#fate of the dimmer sisters

[oxventurequotes]

luke: one of them holds out their pale hands and in it is a little white flag

barnaby: i use it to dab the corners of my mouth

[lightasthesun]

Imagine surviving the war only to lose most of the people closest to you.

The Woman that once upon a time held your heart in her hands.

The Girl that you loved like a daughter and whose death would ultimately lead to you losing your only brother.

•

In this universe, the river of time flows differently. Each step, each choice, and each poignant moment in its stream drift slightly off course.

It starts like this:

When Ahsoka and Bo-Katan ask the Jedi Order for aid in freeing Mandalore from Darth Maul's grasp and finally putting an end to the former Sith's reign, Obi-Wan does not ignore their call for help. Satine's ghost still haunts his nightmares, and it's the look on her sister's face, along with the redheads snarling accusations and Ahsoka's distant demeanor, that cause his typically composed exterior to splinter.

Through the cracks in his shields, a presence slips in – wild and tumultuous, yet practically radiant in its brilliance.

Days, months, weeks and even years later Obi-Wan will wish he'd taken a little longer to cradle her presence close.

It ends like this:

Anakin with Windu on the Invisible Hand. A incapacitated Sith in custody and another, more vile, more cunning, more sinister, choosing the wrong moment to reveal himself. A twist of fate. A long lost friend showing signs of old loyalty. Lightning. Screams. Hurt and Betrayal. The Chosen One as he was meant to be without terrors of the night influencing his most damning decision. Red clashing with purple, with blue. Red, blue, purple, blue, red, purple— A head rolls. The cackling stops.

For a moment, Peace.

A bond, frail at the edges but oh so resilient, crafted amidst blaster fire and silly nicknames and bets made on the battlefield, breaks—

Anakin screams.

•

On Mandalore the last chess piece falls with a Padawans last sacrifice.

First, Maul taunts. Maul laughs. Maul feeds on rage, on grief and hurt and terror, terror, terror. He's stronger here. Less controlled too, but while his greed costs him his head, his strength costs Obi-Wan the centerpiece of his lineage.

Obi-Wan holds his daughter as she bleeds out in his arms. His shoulders shake but he does not cry. His eyes burn but he does not weep. His lips twitch but he does not sob. He holds Ahsoka much the same way he held Satine only months before.

“No, not you too.”

Something flickers inside his mind, once, twice. It grows ever dimmer and Ahsoka's grip on his shoulder, ever weaker. A feeble voice inside his mind, It's okay. It doesn't hurt. I'll be okay, Master.

But this time no reassurance, no hand to his cheek, no last confession, nothing, will temper the anger slowly rising in tandem with his grief. He needs a medic. He needs a medic, now. Where's —

Cody!

Obi-Wan doesn't like the expression on the face of his slowly approaching Commander. The furrow of his brow, the emotion in his eyes. He doesn't like that Cody has taken off his helmet and reaches out to hold Obi-Wan by his shoulder as if he knows Obi-Wan needs the physical support, as if Ahsoka is going to —

“Master—”

Obi-Wan turns his eyes back on his Grandpadawan. Hers are barely open, her lips smeared with blood. Obi-Wans eyes catch on the red trailing down her chin and the length of her throat.

Ahsoka catches his eyes and smiles. She tugs on their bond the way she had always done before a battle, up until her last assignment on Caito Neimodia.

She tugs once, twice, three times. His heart squeezes painfully in his chest. He tugs back three times.

He does cry then. For the life she will never have. For the peace she will never experience. For the war she fought and whose final victory she will never reap. For the girl he learned to love as his own.

And even in her last moment, even in pain, even after Hurt and Miscommunication, and Betrayal born out of insecurity and misjudgment, she still worries for others first. For him.

You're safe. You're all sa—

He shushes her. Tired amusement tingles across their bond.

Then,

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale.

You are forgiven, Obi-Wan.

Exhale. The light winks out and as their bond shatters his last remaining one pulls tight with white hot agony.

Cody is all that keeps Obi-Wan upright right then and there.

•

The war is over. They won. So many dead. His lineage torn asunder.

Ahsoka is dead. Anakin won't speak to him. Qui-Gon is dead. Dooku is imprisoned.

Here the river of time finds a stream parallel to the one we know.

Obi-Wan and Yoda at the end of things.

[unofficialoxtimeline]

What happened to Barnaby's coats?

Dead Man's Debt: thrown out a window by Edvard

Ironhook's Bounty: destroyed by water when Barnaby and Lilith parachute into Volisport Harbor

The Dreadful Dimmer Sisters: used by Rosie and Josie to wrap the ransom demand

First Flight of the Sparrowhawk: splashed with leviathan distillate whereupon it caught on fire

The Big Score: torn on a protruding nail in the Dimmer Mansion

The Marriage of Lady Fyengeh: left with Emeline Morelon when escaping the opera house

The Death of Cornelius Bagshot: ripped at the sleeves in order to be used as a disguise by Kasimir

To the Depths!: soaked with river water when the diving bell tilted

Magic, Ghosts, Danger, and Death: splattered with gore when Eleanor shoots Roth

Shockingly, Barnaby made it through Into the Deathlands and Fate of the Dimmer Sisters without losing a coat, but he did have to wear little Dracula sunglasses throughout the latter. Swings and roundabouts.

[abyssmalice]

Profile - re. mobile / the Speaker ;

Name: "Freyja" (The Lady)

Real Name: Tonia Agapova

Age: ??? (21+ physically ; ∞ in reality)

Species: Human(???) / Irminsul-Human Immortal

Vision: None / Cryo / ???

Weapon: Catalyst / Spear

Constellation: Somniator (The Dreamer)

Affiliation: The Irminsul

Epithets: Memory of the Leylines / Speaker of the Leylines / God of Hearts

FC: Zero (primary); Karina Leopold (primary); Kanoyeel.kkll.Preciel (secondary)

Appearance:

Appears as a young woman in her early twenties with long brown hair, some of which is tied into a pair of braids on each side of her head. Leyline flowers are weaved into the braids, matching the simple white dress she wears. Tends to wear a black cloak decorated with star patterns and fur trims with a heavy hood that easily obscures her features.

If said hood gets knocked off, they’d get a quick peek of a freckled face, a single sky-blue eye - and where there should be a second eye, a leyline flower grows from the socket, large enough to hide the fact that she’s missing an eye there at all.

Personality:

A delicate existence. Her presence is soft and quiet, while her distant smiles nonetheless radiate the faint warmth of sunbeams coating fresh snow. But the moment she is thrust into the need to fight or struggle, her gentleness becomes the mercy of death and her warmth into the spilling of blood. In that way, she is the same no matter what the situation is - the only difference is if she’s smiling or not. For there is nothing to be happy about in the aftermath of a slaughter.

Yes. She will avoid conflict no matter the cost. For what has her greatest struggle against the destinies of the gods brought her except misery and an eternal exile into the land without time? She will give her kindness and her wisdom and her smiles to any who ask - but the moment she must give her heart in any amount or form, that is the end of it.

(And yet. And yet. Her heart is burning. And the leylines remember all that has ever happened. How could she forget it - the devastation, the numbness, the grief? But what can one person do against the gods—)

Biography

Once upon a time, Teyvat was brought into existence.

But before that genesis, there was another world. Another Teyvat. Much the same as the one that stands in existence now, but - Celestia, it seemed, was very much in the mood to be experimental, in those ancient of ancient times.

The constellations were a little dimmer, scattered, different. People followed different paths, created different futures - and of those destinies, unlike the one we know of now, a boy with the name of a hero did not have a misadventure in a world beneath the earth.

No. His fate would be different. The boy destined to be a hero would gain his dark strength at another time, with the heavens already guiding him and his faith. That would be his divine future, and so, the world was shaped to lay down the road he would inevitably follow.

It just so happened, the day before, that boy’s little sister giggled and said to their mother: “Before Ajax comes home, I’ll go pick some berries to make into a pie for him!”

And so she did.

And so, blind to the webbing of the gods, she stepped down the road her brother was destined for - and fell, fell, fell.

But the story, unexpectedly, does not end there. Even though the odds were far more stacked against a defenseless little girl lost in a land of never-ending danger. No, it won’t end there, because she decided, swore, promised on her dying breath to the leylines - it wouldn’t.

(Some things are simply more certain than the fates woven for us by the gods.)

It was just too unfortunate, really - that in her time in the Abyss, the Cryo Archon also declared war on the heavens.

(Some things are simply more certain than the fates woven for us by the gods. But the Tsaritsa was a god herself, and so it went, that there was something more absolute than her attempt to change god-given fate with another god-given fate.)

By the time the poor girl climbed out of hell, the world was falling apart. The land was scorched, the dead piling in millions. Snezhnaya had long since been wiped off any maps that still existed. Soon, Celestia would have to rewrite the slate and build it all anew—if they did not abandon this module altogether for another iteration.

It was too late. It was too late. She was too late so for what did she even try—

“—That’s how it is!” Freyja hums, a small and breathy laugh leaving her. “There was nowhere else to go but back into the Abyss, so that’s what I did. And of course, there was nowhere else to go after that, so I just stayed there. Lonely? Oh, for a little bit. But the leylines actually make great company. They remember everything, after all.”

[zobriezalarys]

𝕯𝖆𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖓   𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖔𝖉   𝖆𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖊   𝖎𝖓   𝖙𝖍𝖊   𝖉𝖎𝖒𝖑𝖞   𝖑𝖎𝖙   𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗.   𝕿𝖍𝖊   𝖆𝖎𝖗   𝖜𝖆𝖘   𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖈𝖐   𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍   𝖙𝖍𝖊   𝖘𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖙   𝖔𝖋   𝖔𝖑𝖉   𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉   𝖆𝖓𝖉   𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖙   𝖘𝖊𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖙𝖘,   𝖆𝖓𝖉   𝖙𝖍𝖊   𝖋𝖑𝖎𝖈𝖐𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌   𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖈𝖍𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙   𝖈𝖆𝖘𝖙   𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌   𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖉𝖔𝖜𝖘   𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙   𝖉𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊𝖉   𝖆𝖈𝖗𝖔𝖘𝖘   𝖙𝖍𝖊   𝖗𝖔𝖔𝖒.   Daemon’s   hand   rested   on   the   hilt   of   Dark   Sister,   the   blade   that   had   tasted   so   much   blood,   yet   now   felt   heavier   than   ever   before.   His   mind   was   a   storm   of   thoughts,   swirling   around   the   prophecy   he   had   learned—one   that   spoke   of   his   death,   and   the   fate   that   awaited   House   Targaryen.Daemon's   gaze   drifted   to   the   high,   arched   windows   of   the   chamber,   where   the   night   sky   loomed   dark   and   foreboding.   The   stars   seemed   dimmer   now,   as   if   they   too   sensed   the   weight   of   his   thoughts.  

The   prophecy   spoke   of   dragons   and   darkness,   of   fire   that   would   consume   the   world   if   the   right   steps   were   not   taken.   And   somewhere   in   those   visions   of   the   future,   his   own   death   was   foretold—a   death   that   would   come   not   in   glory,   but   in   shadow.He   did   not   fear   death;   he   never   had.   But   the   thought   of   dying   without   fulfilling   his   purpose,   without   securing   the   legacy   of   his   house,   gnawed   at   him.  

For   the   first   time   in   his   life,   Daemon   felt   truly   small,   a   pawn   in   a   game   played   by   gods   and   kings.So   deep   was   he   in   these   dark   musings   that   he   did   not   hear   the   soft   footsteps   behind   him,   nor   the   quiet   creak   of   the   door   as   it   opened.   He   turned   sharply,   hand   instinctively   tightening   on   Dark   Sister,   eyes   narrowing   as   they   adjusted   to   the   figure   who   had   dared   to   intrude   upon   his   solitude.

[randomthunk]

BARNABY WITH GLASSES IS CANON

NAILED IT

[a-casual-egg]

Im still reeling over the end of the Fate of The Dimmer Sisters but here's a him

[oxventure-text-posts]

This is directly related to the ending of The Fate of The Dimmer Sisters

[thesurielknows]

Cousins- 4

The trio sat on a couch, looking at their feet as five furious parents prowled and glared in front of them. Lucien was closest, sitting in chair near where Aether sat, his hands clasped together, his arms on his knees, talking quietly but fiercely to her only. Elain sat on the arm of his chair, ever the lady, listening to what he said and making mental notes to add later.

Feyre stood, coolly leaning against the fireplace of the study. She had her arms crossed and her gaze fixed on Nyx. The way that he winced told Erie he was getting a mental tongue lashing that would continue until the High Lord got here.

Erie knew none of them were in worse trouble than her. And she knew it because both of her parents stood silent and together, arms crossed, facing her down. They were waiting, she realized, to unleash judgement. Her father would wait to hear what his brother had to say before unleashing. Her mother, well, there were sometimes that Ereba couldn’t tell what was going to happen with her mother. There was a familiar fire in her eyes, though, and Erie determined that her fate must already be sealed.

Both too slow and too fast for the trio’s liking, Rhys strode into the room, his hands in his pockets. He brought a cool breeze in with him, and Nyx could’ve sworn the lights got dimmer.

“Well, Aether,” he said, cool as can be, “Must’ve been some necklace for you to risk our alliance with our closest ally. I’m sure it must be, in order for our three talented, foolish children to risk two separate courts having their ties severed with Dawn.”

Nyx flinched beside Erie. She didn’t dare lean to see Aether’s reaction. She knew she’d be the one to speak first, “How did you guys know-“

“Please,” Elain said, tired, “Aether is a Seer because I am. I knew the moment you two touched down. Didn’t you think it was odd that your uncle or I didn’t greet you?”

Erie cursed silently. Her mother stepped forward and, though she was 20, she wanted to cry like a child. “I didn’t need to be a seer to know you were up to something,” her voice was level, “It was written all over your face you three were up to your usual trouble.” Erie knew better than to respond.

“It seems,” Rhys began, “that we have given you three too much free time.”

“That changes now,” it was the first thing Feyre had said out loud. Erie had always admired her aunt. She was always intimidating, but kept her wolf beneath her skin. Other courts may have sneered at the High Lady when she wasn’t around, but in her starlight, they dimmed and stared. That was her aunt and uncle. The Darkest Night and his Brightest Star.

She dared not to look at her parents. Matching generals. A united front of calculated judgement. She knew by the way her father’s jaw clenched that he was ready to rage, but he kept it back. Out of respect for Rhys, she figured, and love for her. Though she knew of his nature and how people saw him, her father had always been gentle with her. Wiping her tears when she got hurt in training, whispering jokes to her in boring meetings.

Her mother was the same, though she was who Erie was more afraid of in times like this. Nesta had a wolf under skin like her sister, and the tough mother standing before had a look, that though it was to tell Erie she was in trouble, also said what Erie knew too, “There’s a wolf under your skin too, and you got it from me.” No one understood Ereba quite like her mother, and Erie wondered if she understood her mother better than anyone else too.

“Of course,” Rhys continued slowly, “Lucien is a High Lord and will have his own punishment for his daughter. Her punishment isn’t the Night Court’s responsibility.”

“No,” Lucien agreed, “but I agree that she’s had too much time on her hands.”

“And that’s going to change now,” Elain continued his thought.

Rhys nodded in agreement and turned his attention to the two Night cousins. “Ereba,” She cringed at her full name. Uncle Rhys only called her that when he was upset with her, “Your parents have chosen your punishment. As your High Lord, you know I can’t let you get off without something for this, but I let Nesta and Cass decide what exactly that is.” She wished he’d have handled it instead.

“As for Nyx,” Feyre said, and Rhys turned his attention to his mate, “We’re devising a schedule for you as we speak. You won’t be out of the sight of your father and I for a while yet.”

“How long?” Nyx demanded and Rhys shot him an angry look.

“Maybe a century,” Rhys spat back, “You’ve jeopardized our closest ally, besides your uncle, and potentially alienated Dawn from the Celestial courts. You’re lucky your mother got there first. This was foolish and irresponsible.” Erie turned her attention back to her own parents, avoiding looking at her uncle. “Your work was sloppy and your ward breaking was obvious on top of everything. We’re going to have extensive training to solve that. Every afternoon.”

Nyx didn’t dare groan in protest.

“When you’re not with me, in meetings or training, you’ll be with your mother. Charity and lessons.” Nyx wasn’t sure what lessons meant, but he couldn’t hope not to be exhausted by the end of the day. Likely, he’d be active until he felt like curling in bed and passing out.

Erie was hoping that she’d be forgotten, but she knew with the twin looks from her parents, she wouldn’t be. “You, young lady,” her father started, his voice clearly restrained. She glanced down at his arm, where a Siphon was glowing. He was more upset than she’d feared, “Are going to Windhaven,” he continued.

Erie wanted to collapse back into the couch. “Your mother and I will be going with you. We’ll oversee your training and ensure you have plenty to do.” She knew what that meant. Likely, she’d train as a Valkyrie in the mornings and an Illyrian in the afternoons. She’d be one big bruise when she came back.

“We’ll be staying at the family cabin, and the only visitors you’ll be having will be when your aunts and uncles decide to come,” Nesta told her, “And Uncle Az will be coming every week to take over your training for a day.”

She gulped.

“If there’s nothing else you three want to add,” Rhys dared them to, “We’ll be done.”

And that was it. Their fates were sealed.

[oxventurequotes]

keleanor: you may be the last two remaining hobby horses

lilith: NO!!!

barnaby: well if it's gonna be any of us, i'm glad its me

[agalaxycloserthanyouthink]

Heart

Tree stood before their namesake, a hulking oak that stretched high beyond the forest canopy. Hand pressed to rough bark, they breathed sap-sweet air. Their torso swayed with the afternoon breeze, feet planted like roots. Mustering their voice, Tree asked the oak - as politely as possible - to open.

The bark peeled away like fraying curtains, unfolding layer by layer until Tree was bathed in light. Stifling a gasp, they closed their eyes against the brightness. But the shape of it was burned into the backs of their eyelids.

Once the light had dimmed a little, Tree opened their eyes a crack. And then flung them wide.

A glowing orb pulsated at the oak’s heart, beckoning. Tree slowly raised their hand and touched a gentle finger to the radiant sphere. A split second later, it had fallen into their hand, somehow the perfect size for their palm.

They had waited so long for this day. Worked towards it, hoped for it. Now that they clasped the orb in their own fingers, for the first time they were unsure.

A high voice nipped at Tree’s ears, the spontaneous song little more than a whisper. A wordless melody that bled with hope. Tree remembered why they had come.

Bowing, they thanked the oak for its gift. “This means more to me than you can know.” The high voice returned with a single phrase that seemed full of warmth, then the bark slowly draped itself back across the gaping trunk.

The orb grew gradually dimmer the further Tree took it from the heart of the forest. But it would be enough. It had to be. This determination hurried their legs to reach the edge of the trees, where they stopped to catch their breath. Taking lungfuls, they steeled themself. This would only work once.

Holding the glowing sphere with both palms, they whispered words their grandmother had taught them when they should have been too young to remember. Words no one had uttered since that fateful morning.

I am the tree. I follow the heart. I journey the roots.

Tree tingled as the orb burst with light, which spread along their limbs. Encased in blinding brightness, they took a deep unsteady breath before -

Sudden darkness. Throbbing temples. Wincing rib cage.

“Tree?!”

They opened their eyes and she was there. Blonde curls pulled back from a round, concerned face. Their sister, taller and more lanky since they last saw her. But she could never be anything except herself.

The orb fell from Tree’s hands, pulsing only faintly. They would have to return it to the ancient oak another day.

Their sister grinned through tears as she pulled them upright. “Welcome home,” she whispered.

[unofficialoxtimeline]

What's with the Barricade?

Here is a brief-ish rundown of what we do and don't know about the Barricade, with some of my thoughts on it. And by some, I mean a lot.

The Barricade, synthesizing what we gather throughout the series, is a device that holds a separation between magic and ghostly energy. The tension between those two forces produces oscillotronic energy. In effect, it is a massive generator that uses ghost energy for fuel. It is not a perpetual motion machine; it destroys ghosts (Magic, Ghosts, Danger, and Death).

We know that it must work on the ghost energy and not magic, because the Volisport ghost field is described in the same way, as keeping ghosts at bay and creating energy from them. The other ghost fields are not able to use magical energy because there is simply no magical energy to use.

Erasmus Astor discovered the Gap and built the Barricade (Fate of the Dimmer Sisters). Monty Fortescue directly states that the purpose of the Barricade was to stop the exchange of ghosts and magic, end the tyranny of magic users, and to exploit ghost energy for humanity's gain (The Horrors of Castle Wisenshire). This appears to be the party line; Amadeus Astor doesn't repeat this, but alludes to it (Magic, Ghosts, Danger, and Death). This is not what Kellie Dimmer says; she says the Barricade was built essentially because of its limitless potential (Fate of the Dimmer Sisters). Whatever the purpose was, when the Barricade was turned on, it caused the Cataclysm, and the Brighteners gave out the story that there was a natural disaster, which is still widely believed (The Big Score, Fate of the Dimmer Sisters).

Please note that it is a totally reasonable thing for people to disagree 500 years later in a mostly-hereditary secret society where writing all your information down like an idiot would definitely bring about your downfall (To the Depths!, The Horrors of Castle Wisenshire).

The biggest question is: How would the Brighteners know about ghost energy, and did they know what would happen with the removal of magic?

I think the answer to the first question is that the Brighteners, an already existing society, learned about it when Erasmus Astor discovered the Gap. Because the Gap is where the exchange of magic and ghosts happens, it's entirely possible it has oscillotronic activity, and we have every reason to believe that oscillotronic energy is wireless.

My supposition is that they didn't know about the catastrophic results of the removal of magic but are now trying to style it out. The Cataclysm has to have been immediate and fast if not instantaneous. We know this is true, because the area around Volisport isn't a desert. I'll save the ecology lesson, but the evidence suggests (Into the Deathlands) that it is a blighted wasteland, not the result of desertification. Just trust me on this.

It's likely that Erasmus set up the ghost fields first, then triggered the Barricade. There are two reasons for this. One, the ghost field at the Barricade runs on a power plant that apparently isn't hooked up to the Barricade, despite the fact that it's a massive generator. The power plant emits superheated, poisonous gas, a thing no oscillotronic device is ever described as doing. Two, Volisport was not destroyed during the Cataclysm (The Orbpocalypse Saga). My supposition is that the ghost field power plant is or was originally a steam power plant. We know that steam power exists, and that it's used for applications outside the ghost field (Dead Man's Debt).

(This does open the question as to why the ghost fields were erected if the Cataclysm wasn't expected, but I think there are a number of potential answers: they knew something would happen, they thought they would all start generating power once the Barricade was powered up and the protection effect was unintentional, et cetera.)

I think that the Barricade IS Alcataz. The Barricade diagram Edvard finds in the wreckage of Amadeus Astor's office is for an octagonal structure that is at least seven stories high (To the Depths!). The prison of Alcataz, built by the Astors, is a series of stacked rings that is at least fourteen stories and has a control room at its base with a magical power supply (Epic Jail).

I also suspect that the Brighteners didn't actually know a lot about magic. They are the Brightstone Society for Analytical Alchemistry, not a magic guild. Astor's two great fortresses use a magical artifact and a magical field, but crucially, in Alcataz, the magic is not integral to the design. It slots in to create power, and when the Orb key is taken out, the prison just becomes inert, as opposed to crumbling to its foundations.

I think that ultimately, the balance of the evidence suggests that the Brighteners are a group of anti-magic alchemist oligarchs who existed before Erasmus found the Gap. I don't think they knew what would happen when they stoppered magic up. I think they knew that other people wouldn't have access to magic, but that was a feature, not a bug. I think that they had advanced technology and hereditary wealth that allowed them to step in and rule after the Cataclysm.

This is what I think happened, and just go with me on this:

Vocatus was imprisoned in the Orb

An Orb key fell into the Astors' hands and they used it to power Alcataz

Alcataz failed after the Oxventurer's Guild stole the shard

Disgraced, the Astors turned away from magic and diverted into steam power while they searched for a new free energy source

Erasmus Astor discovered the Gap, which had an oscillotronic field

The Brighteners used steam power to establish the ghost fields while Erasmus built the Barricade

The Barricade was turned on and triggered the Cataclysm

The Brighteners rode it out and Erasmus returned to Volisport to build the rail network, reconnecting Geth

And I do not want to talk about the Emperor even a little bit.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Hike-Story

So...I’ve been on a hike today with friends and I’ve been told a lovely local legend of my country and region. I’ve decided to put it into a short story with Thorin.

It’s a sort of prequel to all the amazing stories some authors write about Thorin and OCs while already under the Mountain... Please feel free to reblog and further the local saga of Oberschlinden 😊

So...here goes...

Black

Prologue

In a valley hidden within a dark forest, there were once two villages, very different from one another and yet doomed to suffer the same fate.

The first village was prosperous and industrious and its inhabitants knew much success in their bountiful endeavours, whereas the second village was merry and joyous, filled with music and celebrations all year round.

One day, a weary gleeman came this way and asked to be lodged and fed in exchange for a tune, but the upstanding villagers turned him away for they were much afeared that he had come to rob them of their wealth and goods. “We have no need for your futile, frivolous shenanigans.” They claimed and forbade him to set foot into their town.

Understanding what they were really afraid of, the man replied: “So be it, I should not have taken a single coin that had not been given to me freely. For your callous ignominy, I shall leave you something instead.” 

And with these words, he turned around and headed to the other village across the valley.

Here, he was welcomed with open arms. He was fed and housed and after having regained his strength, he went on his merry way again to entertain and amuse other villages. The villagers were much aggrieved about his departure as they had greatly enjoyed his contribution to their daily merriment. They let him leave with their best wishes, nonetheless, for they were an indolent people, unable and unwilling to defend their interests with any kind of forcefulness.

A shadow fell over the valley. A dark sickness befell the first village and rapidly spread across the valley to the other one that had taken no precautions to keep the grim reaper out. Too busy had they been celebrating life and the sinking sun to pay any heed to the pestilence creeping their way.

This is how the first village learned that one who is too afraid to lose what he cannot keep, might well be given what he cannot get rid of, and the second village understood that evil spread faster than fell the night and crept, insidious, into every crack if not actively opposed. Like moss covering the immobile stone, the plague washed over the villages and left none but two women standing.

One of those women would rail and wail all day long, lamenting the loss of her glorious life and of her dear family, until madness took her and she returned to her empty house to wait for death to be her last visitor.

The other one, however, took it upon herself to do penance for the sins of her valley and all its ghostly inhabitants that were heard in the moaning of the wind and the gurgling of the brook.

This is her story. 

The sun was low in the sky already when she was startled by the sound of footsteps behind her, making her look up in amazement.

“Good day, good woman, I am a blacksmith and I am looking for the prosperous village hidden in this valley. I am on my way back to my people and I am willing to work in exchange for food and lodging. May you point out the way to me, please?” A gruff voice resounded and a man stepped out of the shadow of the dense foliage.

He was short and stout, unlike any other man she had ever seen in her life, and she was so surprised by his appearance that it took a moment for her to react to his words.

“Good day, Master Dwarf,” she replied courteously, for she now saw that this was what he was, “I am sorry to confess that this village no longer exists. Neither does its sister. I am the last living soul in these parts.” 

He looked much alarmed at her words. 

“Moreover, there is a sickness lying over the valley. It is not advisable to traverse it.” She went on, getting up from her kneeling position at the foot of the little chapel. “Master Dwarf, I live at the other side of this cursed valley, it is a two-hour walk and the light is failing. I offer you my guidance around the affected area and my hospitality.” She spoke, bowing her head deferentially.

The dwarf seemed to ponder her words for a moment, then nodded. 

“Step where I step; the path is treacherous and night shall be upon us soon.” She warned and set out.

Every day, she made her way along the rocky outcrops and the stony ledges, through the dense foliage of the underbrush and the silent desert of trees, to circle the whole valley and pray for hours at the foot of the small chapel for the souls of those who had fallen prey to sickness, stubbornness and wicked ignorance. 

Along the way, she collected herbs and mushrooms to sustain herself and produce ointments and potions she sold once a month in the next village, just beyond the valley. 

She led a lonely life, but she was unerring in her penance. Those two villages that had been mother and father to her for most of her adult life had done wrong and had been smitten for it by the hand of God. There was nobody left to ask for forgiveness, but her. 

“Dwarves have steady steps and exceptional eyesight, even in the darkness. Worry not for me.” The man, for she could not call him anything else than that, answered. 

He was well-grown, like an oak, strong and sturdy; he seemed tired though and she vowed that she would not commit the same mistake her forefathers and elders had made; she would be a gracious host. Indeed, she would salve the burns on his bare arms and give him the best parts of whatever she would find in her traps along her daily trek. 

“Have you no kin, woman?” He asked after they had mounted a steep rocky ledge leading them through dense undergrowth from which she would extract berries and healing herbs to stow away in the satchels she carried on her back.

“I have no kin, Master Dwarf.” She shrugged, extending her hand to him when they came to a brook. The stones were slippery and wont to shift beneath the unfamiliar foot.

He just chuckled, a sound reminiscent of the big rockslide that had occurred a few months ago, and leapt easily enough across the narrow expanse of wet pebbles. 

For a creature looking this heavy, he was surprisingly agile, she thought. She knew nothing about dwarves of course. In her nan’s tales, there had been mentions of those mysterious man-like beings who lived under mountains and in golden halls, but she had imagined them smaller and less…beautiful than what she saw in front of her. 

As a matter of fact, she could not remember ever having seen a man quite as enchanting as the one following her swift steps effortlessly. There were beads in his hair that shimmered in the dying light and his eyes were the colour of the great river rushing through the valley; indeed, he was the closest she had ever come to a genuine fairy tale. 

“What happened here?” He inquired, as they reached the highest ledge and looked down on the villages, already plunged in deep shadows and obviously deserted.

“A plague broke out and took every living soul. It is said that it was the refusal of hospitality by this village,” she pointed to one cluster of houses, “and the lack of zeal or backbone of that one,” she pointed to the opposite side of the valley, “that led to their doom.” 

She had been there, she had seen the people who had been her friends and family die a miserable, painful death and she had waited for the blight to fall upon her as well. It had never come and now, she was the watcher of the dead valley; in a world of ghosts, there was none who felt less alive than her, walking along the deserted ruins of her existence day after day. 

“Thank you for warning me.” He had a good voice, she thought, low and kind. It was a miracle to stumble upon another living being, but his voice and the empathy in his eyes felt like a caress upon her bruised soul. 

“It is my duty, Master Dwarf. I shall stand in harm’s way as long as I can.” 

“My name is Thorin.” He declared in an almost questioning voice. He had been reticent to divulge his name, she realised and turned around to bow deeply. 

“Come along, Master Thorin. The light is fading fast now.” She urged him on, almost running along the rocky paths, her feet sending up sprays of pebbles in her wake.

They walked on tirelessly for a long time, until they reached a fallen tree stump that had not been there when she had come this way earlier in the day.

Clambering over the dead wood swiftly, Thorin extended his arms, in turn, to her. She stepped closer and uttered a small cry of astonishment when he simply lifted her over the obstacle as if she weighed nothing at all. “Thank you, Master Thorin.” She bowed again.

He smelled like the pines that grew beyond the valley, she noticed, and like life. Everything about him was painfully alive: the vivid intelligence of his eyes, the small smirk he gave her on account of her breathless incredulity, and the warmth of his hands on her ribs that left a palpable impression.

As she walked on, nearing the point where the path would dip drastically and the danger doubled, she came to accept that she would cherish this encounter until the end of her days.

Maybe God had heard her prayers and granted her the small solace of seeing another soul, of speaking to someone who actually answered and of feeling living flesh upon her own once more. 

She extricated a small rabbit from the trap she had laid on the highest crest and pushed it down into her satchel as well, gesturing to the silent valley with a sense of pride.

“This is home. And there’s my hut.” She pointed to a small wooden house at the far end of the valley, nestled between two tiny hills and reflecting the last rays of sun. 

The light was growing dimmer now and the way down was treacherous even in broad daylight. “Permit me, Mistress.” He gave her a mocking smile and took her hand. 

It felt huge and calloused, but its roughness comforted her. She had lived in this rocky wilderness for years now and the feeling of warm stones would always be synonymous with home to her. 

To her shame and despair, she tottered several times on their way down and when Thorin slung his arm around her waist and steadied her, she did not object.

Finally, they reached the little plateau she called her own. 

“Give me your boots.” She asked and when he did, she set them aside to be cleaned afterwards. 

Stoking the fire, she started taking the small rabbit apart and tossing the various leaves and mushrooms she had collected into the pot filled with fresh water. She would deplete her stocks for him; she would not be a bad host like the first villagers. Also, she would mend his socks, tend to his injuries and clean his boots; she would not be a slovenly scallywag like the second villagers either.

“Make yourself at home.” She invited him, giving him the best chair and a blanket she had woven herself in her youth. 

“Are you really all alone?” He asked her, as she sat on the floor, grinding herbs into a paste with devoted focus. “Yes, Master Dwarf.” She smiled, taking his hand and spreading the ointment gingerly on the burns dotting his strong forearms. 

“Do you like being alone?” He pressed on, wincing as the wet unguent made his wounds smart.

“It is my punishment and my expiation.” She replied while stirring the stew she was preparing. 

His eyes settled heavily on her face and she could read sympathy and sadness in those dark, blue lakes shot through with silver. He looked rather like a gem hewn from precious stone himself, she had to admit, feeling drawn to the solidity of his frame and the living warmth of his gaze. 

“Eat, Master Thorin.” She handed him a deep bowl, containing most of the mushrooms and all of the meat she had managed to scrape off the scrawny rabbit.

“What about you?” He asked, suspicious, when she filled a goblet with the fragrant broth. 

“Eat.” She encouraged him again. He had obviously known a long and tiresome road and she wanted him to feel safe and cared for; she was thankful for the chance to do right by him. 

It was a small redemption of her blood to be a good host after the opposite reaction had plunged her people into extinction. 

He looked relaxed now, sitting by the fire, listening to her hum to herself while she cleaned his boots and mended his clothing. “Your gifts are wasted on the dead.” He suddenly said.

“Beg your pardon?” She looked up from polishing his boots, a questioning expression in her eyes. 

“You have been a good host to me, you’re a steady cook and a knowledgeable reader of nature. Come with me.” 

She blinked. She knew not what he was talking about.

“I am, as I said, on my way to rejoin my kin. Come with me, there is nothing here for you but desolation and loneliness. There are people yet alive beyond this valley and they could greatly benefit from your knowledge…and your sweet nature. Come with me! Be my travel companion!” He reiterated when she didn’t reply. 

“I cannot…I am here to…” - “You are here to wait for the next weary traveller and right the wrong inflicted by and upon your people. Consider it done, Mahal has heard you child, I am Thorin, and I shall be King under the Mountain one day. I might be here to deliver you and take you away from this place.” He interrupted her harshly. 

A king, she thought, a future king. What prevented him from being king now?

“It is a hard life amongst my people; there will be deprivation and long, cold nights.” He warned her, but she simply motioned to the small hut they sat in while the wind howled with furious intensity outside. 

“But…it is a life. I offer you a life, not an easy one, not a pretty one necessarily, but a life. Be the watcher of the living, be the minder of the sick, be the guide of the hale-bodied; leave behind your dead and let them find their peace. Come with me!” 

She thought about it for a moment, then nodded. He was right; he might have been the sign she had been waiting for all these years. 

Epilogue:

The last survivor of the great plague that had ravaged the valley and left it inhabited forevermore was never seen again. People say, she just vanished at some point. Some hold the belief that she has been carried away by fairies and others claim that on windy nights, one could see her walk along the stony ledges on her eternal way to the abandoned chapel. 

We shall never know for sure what really happened to that sole survivor, but her name disappeared from the ledgers, never to be mentioned again in the books of men. 

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

From: Cace, Jae, and Calum

Cace and Calum meet at a Christmas and for being in their mid to late twenties that’s feels right. But things change when a baby gets involved and Calum just wants his best friend to enjoy her time, especially at the holidays. 

Female OC. Uncle Cal. Baby fluff. Enjoy! 

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Calum giggles mostly to himself, his index finger wrapped up in the fist of his nephew laying on his lap. Well, he’s not technically his nephew by blood but the bond is still all the same. Calum never misses an opportunity to show off his picture to anyone that will give him the change too. Jae looks so much like Cace it’s insane but he gets it now, all the comments he and his sister used to get, and even now. Calum met Cace only two years ago while at a Christmas party thrown by someone that he can’t remember. They found each other by fate, as Cace liked to say. 

Calum had been nursing his one drink for only half an hour before flipping the switch, rather than sulking, he was going to enjoy himself. Nothing too far, or too crazy but Calum knew he was definitely going to need a ride back home and he was going to enjoy the night. And it was in that, going back for another drink that Calum tripped. Nearly face planted with someone caught him with a laugh. “Let me guess, you’re not normally this much of a klutz.”

 He laughed in return, still holding onto the girls forearms. “Give or take.” His balance returned soon, but his hold never fell away. He wasn’t sure if he had seen her around before, outside of the party. She looked so familiar. But in the drunken cloud taken over his brain he couldn’t answer his own curiosities. 

“Cace,” she states. 

“Calum.”

“And you might want a water at least one before going for whatever else tickles your fancy on this spread.” She guided him towards the drinks and snacks and quickly tossed him a bottle of water. “Drink up, buttercup.”

“Thanks,” Calum said, watching her turn to head back to the depths of the dance floor. “Hey, Cace,” he called out. When she turned, eyebrow raised and head cocked to the side, Calum had a shot prepared, raising up into the air. “Oh, don’t make a man drink alone.”

 Cace walked back over with a grin on her face. “You know it’s bad luck to cheers with water right?”

Calum’s sly grin never wavered and he pulls up a second shot prepared. “Just give me two minutes to finish this water and no bad luck for us.”

And that brought them to grabbing lunch on Cace’s breaks--while she’s no singer, she does know her way around a contract--hanging in studios, the two of them taking day trips to get away from the noise of the city. Calum would ask for advice and Cace, being a year and a half older, happily gives it. But for all the advice she can give, Cace’s track record in the dating department wouldn’t ever show for it. 

Jae kicks a little but a grin lights up his face. Calum laughs, stroking a finger along his cheek. “Hey, hey, what’s got you all giggly?” Calum’s voice is soft. The couch dips just a little next to him and Calum looks over to Cace. 

Her smile is soft but still clearly holds the exhaustion that she hasn’t been able to shake yet. “How long have I been out?”

Calum keeps a hand on Jae’s tummy before sliding back into the cushions. “Not long enough. You’re off Mum duty. Remember. Uncle Cal and Nephew Jae taking the world by storm--no mum’s allowed.”

Cace scoffs, pushing up to to glance at the clock on the wall. “By the looks of it, it’s been an hour and a half and you haven’t left my house.”

Giving Jae’s tummy a rub, Calum tries to hide his smile. “Little booger here preoccupied me.”

“Oh just admit it, he’s too stinking cute.” Cace stares down at her son, watches the way he giggles and coos at the tickle of Calum’s fingers. “Like really stinkin’ cute,” she states in a whisper. For the moment she tried not to think too much about how she could kill the son of a bitch that got her pregnant only to bolt--though Cace wasn’t sure she’d call it bolting. He had a line of women and as Cace steadily refused to give up her baby, he went onto the next. 

“I know that murdery look in your eyes. You’re exhausted. That guy’s a dick. But you have a happy and extremely healthy baby boy. Take the day, Cace. You deserve it.”

Cace sits up, folding her feet under her. “I love my son. I just wish he wouldn’t have any pain.”

“Jae’s got Uncle Cal, and Uncle Ashton, and Uncle Michael, and Uncle Luke. We’re all he’s going to need--you’ll be there for his first crush and we’ll beat up bullies.”

Cace laughs, hand rubbing gently over Jae’s head as Calum rests Jaue against his chest. “I’ll be there to beat up bullies too.” 

“I did say we,” Calum grins, the twinkling lights of her decor. Her living room’s already been decorated. He helped last weekend with that and even helped her put a tree. “You know what you need?”

“You already told me it was sleep.”

“In addition to sleep,” Calum starts. The tree’s beautiful. Cace always makes sure of that for Christmas. “You need Christmas photos in cheesy matching outfits with your baby boy and we’ll send them out to your family and make really bad Christmas ornaments and we’ll stamp Jae’s little hand on one and you’re going to enjoy this holiday season with your son and your best friend.”

“Do you remember the Christmas party we met at?” 

Calum nods. “Of course I do. And this year will be the absolute opposite of that, but it’ll be good for you, Cace.”

There’s a moment silence. Cace studying the feature of Calum’s face and Calum studying the features of her. She notices the worry on his face, the way it pulls down his lips and makes his eyes dimmer. He notices the bags, but a certain bright spot in her eyes. “Alright, you’ve convinced me. Homemade Christmas ornaments and cheesy photos. I’ll go get dressed.”

“No, no, you stay home. Rest up. I’ll go out and get what we need. Jae can tag along. He gets a vote in the really cringe onesie I buy him.”

“Cal, c’mon. Jae gets fussy sometimes and in a mood. I don’t want you have to tackle that all on your own.”

“Cace, let me do that. For you. Just one day. I know Jae, when he gets fussy I check diaper first, try the bottle second, and if that doesn’t work. you taught me the swaddle. We’ll take five and I’ll make him a cozy bean wrapped in his mum’s smelling blanket,” Calum punctuates the part by tugging on the blanket Cace snuggled up with in her sleep, which admittedly she might be just a tad too big for, “and he’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”

Pushing to her knees, Cace holds Calum’s cheek in one hand. Calum didn’t have to step in. Surely, there were better things to do than go with Cace to appointments and stay home on nights when she knew the guys were out. And he helped put together the nursery. He got the guys to help him too, but Calum would be on the receiving end of 7 am phone calls to fold baby clothes and lift packages into her house when she got too big to bend over or lift anything.

 “You’re more than a girl could ever ask for, you know?”

“Good thing you didn’t ask for me.” 

Cace rolls her eyes. “Yeah, no, I called it fate. But still, I appreciate you. For everything. It means a lot.”

Calum kisses her cheek. “You’re welcome. Now, text me what size you wear and then go back to sleep. Shower first. I can smell you.”

A chuckle escapes Cace’s throat. “That’s-that’s not me, Cal.”

“Oh, Jae, buddy.”

With Jae in a fresh diaper and the diaper backpack Cace keeps packed at all times on his shoulders, Calum straps Jae into the carseat he bought for his own car. Cace told him to just use the one she had, but Calum wanted one in his car, just in case he needed it for emergencies, for Uncle and Nephew days. His phone shakes in his pocket as he connects the last buckle into the middle. “All good? Snug in there?”

Jae’s on the verge of sleep, and Calum knows the ride will lull him right into the deep sleep. Calum responds to his own question. “Yeah, Uncle Cal, I’m snug as hell. Drunk of some milk. But, oh, boy, was it good.”

I wear a XL. Still have baby weight. Who knows if I’ll loose it all. 

A sigh escapes his lips. Cace hasn’t let the baby weight fixation go. She lost some of it, but the last little bit was still holding strong. You know XL just means extra love, right?

What happened to the e then?

Xtra Love. It’s cool guy spelling. You look great. You had a baby. Give yourself some kindness.

Cool guy spelling for Cool guy Cal.

Yeah, something like that. It doesn’t shock Calum that she doesn’t respond to the other parts of his text. 

Calum makes his first venture to the craft store. It’s the furtherest stop on the agenda today, so he heads there first. Jae sleeps the majority of that stop, even with all Calum’s wondering up and down aisle he doesn’t seem bothered. Calum gathers some popsicle sticks, glue, felt, glitter, various body safe paints, string, ribbon, and everything else he can think of. He knows it’s going to be a mess, but what’s Christmas without a little bit of a glitter bomb. 

Jae sings, or as close to singing, from the backseat as the radio plays. At a red light, Calum glances back. “Huh, that was a nice nap you got in. Let’s hope your mum got the same.” 

Calum knows by the parking lot this store is going to be a bit crowded and noisy. But it’s the first one he could think off that would family matching onesies. Calum figures instead of the stroller he’ll strap Jae to his chest. Hopefully that will keep him calmer seeing as the little guy’s still not totally a fan of a lot of noise. He does alright by prolonged exposure makes him just a tiny bit fussy. 

It’s a good sign when Jae looks around, eyes bright. “Oh yeah, lots of new sights around here,” Calum states softly. The store is not as bad as he originally thought. There’s still a lot of people out and about but somehow they don’t seem to be all swarming the shopping floor. He can only imagine what the checkout line looks like, but that’s more of a worry for later--if he even finds the matching onesies. 

The speakers overhead pump Christmas music through the store. Thought Calum wouldn’t call himself big on Christmas, he finds humming along, fingers brushing along the various fabrics as he weaves through the aisles and racks. Calum gets sidetrack on his way to the Christmas displays spying an intriguing button up--it’s black with a dotted pattern. Up close he can see there’s little snowflakes instead of actual circles. 

He shouldn’t get it, but he finds his size and figures he’ll hold onto it and debate whether or not he’s going to give into the impulse buy. Returning back to his assigned course, Calum debates if he’s going to go for the reindeer onesies or if he’s going to go for the ones decorated in various trees. “Your mum’s going to kill me if I show up with reindeer onesies, but you’d be cute. Maybe death ain’t so bad.” 

It takes a few minutes to consider all the options though, checking out what’s available in all the sizes they’d need. Calum catches the tiny whine Jae starts up with and soothing bounces him. “Okay, bud, I got it. I’ll be quick.”

Calum hopes death comes swift as grabs the reindeer onesies. Calum rushes over to the baby section. He knows without a doubt there are Christmas onesies hanging out. And sure enough, with only a two minutes search, Calum is able to grab Jae a matching outfit too and turns for the registers. On his trek, Calum does put back the button up--he doesn’t need it at the time being. 

The line is long. Jae’s settled for the time being, but Calum knows it might not take much to set him off. The cashier’s seem to be working fast so Calum risks it. He steps into line with a deep exhale. The first couple of minutes is goes by without a problem. And he manages to inch up just a little. However, by the time they get halfway through the life, Jae’s earlier whines start back up. 

Softy, Calum shushes him, running his free hand up and down Jae’s back. “It’s okay.” If this doesn’t work, Calum will just abandon the line and hope once Jae’s settle he can find the outfits again. 

 For a minute Jae seems to be settling and the line shuffles up again. However, they seemingly get stuck under/near a speaker hidden in a ceiling tile because the beef between Heat Miser and Snow Miser gets louder and that in turns sets off Jae. A cry spills from his throat. Not ideal, but Calum looks to see how many people are behind him--there’s only a few in front. But the sound of Jae’s cries tells Calum not to push it. 

“I gotcha, I gotcha,” Calum whispers to Jae, turning and shimmying past the people in line. He mutters a few apologies and though, he would normally find the rack to place the clothes back on, Calum doesn’t want to take too long in case this is a diaper change cry. 

“I know loud noises aren’t a favorite of yours, buddy. We’ll get somewhere quieter, promise.” 

Free from the line, Calum shuffles to the bathroom. “Alright, let’s see what’s causing these tears.” It’s partially a diaper change. Though in a clean diaper, Jae doesn’t settle completely. “Hungry?”

It doesn’t hold interest. Calum tries a few other things before just resigning to the fact that it might’ve been sensory overload on Jae’s part. Calum drags Jae’s blanket over his shoulder  and nestles him into it. Holding him close to his chest, Calum slips the backpack back onto his shoulder. “Okay, we can go chill out in the car. Try another store--hopefully less crowded.”

The cries haven’t completely stopped but they have faded. Calum doesn’t even glance over to where he stuck the onesies. They’re not important right now, an always be attained at some other point. Right on the mat that leads out of the store, Calum catches some voice shouting, “Sir!”

He doesn’t stop, assuming it’s someone trying to reach someone else. however, another, “Sir!” fills the air and Calum slows, turning his head. He doesn’t spot anyone at first, well not anyone that he recognizes are seems to be trying to get his attention but on a second pass over the faces, an older woman at the register holds up a bag. 

“Me?” Calum questions, readjusting Jae quickly and tucking him more into his chest and neck. 

The woman waves him over, before quickly turning back to the cashier. Calum steps a step forward, still unsure of what’s happening. He doesn’t know her. He thinks she might’ve been in the line either in front or behind him, but he doesn’t really know at all. 

“Is-is everything okay?” Calum tries to see what’s in the bag and then mentally runs through his mind of what he could’ve dropped in line. All the bags from the craft store are in the truck. His phone and wallet are in his pockets, along with his keys. 

“I should be asking the little one that,” she grins. Calum studies her face. He’d figure forties at the latest, two younger kids at her side. He wishes he did know her, then this would make this last strange. “Double check that these are all that you needed. Two adult onesies and then one for the baby, right?”

Calum’s heart nearly drops to his ass. “Wh-What?”

“Check that it’s all right,” she returns holding out one bag. The two kids hold bags of their own. “I don’t know if you were getting anything else, all I saw you put back were the onesies.”

“I-I can’t.” Jae wriggles in his arms and Calum sighs for a moment before bouncing him gently. “You really didn’t have to.”

“Well, now, I don’t have to do anything, you’re right. But I wanted too. I’ve been down this road. And the fact that you put your son above all, besides, it’s Christmas.”

Calum doesn’t even think to correct her thoughts on Jae instead he peeks inside the bag to see three outfits and a receipt. “Ma’am, really, I-I don’t know what to say. Thank you. I-I can pay you back.” Calum fumbles for a second to reach his wallet but she stills him with pat on his arm and a smile. 

“No need sweetheart. Take care of that handsome one and enjoy your holidays.” With that, she takes a hand of each of the kids with her and then continues on past. 

Calum watches her, unsure if it’s real or not. Unsure if he’s really living this. Someone, possibly a manager, comes down to the register he’s standing in front of. “Everything okay, sir?”

“I-yeah. Maybe a Christmas miracle?” he exhales facing them. 

It’s another woman with a smile. “She’s a regular here. Does stuff like this all the time.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. The second you got out of line, she was on it trying to get the stuff you put down.” Lined on the front of the registers are a line of gift cards. No good deed should go without something good in return. 

He grabs one quickly. “Can I put 50 on this?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” The question clearly comes as a surprise. Calum knows by now in all his shock he’s not likely to find the woman in the parking lot. As the machine asks him to remove his card, Calum instructors them to use it for the next person in line. 

“You sure?”

He nods. “Yes, I’m very sure. Thank you, for taking me.” He grabs the bag and hurries back through the door. 

“You really bought reindeer onesies?” Cace sighs, peering into the bag. 

Jae sits in a rocker nearby. The moment Calum got him into the car his nerves completely settled and he went back his is normal bubbly self. Calum gulps down a third of the glass of water. “I didn’t buy it. But yes, reindeers.”

“What do you mean you didn’t buy them?”

“The line was long and I got stuck under the speaker in the store. Jae had been getting a tiny fussy beforehand but the music was the tipping point. So I stepped out of line. Just as I got Jae mostly settled, I figured I’d take him out to the car let him completely reset basically before trying again to snag the clothes. A woman in line saw me leave with him and she paid for it. One of the managers or something said she does stuff like that all the time.”

“She what?”

“Yeah, she paid for it while I in the bathroom. I guess the line was moving faster than I thought but I didn’t want to just ignore Jae, so I just made the call to leave line.”

“A Christmas miracle,” Cace returns. 

“Something like that. Did you rest well?”

“I didn’t wake up until you called and said you were on your way. So yes, much needed.” Leaning into the kitchen table, Cace uses her foot to add extra bounce for Jae. “I noticed there’s a second adult onesies in there.”

“Sue me. I wanted in on cheesy photos too.”

“Good thing phone cameras come with timers,” she grins. “Sticking around for arts and crafts too? I gotta feed Jae in another half an hour. Or am I still in Mum jail?”

“I’ll stick around. But you’re still in Mum jail, so that means I make Jae’s ornament--you sip on the non-alcoholic bubbly and gingerbread cookies you bought.”

“I do vote pictures first. Because there’s bound to be a mess.”

“Nah, it’ll be fine.” It can be that much of a mess, especially if Calum doesn’t bother with glitter. 

“You say that now,” she laughs. “But if you think there won’t be a mess, be my guest. I’m going to sip on non-alcoholic bubbly, eat gingerbread cookies, and enjoy this show.” 

Cace pops open the white grape sparkling juice and a fancy wine glass. Her second trip into the kitchen is for the tin of cookies--actually full of cookies--and settles at the kitchen table. She sits opposite of Calum’s ornament crafting setup. And it takes him until Cace has to feed and rather than fussing about with moving to another room, she drapes the privacy blanket over. The amusement is settled in deep on her face as she watches Calum try to sketch out his design. 

“I will say, I’m glad you’re a musician,” she teases. 

“Ya know what, not everyone can have a Dad who’s like a world renowned artist.”

“Tattoo artist, and trust me the drawing gene skipped me.”

Calum scoffs. “Then you’re talking a lot shit for a non-drawing-gene. But that does explain who you got into legal things.”

Her laughter is sharp. “Something like that. Though I think it might be more about me liking raining on some parades. Besides, who else can you call that will scare your team at just a name-drop?”

Calum points the pen cap in her direction with a nod. “I never suspected that you’d shake grown men to their core. But just the casual mention of you and you’d think they’d seen ghosts.”

Cace winks, readjusting the burping blanket. “I have that effect sometimes.”

“Can I burp him?”

“You’ve stolen my son!”

“Oh c’mon, I’m his Godfather.”

“You now Godfather Cal has a certain ring to it.” Cace turns down her mouth into a frown, dropping the octave in her voice, as she hoists Jae onto . “You come into my house on the day of my daughter’s wedding.”

Calum giggles at her impression but doesn’t push on the burping request. “I still prefer Uncle Cal. Easier to say.”

It’s as Calum can only watch the paint splatter onto the page does he immediately regret not taking Cace’s advice and taking photos first. Jae continues to hammer into the paint and thankfully, Cace doesn’t lose her head about messes. But Calum can only imagine what the green paint is going to look like against her yellow walls. 

“Jae, c’mon, work with me,” Calum sighs, lifting his tiny hand and then presses onto the felt. “Your Mum’s going to murder the both of us. But very slowly.”

Cace gasps from the end of the table. “I can hear you you know! I wouldn’t kill either one of you. Just tell you I told you so, repeatedly. Until you’d wish I have of killed you.”

“Just be glad I decided against opening the glitter.”

“Why would you buy glitter, Calum?” 

“I don’t know. I was in a craft store. I blacked out and when I came to, there was glitter in my basket.”Jae watches the exchange and slams a hand with paint onto the table. Calum’s sigh is audible and she watches him deflate in the chair. “It’ll come out I promise.”

“Or it doesn’t and I can forever mark that as the spot that Uncle Cal and Jae DIY’ed Christmas ornaments and when I’m old and nothing but skin and bones, I’ll pass the table onto him for his kids to make arts and crafts on and it becomes a legacy.”

Calum feels the wet hand on his chest through his t-shirt and cringes. Cace continues on. “Or what doesn’t come out is that stain on your shirt and you forever think twice about not listening to me. The pictures will be a story to remember. When my dad ask me why does Jae have a green nose and I tell him before pictures were taken he and Calum made ornaments and I advised ornaments second but Calum wanted to do that first and I scrubbed my son down as best as I could, but you know how green paint is.”

“You are not helping,” Calum whispers. 

“Oh, no, I’m not. But you’re right. I needed Mum jail.” Her raised eyebrow and pointed sip from her glass tells Calum he’s going to be the one cleaning up and only him. 

He doesn’t want her to be right. But even after ornaments are left to dry and he scrubs down Jae there is still a bit of residue, a hint of what color once took up residency on his skin that don’t completely fade reminds Calum to maybe listen to Cace since she’s the one dealing with a baby day in and day out. Though Calum would’ve liked to think he was a pretty good second. He’s there for a lot but there might be some things he hadn’t had to think through just yet on the whole baby front. 

His t-shirt is ruined and the battle of baby vomit vs t-shirts should’ve warned Calum to not wear anything he holds too precious. But clothes are just clothes in the grand scheme of things. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Jae.”

Calum gets him into the onesie and settles him into the rocking seat to see what he can do about the wall. The table made it with very minimal damage and Calum’s sure with another passover the little that does remain will come out. Cace kneels on the floor, a bucket beside her and the sounds of scrub hits his hears. “Hey, Mum jail, remember,” Calum returns. 

“Oh, I couldn’t let you suffer for that long without helping. I’ll probably have to repaint in some points, or I wait until he gets way older and just let whatever mess he creates exist and possibly turn it into some masterpiece.”

“You said the art gene skipped you.”

She laughs. “I did say possibly. As in an option.”

“I can help you repaint next week.”

“Wanna borrow one of my--what did you call it, an ultimate robe?”

“What are you on about?”

“Undershirt. I call them a white beater. You’ve got tons of them. You called it the ultimate robe in an interview once.”

“You said you didn’t watch those.”

“I don't normally. I saw a clip.”

“And you remembered from how long ago?”

Cace shrugs, dipping her rag into the water at her side. “Who knows at this point? You’re lucky I still remember my own name.” 

The thing Calum’s learned about Cace is that’s it’s true. She can hardly ever remember things about herself, but she’s always got it together for those around her. And that’s why he pushed for her to take today--because she needed the time for herself. And even if it’s hard because of a baby he still wants to be the one there for her. He would always have her back. He’d buy cheesy matching onesies and hold bells behind the camera to get Jae to look up and he’d fake pose decorating an already decorated Christmas tree and he’d hoist Jae into his arms and tickle the little boy’s side and he’d take the most unflattering pictures of Cace only to make it up with the most flattering ones right after if it meant that at the end of it all, she knew he had her back. 

Cace reclines into Calum’s side, Jae seated in her lap. The phone’s still counting down but she’s not worried about that. She looks up, watching Calum watching her. “I’m not the camera,” he teases. 

“Nah, but you’re a close second.” 

Calum kisses the top of her head, mostly aware of the shutter of the camera. “I’ll take that. Though I should be number one. Now actually face the camera once I set this up again.”

“No promises,” Cace laughs. Though she does look at the camera the second time. She can faintly see the slightly out of focus string lights on the trees. And inside the square it’s bound to be picturesque. There’s no walls with green paint or t-shirts ruined, or still open can of cookies that she absolutely thought she had covered and put back up. And maybe it’s okay if perfection only exist inside that square. And maybe it’s okay if her house is a mess and she’s a mess, and Calum’s a mess because at least she had the few people that cared around still.

********

Joy hadn’t anticipated seeing Calum’s handwriting on a letter just yet. His card usually came with him in person. But she doesn’t let the curiosity simmer too long and flips over the white envelope to pop the golden sticker holding it close.  A beautiful white, gold and green card greets her, with Merry Christmas on it. 

When she open the card, a couple photos slip down and she can see the black ink with Calum’s telling handwriting. She spies Cace and Jae standing in front of a tree, a decorating dangling in her hand. The second photo is Cace, Calum and Jae seated on the floor, smiling with the twinkling lights fading in the background. There’s a third of Calum and Jae too. All three of them matching with reminders antlers poking out from the hood of their pj’s. 

The typography of the inside of the card is the same as the outside, Season Greetings. But just above it is a note, from Cace, Jae, and Calum. And then just below the standard greeting of the card is more from Calum. 

Hi Mum, 

I know this card normally comes with me attached but I didn’t want to forget to send these pictures. 

I made Cace take a day and partially it was successful. Another part was disastrous. Disaster struck with paint and ornaments but I know you said you wanted more pictures of Jae too. These felt appropriate. He’s getting bigger, like everytime I blink he’s in a new size. I don’t know how Cace does it. How she just watches him everyday and doesn’t worry that time is moving too fast. Maybe she does worry and does her best just to focus on the day at hand. I don’t know how you did it with Mali and me. I’m sure it was the same thing--everyday just us shooting up with almost no end in sight. You’ll be happy to know Cace and Jae are doing well too. She started work again and takes him most days. Some days she drops him off at a daycare. He seems to handle it well for now. Soon, she says she’ll be dropping him off more than half the week at the daycare. So we’ll know for sure how Jae feels about that when that happens. 

Send me some Oz summer. I wasn’t sure I was ready to jump into onesies just yet and even after this pictures, I still don’t think I am. Love you and miss you. 

Calum. 

[randomthunk]

Fate of the Dimmer Sisters basically made glasses!Barnaby canon, and I’m having a good time drawing it.

[fallenrepublick]

OMG okay, I just made this account so I could follow you, like I've been reading all your stuff from a while now, but always from the browser, not the app because I was honestly too lazy to download it... Lol Anyways, your writing is just PERFECTION. 💖 If you are taking requests I would love to see what if Maul just found out he had a kid with you when he always thought you died over a year ago? And now he suddenly reunites with you to find out not only that you're alive, but had a baby. Thx💖

Oh my god?? Thank you so much?? That’s so nice of you goddamn???

Warnings: It’s sorta angsty! Woah shocker amiright... OH and I KNOW that some of you are gonna be on my ass about this but I’m only gonna say this once. I KNOW THAT FEMALE ZABRAKS DON’T HAVE HORNS. I KNOW, OKAY?? I JUST DON’T CARE. Plus, we. have. never. seen. a. hybrid. zabrak. The genes could get fucked if it’s a hybrid, okay WE DON’T KNOW SO I DON’T WANT TO SEE ANY OF YOU LORE DETECTIVES IN MY INBOX GOING “uH aCTuALLy” BECAUSE I DON’T CARE

You. You. You. That was all Maul ever thought about these days. His failure.

Granted, he had certainly failed in many instances before, but never like this. He had conquered this gods-forsaken planet for you. You. And then what? A nameless, faceless assassin dares to come take you from him? And the worst pain of all was that he wasn’t there. He wasn’t with you and you paid the price for it.

Knowing that one should let go of such a thing was much easier said than done, and though the loss had taken place over a year prior, it had no less devastating consequences on Maul’s psyche. People often said that one doesn’t know how much they have until they’ve lost everything, as if losing everything were some sort of punishment for an ungrateful mindset. Never had he been ungrateful for you. For other things, perhaps. But not you. And still, you were gone regardless.

The halls always felt empty, even when they were full, and the city lights seemed dimmer, even if they shone just as brightly as the day before. He rarely went out, and when he did, he kept to himself as always, finished his work, and went on his way. That was just the way it was. Before, you might have tugged at his arm, leading him through the streets, stopping and peering into windows, the warm light from inside reflecting off of your bright eyes. You might have stopped to listen to the lively melodies that sometimes played in the square or leaned over to look into the rippling fountain that stood in the middle still. Perhaps you would stop in the middle of the walk to close your eyes and feel the breeze on your face, the wind brushing your hair behind you, and a content smile resting on your lips. Not on this day, though.

No. This day, he was alone, as he had been for the past 365 days, and that meant his dark hood was pulled over his head, blocking out any light from touching his features. A shadow.

As he travelled, he ignored the commotion around him, the lives and existences of others completely meaningless to him in all respects, the less time he was forced to be among them the better. Though, he couldn’t help but imagine you there, smiling at him, laughing. He had to close his eyes and force his emotions back down when he felt tears threatening to fall.

But the moment of peace didn’t last. Without warning, he felt a pain in his chest, a tightening and almost stabbing sensation that sent him gasping and almost toppling over. Baring his teeth and holding his hand to his hearts, he stopped in his tracks, attempting to will the pain to cease, or at least identify any cause. Never had he sensed anything like this, but the ache was too prominent and forceful to ignore. He had to know.

Tenderly straightening himself back up, he studied the crowd, scanning faces, watching the tops of buildings. Something familiar. Far in the back. And with that, the pain subsided, at least temporarily.

If only for a moment he saw it, it was enough for him to go barreling through the crowd, pushing through bodies and dodging arms, damning his heavy mechanical legs for not being faster. His target had moved down an alley, behind the distant buildings, and he wondered for a moment if he had hallucinated it, an occurrence that wasn’t particularly rare these days.

But the desperate hope that it wasn’t his imagination drove him to follow still, his struggle across the obstacles acting as a sign from fate perhaps that he should stay away. He had never really paid much mind to fate anyways.

You. He stopped in his tracks, chest heaving from the rush of trying to catch up. You lowered the hood of your cloak, turning your head in his direction, eyes wide and curious. You were wearing the same thing as the last time he saw you, but you carried… something.

He didn’t know what to say to you. What was he supposed to say? All he did was shake his head, muscles tightening in shock, as if he had been thrown into an icy lake. You turned away, looking down, a sadness and form of shame written all over you.

“It can’t be,” he whispered, voice wavering and lip shaking. “You’re-”

“Dead?” you finished for him, contempt hidden under your words, though not necessarily directed towards him. “Yeah, I should be. I guess we can’t all get what we want, can we?”

Maul’s face looked as if he had just been shot. “Want? You think I wanted this?”

“You would’ve looked for me if you didn’t.” Hot tears had begun running down your cheeks. “I was left there, and I had to figure out how to get out on my own. Some bitch has a bounty on my head, and you didn’t think I should’ve at least known about it?”

“I searched for you,” he said, tentatively moving closer to you. You didn’t bother backing up. “Every minute of my life for six months. It was only when I had no choice to return that I stopped. Even now, I have search parties dedicated to finding you. Your presence has not left my mind for even a moment, my Starlight. I swear it.” He had finally reached you, taking hold of your upper arms, rubbing soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. As his gaze met yours, you felt safe, the paths of his tattoos a pattern you could recreate even with your eyes shut. You hadn’t felt safe in a long time.

His eyes drifted down to the bundle of cloth in your arms, sea green and soft. Though, the majority of it wasn’t cloth at all.

“Eris,” you said, brushing at the sleeping child’s fuzzy hair. Small horns had already begun pricking up from her skull. “Only about four months old now.” You could visibly see him trying to do the math in his head. “...Yes, it’s yours, please relax.”

He nodded a moment, then stopped. “You named her without me.”

Your soft laugh sent waves of warmth through him, a sensation he had almost forgotten existed. His hand brushed against the baby’s cheek, lighter than yours in tone, as was a trait of the Night Sisters, but she had your eyes, and he thanked the gods for it.

“You are coming back?” he asked, his concern about how many of your feelings for him remained taking over. “You’ve no obligation to, but I could never live with myself if I let you go again. As it stands, I have nothing here for me anymore, and I would follow you to the ends of the galaxy if I had to. Staying at your side allows me to strive for all that I have no desire for on my own, if only to relieve any stray dissatisfaction that might torment you otherwise.”

Smiling, you looked up at him, a hand reaching up to hold his face. “I’m coming back. I’ve missed you. More than anything.”