You must be my baby’s baby, huh? Lookit that blonde hair, so pretty. How old are you, cherry pie?

Anakin: *confused* Um, almost thirteen.

Mimi: Oh, that’s a good age. You look healthy for it, your teacher was a waif at that age, from the pictures we were sent while he was growing up.

Anakin: *knows that Obi-Wan was very paranoid and thin at that age, but not why* Yeah. He’s bigger now. He says he wants to grow a beard.

Mimi: Oh, that’ll be nice. His uncle on his papa’s side has a very nice beard.

Yoda: *comes dottering over* Happy we are, to connect a child to their home past the impressionable age of childhood that can confuse them, but wonder we do, why now?

Mimi: Does he always talk like that? Been doin it since we got here?

Qui-Gon: Heh, yeah, try growing up with him. O’ben used to mock him straight to his face as a kid.

Yoda: Spirit, he has! Gumption!

Qui-Gon: O’ben’s his favorite.

Mimi: He’s everyone’s favorite, from what I’ve heard. Now now, we don’t want to get O’ben all in a tizzy by inviting him to a family gathering, that would just be too much family for him to handle.

Anakin: Master handles parties very well?

Qui-Gon: *puts his hands on Anakin’s shoulders* He /survives/ parties, grandpadawan, he handles them by surviving them.

Mimi: Exactly. Just like my Ernian, from what nice Master Mace tells me.

Qui-Gon: *glares at Mace because he knows damn well her initial glare at him was from Mace’s storytelling*

Mimi: Anyways, a bunch of us had reason to head this way, decided to make it a mini reunion of sorts. Well, more like O’ben’s first time meeting most of them, but listen, my brother and husband and I got a bet to settle once and for all. Which we need to see O’ben to settle it.

Qui-Gon: *loves bets* Oh??

Mimi: Yessiree, we been wondering how many adult fangs O’ben has.

Qui-Gon: …I don’t actually know the answer to that one? He hasn’t bitten me in years.

Mace: He bit me less than two months ago after a spar. I startled him while he was in attack mode, but he was also still in sparring mindset, didn’t make the fangs drop.

Anakin: I’m sorry, what? Master has fangs?

Mimi: Sure does, baby! Alla us do. It’s Stewjoni genetics. See I got a total of eight droppable fangs, and Ernian’s only got four, so all of our kids have had a mix. We’ve even seen five in onea the boys, but he chose to get that one replaced, since it bothered him. We need to know how many fangs O’ben has to settle the bet.

Anakin: *eyes sparkling* How do you drop them?

Mimi: *pulls up her upper lip, and presses down on the gums above her canines on the left side, dropping two sharp fangs* Jus like that, sugar.

Anakin: *firm nod* Okay, I got this. *darts off into the crowd and manages to drag Obi-Wan outta the thick of it, before climbing him till he sighs and sits down, climbs into his lap*

Obi-Wan: *ignoring his cooing and snickering family while his child sits on him* Can I help you, Padawan mine?

Anakin: I wanna see the fangs.

Obi-Wan: *blushes super hard* I… really?

Anakin: Yeah. Your mom has super cool fangs, I want to see yours too.

Obi-Wan: *gives his mom a wary look before sighing, opening his mouth and manually depressing on each section, ignoring the way everyone in the room is watching* See? Not all that interesting.

Anakin: *looks back at Mimi* He has six. Who wins the bet.

Cousin 3: Gimme a minute to do the math for averages- *has the pad in his hands snatched by deft little fingers as Anakin steals it to do his math for him*

Anakin: Average looks like five?

Brother 2: Shit. I threw off the average, didn’t I?

Anakin: Were you the one with only five?

Brother 2: Yeah.

Anakin: Then yes.

Ernian: *fist pump in the air* I win! The pot is mine!

Mimi: *deep sigh, before coming over to sit next to her youngest and who she’s decided is a pretty good grandson* Well, we tried. *pulls a very confused Obi-Wan into her side for a hug* Still, we’ll be on the planet for a few days, it’d be nice to get to know you a bit better.

Obi-Wan: *blushy blushy* Oh, um, okay. That sounds nice. Anakin too?

Mimi: Yeah, O’ben, Anakin too.

Anakin: *snuggling against his master’s shoulder* We should all go to the room of a thousand fountains. It’s bigger. Less crowded. My mom works in the garages, she can come too?

For Obitine week 2021

Day 6: fix it / AU

for obitine week 2021

For Obitine week 2021

We… were not. 

War had ravaged us, and sickness, and war once again, until our population dwindled beyond the point of recovery. We struggled against that, of course… we used genetic manipulation, and cloning, and even more desperate measures. None succeeded. When the humans came, we were sinking into apathy, only a few tens of us left. We had begun to discuss whether we should commit a mass suicide, or simply wait to fade away. 

And then the young species came, in their clumsy ships, and they asked us why we were so few. 

“We are becoming extinct,” we told them. “We have passed the point of recovery.” 

It is custom to avoid the races that are dying – once a species reaches the point of inevitable extinction, even war is suspended, and the fiercest enemy pulls back. The custom was born of plagues and poisons that could be carried forth from a dying world to afflict a healthy one, but it has the implacable weight of tradition now. After we are gone, after they have waited for the prescribed period of quarantine, there will be a fight for our world. Habitable worlds are few, and this is a good one, with plenty of free groundwater and thriving vegetation. It is a bitter thing to be grateful for the custom that allows us to die in peace, but we are grateful.

But the humans don’t know that custom, and they do not leave. They seem distraught, when we tell them we are dying, and try to offer their aid - but their technology is behind ours, and it is too late. When they realize that they can’t save us, though, they do something that bewilders us. 

Inquisitor Cal Kestis

When they showed in JFO Cal’s vision with him as Inquisitor I had to pause the game cause I forgot how to breath

Inspiration:

I had a classmate in college that seemed a little odd. None of us really spoke to him unless we had to work on projects together, and he seemed like a reserved person for the most part.

Sometimes he was late to laugh at a joke, but otherwise we didn’t think he was so different.

Then came the end of semester project where we all had to discuss our detailed plans for the future in front of the class; what sort of careers we dreamed of having, the reason we were at college in the first place.

And when his turn came it changed my life.

He gave us the short and sweet version of his life story. How he was born with something wrong with his amygdala, (If I remember correctly) and because of it he could not feel emotions. He couldn’t process them, only fake them to blend in. He was keenly intelligent, brilliant. With his brain undistracted by emotions, not quite able to relate to the feeling of boredom, he was a very dedicated student in every subject he had time for between meals and sleep.

But his driving force that caused him to aim his entire life at becoming a neuroscientist was the fact that as far back as he could remember, his mother always said “I love you,” to him with a forlorn expression. A look he had realized later in his teens was due to her knowledge that he could never love her back. That every time he said he loved her, he didn’t actually feel it.

So he wanted to cure his condition. Hence his goal to study the human brain.

The single most powerful force in his entire life was a goal to one day tell his mother he loved her, and for her to smile with genuine joy believing it to be true.

I don’t care what anyone says.

The only force that would guide a young man’s life, to be completely centered around bringing his mother a joy she never thought she could have… is love.

Pansy Parkinson hated these things. These insufferable fundraiser galas her mother insisted on throwing every few months, where they would honor some wizarding organization or another and all prominent members of wizarding society were invited to donate toward the cause. Because Pansy’s mother, like all good pure blood witches, was a philanthropist. Honest to Merlin, that’s what the woman called herself, like it was her career. A position that had been drilled into Pansy so hard that even at Hogwarts when she’d had to discuss her future career plans, she’d insisted on ‘philanthropist’ like it was a job title. She’d never forget the way Professor Snape had rolled his eyes at her and dismissed her as a silly, idiot girl with no real ambition. Which, to be fair, back then that’s exactly what she was.

Sure she did well in school. Well enough to be at the top of her house. Not as smart as Hermione Granger (the twat) but she did alright. But a career just wasn’t what someone like her did. She was a Parkinson and Parkinsons lived off of their investments and old family money. They contributed to the wizarding world through fancy parties and donations to politicians. And they married other pure blood members and continued to make pure blood children who would carry on that legacy.

But now.