#lumina brown

[awlimagines]

art by @kinokoshoujoart

Day Four - Lumina

“Are you sure? We could have a coach take you there,” Aunt Romana asked for the hundredth time that morning. 

Lumina's golden-brown eyes glanced from buttoning her jacket to her grandmother. Sebastian hovered behind the bent older woman, their faces lined with worry. She reassuringly smiled at the two before gently telling them again that you would accompany her to the city. Some part of her felt like it was a harsh rebellion against the care they had provided, but she wanted to do this herself, especially since Aunt Romana would not approve of her plans. 

She did her best to push the thoughts from her mind as she traveled with you. Although she was interested in your farm, it became harder to track the conversation as her nerves built. She started like a spooked rabbit as your hand grabbed her outside the dress shop. Lumina gave you a weak grin as you lightly squeezed her hand in encouragement. She hesitated before the mirror, observing the black dress. Panic swelled in her at the choice as she stepped from the dressing room, and your jaw dropped. 

“Y-you look amazing!” you stuttered, fighting not to ogle Lumina as your face grew warm. 

A flush rose in Lumina’s cheeks, pleased to hear your exclamation. Your apparent approval diminished her second thoughts. Lumina protested as you paid for the dress before carefully following your guidance to the theatre. She fought to ignore the butterflies in her stomach as she entered through the stage door. Aunt Romana disliked jaunty Christmas music. She particularly detested The Nutcracker which Lumina now prepared to play. Her fingers ran lightly across the surface of the piano’s keys as she steadied her nerves. 

Lumina hoped you wouldn’t regret an orchestra seat. You had assured her that you’d rather see her play than the ballet. She had trouble believing your sincerity. The Nutcracker used to consume Lumina’s thoughts each year around Starry Night. After her mother’s death, she wished a prince would sweep her away to a magical land. Lumina glanced toward your seat to see your eyes glued to her with an excited grin. 

She hid her smile as you gave a huge thumbs-up before the lights dimmed. Lumina began to play, enjoying the music swelling around her. She hadn’t realized it until now, but her prince had already come. You had entered her life and freed her from the manor's walls, promising new adventures.

[enigmaticexplorer]

I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter II

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | A Muse | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers. 

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 4.7K

Beta. @starstofillmydream

17 Telona

Kazi was a creature of routine.

She preferred tidiness and organization, as demonstrated by her clean house and minimalistic interior design. Everything had its place. And clutter was quickly alleviated. If it wasn’t useful, then it was donated.

After her father’s death, she became hyper-focused on intensive scheduling. The galaxy was chaotic and unpredictable. Routine guaranteed a sense of security and allowed her to feel in control. 

Early morning—the gray of nautical twilight just giving way to the pinks of sunrise—was her time. 

She preferred the quiet, the solitude. 

A swim in the lake down the hill, her strokes repetitive.

A brisk walk back to the house, the dewy climate of Eluca’s jungles and the chilled scent of an earthy breeze relaxing.

A quick shower to cleanse herself. 

A bowl of porridge decorated with chunks of lumina berries and a drizzle of honey. 

Breakfast completed, her solitude lasted an hour, soon interrupted by a sleepy Neyti and a busy Daria. The morning routine took a turn as Kazi focused on Neyti. Breakfast eaten, teeth brushed, school uniform donned. A short drive to the school and then onto work in Eluca’s capital city, Canopis. 

Daria, sometimes with the aid of Healer Natasha, retrieved Neyti from school in the afternoon. Kazi returned to the house in the late evening, ate dinner, and then started her analytical work for the rebel network, spending time with Neyti as the youngling completed her schoolwork or watched a film. Her day didn’t allow for unscheduled interruptions. 

So it had gone since their arrival on Eluca.

Hair still wet from her shower, Kazi stood at the kitchen counter slicing strips of a lumina berry. The berries—ovular shaped and larger than her hand—were a random buy at the marketplace, but when she realized Neyti enjoyed them, they became a staple in the household.

The dark purple fuzz of the shell tickled her palm. She placed the tip of her knife at the center of the berry, sliding it around until it fell into a nearly imperceptible crack. With a smug smile, she slid the knife down and—

The bookcase in the entryway swung open.

Kazi startled, her hand twitching and the knife jerking. It sliced open her palm. 

“Fuck,” she hissed. Setting aside both fruit and knife in favor of running her hand under the sink’s spout, she assessed the cut. 

Luckily, it was small and shallow, and it wouldn’t require stitches. And even if it did, Kazi knew herself well enough to admit she would ignore the problem indefinitely. She would have to be forced and drugged to get stitches. She shivered at the thought. 

It was her involuntary reaction that reminded her of the moving bookcase. Shoulders stiffening and stomach clenching, Kazi turned off the sink, pressed a cloth to her still-bleeding palm, and lifted her head. 

One of the clones, the one with the cybernetic eye—Commander Wolffe—stood on the opposite side of the bar. He was dressed in simple clothes: a white work shirt, brown trousers, and a dark belt. His hair—faded on the sides and longer on top—was slicked back with water. He must have taken a shower. At least the amenities in the basement still worked.

The commander scanned his surroundings, his eyes lingering on the dragon figurine on the bookcase. 

Scales polished a lightless black, as impenetrable as a black hole, the dragon was as long as Kazi’s hand. It was poised in the midst of flight, mirroring the flight pattern of the female dragon from her favorite constellation and legend: the Dancing Dragons. 

The sole difference between her carving and the female dragon was the color. Black versus silver-blue. Kazi’s dragon had been carved from a burnt tree in Ceaia’s most sacred land, the resting place of the last dragon. 

The figurine used to stand on her nightstand. Gifted by her father when she was five years old, per Traditionalist custom, the dragon was her guardian. Her protector. It was one of the few pieces of her old life she still kept. Symbolic of the little girl she used to be. The little girl she couldn’t entirely cut out. 

Kazi shook away the memory and refocused on the clone.

Silence expanded between them, tense and heavy. Tightly wrung with mutual observation and calculation both she and Commander Wolffe were partaking in as they eyed one another. 

In the spirit of cohabitation—forced cohabitation—Kazi cleared her throat. The man across the counter stilled. Except she didn’t have anything to say to him. Maybe a morning greeting would suffice.

But she didn’t think she owed him that. He was in her house interrupting her morning routine, after all. 

“My sister and Neyti will be down sometime soon to eat breakfast,” Kazi informed him. Setting aside the now bloodied rag, she returned to the lumina berry. The shell split open with ease. “Neyti and I leave at 07:30. Daria typically spends the day in town, so you’ll have the house to yourselves until 16:45, or 17:00.” And because her nerves were still rattled by his presence, and because she couldn’t help herself, she added, “Be sure to tidy up after yourselves up here. We prefer cleanliness.”

With that, she walked around the bar, keeping close to the cool metal to avoid nearing the commander, and approached the couch and the flatscreen. A flip of a switch and the flatscreen displayed the local news channel. 

“The problem of terrorists attacking our workplaces, our places of trade, our homes cannot be taken lightly,” a female voice relayed from the screen. Kazi pursed her lips as she returned to the kitchen. “I am dedicated to protecting the people in Veridian Sector, and by extension, the people of our Empire.”

The voice belonged to Moff Harpy of Veridian Sector. A kindly appearance hid the woman’s vindictive nature. Supporting Imperial nationalization of local businesses, Moff Harpy earned herself a negative reputation among Eluca’s locals. She was greedy and willing to funnel money from obsolete planets, like Eluca, into the industrial, money-making planets of Veridian Sector. 

Since the end of the war, Veridian Sector had grown into an important military stronghold. Its location along a prominent hyperspace route and its general submission to Imperial whims made it ideal for Imperial military and security operations. And, as such, most of its planets hosted new military bases. To aid the Empire in its conquest of the ‘uncivilized and rebellious’ Outer Rim.

“Has terrorism been a problem here?”

The question caught her off guard and Kazi looked up from the porridge she was heating on the stove. The commander sat in a stool at the bar. He was reading through a file on his datapad and when he noticed her attention, he shut it off. 

“I wouldn’t call it terrorism,” she said, meeting his gaze. His expression was unreadable, hard and seemingly apathetic. Bored, yet hinting intrigue.

The expressionless mask shifted as he rolled his eyes. “Unlawful use of violence against civilians is terrorism.”

“That may be so”—she stirred her porridge—“but what about the unlawful use of violence by the government against civilians. Is that considered terrorism as well?” Her question was rhetorical so she pressed on. “There have been small pockets of rebellion in this sector, just as there have been in most Outer Rim sectors ever since the Empire arrived.”

They lapsed into silence. 

Kazi listened to the updates from the HoloNet, occasionally glancing over her shoulder to watch the screen whenever the news was appallingly glamoured in propaganda. The reporters shifted their attention back to the question of “terrorism” and the recent imprisonment of terrorists on the planet Geonosis.  

“These rebels”—Commander Wolffe said the word as if it offended him—“are idiots if they think they can take on the Empire.”

Kazi frowned at the condescension in his tone. She may have held similar cynical beliefs—rebellion against the omnipotent Empire was inevitably futile and would likely lead to mass deaths across the galaxy—but she didn’t care for the former commander’s ridicule. 

There were good people out there. People like Lore and Sparks, and even Fehr, who were dedicated to helping others: food relief, chain code provisions, displaced persons’ relocation. Kazi may have lacked the optimism in hoping for the Empire’s end. But she did believe in helping others.

“They’re people who believe in something bigger and better.” She noted the barely masked scorn in the commander’s gaze while he listened to her. “I don’t see why their personal decisions matter so much to you.”

“They don’t.” He tapped two fingers against the bar. 

Even sitting his stature and size were imposing. Intimidating. He could easily overpower her if he wanted, and that thought unnerved her. 

“They have to realize fighting against the Empire is a waste of resources,” Commander Wolffe interrupted the silence once more. Kazi gripped her spoon harder. “And for what? To restore the Republic? It’s an unattainable goal.”

“Maybe to you.”

“Don’t tell me you believe their agenda.” 

Her hesitation to answer earned her a smug look from the commander. It put her on the defensive.

“What about you?” she demanded. “You’re trying to rescue current soldiers of the Empire. That’s an incredibly futile mission.” The commander stiffened and she silently congratulated herself for hitting a nerve. “The rebels may be optimistic, but they’re actually doing something instead of hiding.”

“The rebels’ actions aren’t doing anything helpful. You can argue their actions are working to the contrary. Blowing up government buildings with innocent civilians in them will anger the Empire. It’ll react harsher. And crueler.”

“Those were guerrillas. The rebel network isn’t—”

“What has your network done? Anything of value?”

“The Empire has been in control for little more than a year.” Defensiveness coiled in her muscles and it took effort to keep her tone composed. “Rebellion takes time. Time to plan. To organize. To strategize. The network is gathering resources and intel in order to prepare for well-timed targets. I would expect a commander to know that.”

“Not everyone has time.” Commander Wolffe leaned forward. “My brothers and I are doing something. We’re rescuing soldiers. Getting them out and somewhere safe. Right now. The rebel groups—network, Partisan Front, whatever you want to call them—haven’t done anything beneficial.”

“I find it hypocritical that you’re scorning the rebels while working with them.”

He scoffed. “We’re not working together.”

Kazi frowned. It was her understanding that the three commanders were working with the network. Now that she thought about it, though, Fehr never mentioned a network-clone collaboration. The older woman merely stated she knew the men through a mutual contact. 

Suspicion spiked in her chest, like a blowfish the moment it sensed danger. Kazi knew nothing about these clones—their mission could be a lie, a façade for something else.  

“We have a similar dislike of the Empire,” Commander Wolffe said, his eyes narrowing at her blatant stare. “That’s it. I won’t waste my time on unrealistic ideologies and impractical strategies that will fail.”

“The rebels’ ideology may be flawed, but it’s hope that dictates their actions. Hope that the galaxy can be better.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “People need that hope—they need something to believe in—because without it, they won’t be invested in the movement.”

He cocked his head to the side, mistrust palpable in his quick assessment of her body. “What are you doing for the movement?” 

“I collect data and analyze it.”

“What type of data?”

“Data concerning Veridian Sector.”

Commander Wolffe sat back in his seat, a satisfied expression on his face. “Your data isn’t significant.”

Kazi gritted her teeth. The data she stole from her government job was minimal, and it wasn’t significant to the galaxy at large. However, it kept the network informed of Imperial movements within the Sector, as well as the occasional intelligence that helped precarious situations elsewhere. 

Her intel analyses served one purpose: to warn the network of alarming Imperial decisions. 

Kazi didn’t appreciate the smug look on the commander’s face, and she didn’t appreciate his blatant dismissal of the rebel network’s work—dismissal of her work—even if she agreed with him.

“It’s better to analyze insignificant data than to abet the Empire. Remind me, you were a soldier, right?” She smiled at the clench in his jaw. “We have people like you to thank for standing by and allowing the Empire to overthrow the Republic.”

The commander straightened in his seat, lips pressing in a firm line. Kazi maintained eye contact. But she could feel the tension emanating from him. Tension and rage. 

The silence lasted a full minute before Commander Wolffe tapped his fingers against the bar, rolling his shoulders back. 

“ ‘Course a natborn would assume I supported the rise of the Empire.” His voice carried an overtone of indifference. It was belied by the rigidity of his posture. “Arrogant and judgmental, huh.”

“Is it really judgmental if it’s based on fact?”

“And what evidence do you have to support your statement?”

“Did you or did you not serve the Empire as it came to power?”

The commander crossed his arms over his chest. “You said you already knew.”

Kazi regarded him for a few seconds. He had a point—she had made her judgment and thought herself correct without the evidence to support or prove it. It irked her that he was technically right. The taunting quirk of his mouth irked her even further. 

“I may have judged you, but I am right.” Kazi turned off the stove and removed her porridge, allowing it to cool. “The clones turned against the Republic and now serve the Empire. You served the Empire, so your criticism of the rebellion is moot.”

Commander Wolffe scoffed. “I’m not allowed to criticize ineffective strategy because of my past?”

“You’re not criticizing ineffective strategy. You’re criticizing the rebellion’s existence.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” He fisted a hand atop the counter. “The rebellion is another form of authority. Similar to the Empire. It’s exerting what it believes is the ideal way of governance.”

It was her turn to scoff. “The rebellion is fighting to free people from oppressive authority. They’re not exerting their own beliefs on others.”

“What happens if the rebellion defeats the Empire? What’s stopping them from abusing their power?”

“The rebellion’s leaders won’t abuse their power—”

“You don’t know that.”

“In that case, you shouldn’t trust any form of authority or governance.” At Commander Wolffe’s casual shrug, Kazi rolled her eyes. “Your cynicism is unreasonable—”

“I have every reason to not trust any form of governance.”

“I never said you didn’t—”

“You were saying my behavior was unreasonable.” 

Kazi straightened at the accusation in his tone. “You clearly have a problem with me—” 

“And you’ve been the picture of hospitality.”

“As I was saying”—her voice sharpened—“you have a problem with me, so tell me what it is.”

The commander lounged back in the stool. His features were tight with wariness, his gaze cold and harsh. “What does your network want from us?”

The question was so unexpected Kazi could only blink at him. 

“The network wants many things,” she said.

“That’s not an answer.”

“I don’t know what the network wants from you, or if they even want something.” She held his gaze. “What are you doing here?”

“Rescue-and-relocate.” The commander worked his jaw, his eyes never leaving hers. “Why was this house chosen?”

At his flippant tone, Kazi tensed. “Is it not up to your standards?”

“I’m trying to figure out why the network chose this location when you clearly don’t want us here.” He gave her a bored look. “Planning on turning us in to the Empire?”

“Why did you accept the location when you clearly don’t trust the network?” 

He refused to answer, his gaze unflinching. 

Deeming the conversation concluded, Kazi returned to her porridge. She spooned a lump but hesitated, sneaking a sidelong glance in the commander’s direction. Eating in front of a stranger—eating in front of people, in general—was something she avoided, so she turned her back to him. Her small bite was cold and bland. She forced herself to swallow. 

Uncertainty gnawed at her mind and apprehension knotted her muscles. The commander’s intrusion left her feeling off-kilter. Everything was outside her control.   

Her porridge was no longer warm. She lost precious minutes of solitude. Her palm ached from the coagulating blood. The floors were dirty.

Kazi bit her tongue. Crumbs dotted the hardwood and it was clear her sister hadn’t vacuumed, even though she said she would.

Gripping her spoon harder, she tried to steady her breathing. She would vacuum when she returned to the house tonight. It wasn’t a big deal.

But her sister’s lack of responsibility vexed her, and her environment was unclean, and now three more people would be using the kitchen. Excluding however many soldiers the clone commanders brought here. 

The reality of the situation struck her. Soldiers would be living here. Soldiers she didn’t know. Male soldiers who could be a danger to Neyti or Daria. 

Heart beating too fast, Kazi forced herself to take another bite of porridge. It was too cold. She struggled to swallow it. 

Panic mounted inside of her. She set aside the bowl and moved on to preparing Neyti’s lunch. 

Minutes later, with a well-balanced meal paired with a tasty slice of pie she baked earlier in the week, Kazi stacked the food containers into a portable lunch bag. Snagging a pen and flimsi pad from a drawer, she wrote a quick note. 

The moons will be full tonight. We can look at them.

The daily notes were simple. She didn’t know if Neyti read them, but she wanted the little girl to know she wasn’t alone. Even if she was distant and they didn’t talk—

A sharp intake of breath drew her attention and Kazi looked up. 

In hindsight, she reacted too slowly. 

The situation was unusual—players on a gameboard interacting in a dimension they weren’t supposed to—and so her reaction was delayed, allowing the situation to devolve. 

A sleepy Neyti stood at the bottom of the stairs, adorably rumpled in overlarge pajamas and bunny-shaped slippers. Black hair knotted, her mouth hung open. 

Kazi’s first thought concerned a morning greeting. She never knew how to interact with Neyti, and she always overthought what to say. 

Good morning felt too formal and insincere. 

How did you sleep? would go unanswered since Neyti refused to speak.

Today, the greeting debate didn’t matter. 

Neyti stared at Commander Wolffe with wide eyes, and the commander stared back, perturbed. 

The small child gulped. She mouthed a word, something that looked like “No.”

Confused, Kazi watched Neyti launch herself at the now-standing commander. Tiny fists pummeled the commander’s thighs and stomach, and it was so odd that Kazi still hesitated.

An annoyed grunt from the commander snapped her into action and Kazi lurched around the bar, yanking Neyti into her body. The little girl strained against her arms, gasping. 

“Neyti,” Kazi scolded gently, turning the girl around. “Stop—stop.”

Neyti was shaking, large gray eyes welling with tears, nose sniffling. She seemed to be fighting the tears—her tawny skin growing blotchy and shoulders curving inwards. Pitiful hiccups emanated from her chest and she kept gulping, as if she could swallow back the emotions.

The sight of the small child trying to control her emotions made Kazi tense. 

It was like looking through a window into her childhood. Witnessing the moments she hid in her room, breathing erratic and body shuddering as she dug her fingernails into her thighs and ordered herself not to cry. Pinching herself to feel real pain rather than the uncontrollable feelings pounding in her chest like fists trying to claw their way free.

“Neyti,” Kazi whispered hoarsely. 

Neyti burst into a stifled sob and pressed her hands to her face, trying to hide the tears wetting her cheeks. Small, muffled cries shook her shoulders. 

From the corner of Kazi’s eye, Commander Wolffe rubbed the back of his neck, his consternated gaze trained on the crying girl. He took a step forward, brows knitted together. 

Deciding it best to create space, Kazi scooped Neyti into her arms and moved upstairs to the safe confines of the little girl’s room. Once the door was closed, she set Neyti on the edge of the bed. 

The bed’s quilt was a mosaic depiction of blue and white waves. She thought it would be a pleasant reminder of Ceaia; a reminder of home for the child who lost everything. Small stuffed animals—a spotted jaguar, a blue bird of prey, and a pink dolphin (all natives to Eluca)—perched across Neyti’s stacked pillows. 

Sitting cross-legged, Neyti hid her face in her hands. Her sobs had quieted into wet hiccups; she still trembled. 

Kazi reached a hand forward—tentative, slow—but she hesitated. She worked hard to respect Neyti’s space, understanding how disorienting unwanted touch could be, and she didn’t want to force it. 

Instead, she grabbed the spotted jaguar and gently placed it in Neyti’s lap. A hope the stuffed animal could provide a comfort she couldn’t. Neyti hugged the animal to her chest.

Uncertain what to do now, Kazi scanned the girl’s bedroom.

A brown, wooden desk leaned against the left wall. Laid across its chair was Neyti’s school uniform, creaseless and clean.

Four of the desk’s six shelves were barren. One shelf carried extra school supplies and the second shelf housed a small succulent Daria gifted Neyti a few weeks ago. Bulbous, white dots splattered the red flower, like sheep grazing in a field of blood. Vibrant green oddly shaped leaves sloped the perimeter of the pot. The dirt looked freshly watered.

A quiet cough drew her attention. Wide eyes blinked at her. Abashed, Neyti ducked her chin to her chest, hastily wiping at her cheeks.

Kazi bit the inside of her cheek, hating herself for Neyti’s clear embarrassment. She needed to do better—be better—for the youngling. Shoving aside her self-deprecating thoughts, she grabbed a handful of tissues from a box on the nightstand and offered one to Neyti. The girl accepted it and rubbed away her tears. 

“Did the man downstairs scare you?” Kazi asked gently.

Neyti froze, her shoulders curving inwards.

“It’s okay if you were scared,” she said. Neyti’s lower lip trembled and Kazi mentally berated herself. Berated herself for putting Neyti in such an awful situation. “It’s scary to see people you don’t know. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about him.” She paused. “Did he remind you of what happened to your mom?” 

The little girl sniffled and looked down at the bed. Her fingers played with the tissue, folding it into crisp lines.

Kazi massaged her temple. She should have known Neyti would react this way. She should have been prepared. She should have told Commander Wolffe to leave so that she could speak with Neyti.

It was her fault Neyti was scared and crying. She had failed. Failed spectacularly.

Defeat wrapped an unfriendly arm around her; she gritted her teeth.

“That man downstairs isn’t going to hurt you, okay?” She searched Neyti’s frowning face. “He’s a…good guy. And he and a few others like him are going to live with us for a while. Okay?”

Neyti tilted her head to the side, curiosity awakened.

Kazi nudged a bunny slipper with her foot. “You’re safe here. You’re safe with me and Daria. Okay?”

Still fiddling with the tissue, Neyti considered her. For a six-year-old, she practiced a shrewdness most adults lacked, her expression thoughtful, perceptive eyes wandering from the door to her face. Kazi kept her features open and kind, hoping Neyti could see the truth in her gaze. The promise. Finally, Neyti nodded. 

Loosing a quiet breath of relief, Kazi straightened. She hesitated for a moment and then extended her hand. “Are you ready for breakfast?”

Neyti appraised her hand. After a few seconds, she patted it.  

Slightly bemused, Kazi decided it was progress and made her way to the door. 

Correcting one of the lopsided ears on her bunny slipper so that both were proportionally angled, Neyti stumbled from her bed, tossed away her tissue, and followed Kazi back downstairs. 

Her hope to ease Neyti into a cohabitated space with the clones—starting small with just Commander Wolffe—was ruined by the presence of the other two clones. 

The three clones stood close together, countenances serious and voices low in discussion. 

Muscles stiffened along her back and Kazi pursed her lips. So much for an easy introduction.

Lifting her chin, she strode into the kitchen. The clones’ conversation faltered. Three sets of eyes assessed her and then lowered to Neyti who stood on the final step of the staircase, one hand curled around the banister while her gaze bounced from one clone to the next. Her cheeks started to darken; her mouth pressed into a thin line. 

Kazi cleared her throat—an attempt to distract the clones from Neyti—and grabbed her bloodied rag, stuffing it in her back pocket to hide it from Neyti.

“I want to apologize for what happened,” she said, meeting Commander Wolffe’s gaze. “I hadn’t told her about your arrival and you…” Scared her.

A muscle flexed in his jaw. 

“…startled her,” she finished.

Soft footsteps padded to the corner of the bar. Kazi gave Neyti an encouraging nod. Bunny ears bobbing, Neyti stepped close to her side, her eyes darting from Kazi to the clones. A vacillated movement waiting for someone to act.

Commander Cody moved first, patting one of the bar’s stools. A small smile lifted his lips, and in a kindly voice he asked, “Do you want to sit here?”

An adorable glare darkened Neyti’s features. With a suspicious glower aimed at the commander, she wandered farther into the kitchen, deliberately ignoring the three males. 

The clones shared dubious looks. 

While Neyti grabbed a fork from a squeaking drawer, Kazi opened a lopsided cabinet to retrieve a plate, wincing at the cabinet’s poor appearance. The house boasted a multitude of loose or broken oddities. She wanted to hire someone to fix the basic issues but she kept putting it off. 

Still glowering, Neyti edged around the bar, keeping ample distance between her and the males, and took a seat at the kitchen table. Scrambled eggs, buttered toast, and berry slices filled her plate. She took slow bites as she eyed the clones.  

Expecting more interrogation from the now-gathered commanders, Kazi faced them. Commander Wolffe was staring at her, arms folded across his chest. 

“You have a kid.”

“Yes.” She studied him, trying to decipher his inscrutable expression. It was futile. When the three clones didn’t question her further on Neyti’s existence, she changed topics. “I registered a flight plan for you. Your ship is now a food-export carrier.”

Registering the flight plan under her name left her annoyed and unsettled. But Fehr requested it, and she couldn’t refuse. She only hoped nothing would come of it. 

Commander Fox leaned against the bar. “Fehr mentioned you’re an analyst.”

It wasn’t a question so Kazi didn’t bother confirming. Instead, she observed the severe glare Commander Wolffe threw Commander Fox. A glare full of warning.

Either ignorant of Commander Wolffe’s baleful stare or electing to ignore him, Commander Fox continued. “We have intel that needs to be analyzed—”

“No.” The word was low and controlled, and though Commander Wolffe appeared apathetic, the rigid lines in his shoulders and jaw spoke otherwise.

The two commanders stared one another down. Their postures were stiff and eyes narrowed as they engaged in a silent argument Kazi couldn’t parse. Commander Cody looked between them. He released an aggrieved sigh, shaking his head. 

Deciding she had no interest in whatever the clones wanted, Kazi joined Neyti at the table. 

While Neyti finished her breakfast, Kazi considered her tasks for the day, making a mental note to pick up more lumina berries from the Marketplace. Her thoughts were jittery, though, and her attention returned to analyzing Commander Wolffe. He hadn’t moved, his stance defensive, face guarded.

Except, this time, his expression wasn’t so unreadable. 

He was scrutinizing her. Studying her in a way that made the hairs on the back of her neck curl. 

There was something in his gaze that left her discomfited. Like she was a ball of yarn, knotted and entangled, yet he was assured in his abilities to pick her apart. To untangle her and peer inside at all she kept carefully locked away and hidden. 

But she knew herself, and she knew he would never succeed. 

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | A Muse | Chapter 3

A/N: Next chapter release – January 18th

I love the reluctant father trope. It's one of my favorites. But I’ve also come to the unremarkable realization that readers readily forgive male characters for their parenting mistakes, but when it comes to a woman, she’s expected to be a good parent. She’s expected to have a motherly “instinct”, and readers, and society in general, aren’t forgiving of these female characters when they mess up.

This is my take on the reluctant father trope. Kazi will make mistakes when it comes to Neyti’s care. She will majorly fuck up. She is human, she is not infallible, and she doesn’t know what she’s doing. Parenting is a learning experience, regardless of gender. Her struggles are a main part of this story. 

Read "A Muse" for additional context and a map of the house.

[feytouched]

scent of the day: vanilla 28 (kayali)

according to perfumetok, i was expecting this to be the vanilla-est vanilla to ever vanilla. imo it isn't that - it's a good fragrance, don't get me wrong, but i don't get bakery vanilla extract from this at all. actually, vanilla is very much secondary to the main notes of white florals, brown sugar, and amber. the sweetness here is very intense, but more mature and sexy. my bf, wholly unprompted, said "something smells like chocolate bonbons!" when i walked in the room. these top & middle notes do indeed create a caramelly praline impression.

this fits into a flormand formula that reminds me of a certain era of victoria's secret's higher-end perfumes (a throwback to first yr of uni when dark angel was my signature scent). imo this has a bit of a 'for the straights' / 'male gaze perfume' vibe to it; not campy or subversive enough to be intended for the hashtag girlie audience, but a safe bet if you wanna be a hit with the general straight male population, or just smell attractive in a somewhat basic, instagram model way. the scent equivalent of wearing victoria's secret lingerie, if you will.

throw and longevity are quite good, and it's unlikely to offend anyone's nose, though beware if you're not fond of sweet scents; this could be too cloying for some. if you like vanilla 28, you'll also like alkemia's luminae, foxfire, or silken tent.

[lovelessdagger]

Starlight - Epilogue: Starlight

Pairing: Din Djarin x OC

Rating: Mature

Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence

WARNINGS: None.

Words: 2.7k

Summary:  The end comes as natural as the beginning. In peacetime, indistinguishable from all tellings before.

A/N at end.

Masterlist | Starlight Masterlist | AO3 | Prev

The end comes as natural as the beginning. In peacetime, indistinguishable from all tellings before. The darkness has not been defeated, and the suns have yet to rise in the early morning. Stars persist, and the glimmering silver hues of the moon shine bright from a hole in the sky.

Lumina’s duffle is light, her possessions few. Her stomach churns.

It is too late, she is committed.

---

Hyperspace brings reflection.

In a journal, she scribes nonsense:

Without light

I inherit

my mothers

sin.  

She hears a calling melody and ignores.

---

Lumina doesn’t know the planet they land on, coordinates came from mediation not a hologram. The environment reminds her of Corvus before the rebirth. Desolate, brown, dead. The air is cold, she tries not to shiver, tying a cloak over her shoulders.

Boba Fett exits the ship with her. He watches her with the care of a father under a lifetime of anxiety.

She feels a child again under his eye, itching to run back inside to the security he holds. She could find contentment, being with him. His faith in her is unwavering, should her sickness overtake he is all she would need by her side.

In every meaning she will miss him the most.

“K’olaror,” Boba says. He gives her his hand, holding her one in his two. “Ke'sushi.” He sighs. “Ad’ika. Are you certain this what you want?”

She answers, “I am. I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

He nods. “I have made many errors in my life,” he says. “I’ve spent my days wondering if I could have changed what’s happened to you. If I were there when—” he stops, squeezing her hand. “I swore to always watch over you. Not once did I ever think that duty would end. I force myself to forget many things, you’ve always reminded me why I shouldn’t. I wish I could have done more for you.”

“You’ve done plenty,” Lumina tells him. “More than you should. You took me on, a stranger, no pretenses. I imagine I’d be a lot worse without you. For all the bad Vader did… I don’t think we’d find each other another way.”

To this, Boba says nothing.

“It is already late,” he whispers. “You should begin your journey now. The dark is treacherous.”

Lumina responds, “It can be.” And as she does, the familiar white condor of Tatooine soars above the Slave I. She looks to her feet, seeing an oil slick snake. “Though not always.” Her eyes find Boba again, her face an echo. “I’ll be okay.”

“Strength is in your blood. Among all things you are a Fett. We are survivors. You may not be my daughter, but you will always be my little light. And I will miss you more than anything.”

Lumina thought herself past tears, she forgets her humanity until her vision is blurred within pools of their own doing. He holds her in a tight embrace, kissing the top of her head. She smells the warmth of leather, the tinge of metal in his beskar, the oak of his wash.

And she cries like a child.

At her calming some time later, he pulls away, holding her shoulders at arms length. “Are you ready?”

Lumina nods. “I am. Are you?”

He smiles. “No. But such is life.” From his pocket he places an item into her hand. A necklace of black cording and a handmade silver skull pendent. “An heirloom,” he says. “So that you may remember.”

Lumina inspects the jewelry, a reflection of her day on Nevarro. Of a witch and a burning. She bites the shock of a gasp, a stern gaze on her stern fist. This is real, she tells herself. Though there are no accessible memories within the object; Everything is real.

She asks aloud, “Remember what?”

Boba Fett answers: “Who you are.”

---

In the night, Lumina is guided through a forest. The white bird leads, the black snake acts as a compass. Not once is she lost. The path is filled by living grass, living trees, living flowers. She follows a line of torch bugs, taking time to admire the sky. There is comfort, even now with the most nerves in her life.

The road ends at a wide opening to a field. A large stone sits in the center, a smaller one at its side. Atop sits a cloaked figure in meditation, the bird flying to their shoulder. “I was beginning to think you’d never come.” Blue eyes open once Lumina is positioned in front, a clever stare given to the snake. “It’s good our friends work together now.”

“Ahsoka,” Lumina whispers. She bends at her feet, her head bowed. “I wish to apologize. I beg your forgiveness for all I have done.”

“Do not speak,” the old Padawan says. “Sit with me.”

With hesitance, Lumina takes her place at Ahsoka’s side. Her legs cross, a hand on each knee. Ahsoka settles into her meditation once more, closing her eyes.

Lumina attempts to follow suit; she is no stranger to the act, however difficulty finds place in rhythm. Her breathing is unsteady, she is disconnected, shaking. Sensory of the new world overwhelms her already peaked nerves.

Pressure comes at her lower back, a flat palm adjusting her posture. Through guidance of the Force, she steadies.

In. Hold. Out. Hold. In. Hold. Out. Hold…

All is well.

Ahsoka comes to her front, lifting Lumina’s chin. They lock eyes. “I will stay true to my promise, but if this is to work,” she says, “we must behave differently than we know. You must be open to the challenge. Do you understand?”

Quiet, Lumina responds. “I do. I am.”

Ahsoka nods. “Very well.” Lifting the hood of her cloak, she turns on a heel. “Come now. There is much work ahead.”

Together, they journey on.

---

There are still days where Lumina wakes with a start. Tonight is one of those instances. Her new home, Ahsoka’s T-6 shuttle, flies gentle in subspace when she jumps. Her hand presses against her chest, the other flinging covers off her sweat. She leans over the cot, steady birthing breaths to the ground.

Her feet touch base first, pushing herself to stand when the dizziness subsides. She pads to the refresher, splashing water on her face. A hand wave powers the lights. She cringes undoing tight braided hair. The resulting mane isn’t much better, though scalp strain won’t be missed. 

She looks younger than she feels. A million lives over the course of an assumed twenty-eight years, how remarkable. Her eyes flicker to the embedded standardized clock in the mirror. Three in the morning. She groans. Perfect.

Lumina elects to finish getting ready, swapping her sleepwear for typical gear. Dark robes reminiscent of a Jedis—something old of Ahsoka’s. 

“You’re up late.” Ahsoka, leaning against the doorway.

“Early,” Lumina corrects. “Bad dream.”

“Again? You said those stopped.”

“They did.” She sighs, wrapping arm bands up to her elbows. “Then they came back.”

“When?”

Lumina shrugs. “One… two months ago?”

“Two months?”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Too late.” She walks in, directly behind Lumina. Ahsoka pulls her hair back behind her shoulders. She grabs Lumina’s comb, raking it through. Not having any of her own, Ahsoka’s grown quite enamored. “I wish you wouldn’t keep things from me,” she says.

“Right,” Lumina mumbles. “Because you keep nothing from me.”

The refresher grows quiet.

“I’m sorry,” Lumina says. She rubs the pendant of her necklace through her shirt. 

“Echo,” Ahsoka whispers. “We’ve been over this.”

“I know.”

“You cannot be tethered to the past. You must be mindful of the future.”

“But not at the expense of the present,” Lumina says. “I know.” She chews her lip, rolling her shoulders. “I just… don’t you think if I knew, it could help me?”

“No. Actually I think it would do the opposite. If you knew… you’d devote yourself to her. Not yourself. You’d abandon your training to look for a fantasy. When you’re ready to know, I’ll tell you everything.”

“How will I know that I’m ready?”

Ahsoka shrugs. “You’ll know.”

The ship lurches from under their feet, Lumina grips the rim of the sink.

“Finish getting ready,” Ahsoka says. “We’re early, but since you’re up we’ll get a head start.”

“On what?”

Ahsoka smiles. “The next step of your training.”

---

“This is Tython,” Ahsoka says. They climb a rocky hill in the dead of night and beginning of the planets spring. “Long ago the Jedi held Temples on many planets, not just Coruscant.”

“I remember,” Lumina says. “Days of old believed in genuine aid. Easier done when the aid can actually get to those in need in a timely manner. And it kept separation from politics.”

“The Temple here became irrelevant some time in the High Republic with the emergence of hyperlanes. To my knowledge, what remains of the Jedi have gone largely untouched by sentients since.” Lumina is spared a look. “The Force is meant to be strong here, as pure as it can be while in the known galaxy. This is just fable of course, but I find there is truth in legend.”

Lumina snorts. “Clever.”

“I can be funny.”

“Hardly.” Her eyes roll, fond. “So, why are we here?”

“To test you,” Ahsoka says. “And myself I suppose. The effectiveness of my training, the progression of you, all in-between. You’ve been my student—my partner for half a cycle. Six months to the day. You’re a different person from when we met. Mostly.”

“Not that different,” Lumina mumbles. “Better at pretending, I think.” She taps the saber on her hip, swinging with every step. “I’m still red. Always will be. Leave a crack for the dark it’ll flood your soul.”

Ahsoka’s brow quirks. “That’s a Jedi proverb.”

“Mandalorian, originally,” Lumina corrects. “Ba'slanar palon werede ven kyr'amu gar runi.”

They come to the top of the hill and ruins of a stonehenge, a flat boulder in the middle. Lumina overlooks the horizon, circling the perimeter. No nearby village, no visible forest, rivers, lakes, or mountains. The T-6 shrinks to porg size with the distance, a small blinking light from Huyang.

“Take a seat,” Ahsoka says, waving to the stone. “Present your saber.” Flat in Lumina’s hands, she speaks again. “When I first got that lightsaber, my crystal was green. While I was in exile, it stayed in the care of our Master. He turned it blue. Gifted to you, the crystal is red.”

“I bled the kyber myself” Lumina admits. “Not him. After Yavin… Boba and I went to Tatooine, to learn about that boy who destroyed the Death Star. I knew from the first thing I touched who he was. What he was. I knew what it meant for me. Skywalker took everything from me. He had a family—one who loved him, he didn’t need mine. I thought turning my crystal red would make him care about me again. In the end it just enforced that I could be on my own. So I was. After I did it I felt horrible. Then I felt proud, then I felt horrible for feeling proud, soon enough I stopped caring.“

Ahsoka takes the saber through the Force, pulling apart each section. “How do you feel now?”

Lumina shrugs, the kyber floating back into her palm. “This is part of who I am.” Ahsoka places the hilt on the floor before Lumina. “I think of it like my scars. They’re all a reminder of where I come from. Used to be what I fought for. Now they’re what I fight against.”

She could swear Ahsoka smirks, though the expression is fleeting. “There’s hope for you yet.” She circles Lumina, placing pressure on her lower back. “Your assignment is meditation,” she says.

Lumina looks over. “For how long?”

Ahsoka lifts the hood of her cloak, stepping away. “The Force will guide you, have faith. Return to the ship when you’re ready. I’d like to introduce you to some friends of mine. They could use our help.” 

“In?”

Ahsoka answers, “Meditate. Keep your mind clear. Trust in the Force,” and disappears below the hillside.

---

Meditation is strictly a Jedi practice, one Lumina never thought herself particularly good at. Her breathing found habit in being too harsh, her posture too slumped or too rigid, her mind too full.

The worries allude her now. They’re so trivial. For the first time in her life, Lumina allows her own existence. She connects to the planets core and touches every living creature. She is weightless.

Six months under Ahsoka’s tutelage brought a bounty full of knowledge, but also perspective. 

The good days have been hard, and the bad days impossible. In the beginning, Lumina convinced herself of an imaginary ploy. She kept distance, sleeping with a knife at her side. She expected a break in persona. A punishment for failure, disobedience—of which there were plenty. A punishment which Ahsoka not once delivered on.

Their arguments become heated, Lumina knows how to get ugly with insults. She knows Ahsoka. Knows her memories, her struggles, her fears. Lumina knows cruelness and is unafraid of creating casualties.

But Ahsoka is patient. She is kind. She knows when it’s best to allow space and when to goad the truth. She never forces Lumina to stay, if her desire is to leave she may. By day, Lumina will pack. By night, she rests curled at Ahsoka’s side, mumbling apologies like a told off toddler.

Her maturity was too great as a child, now she lacks too greatly. At times she thinks herself an untrained hound, full of malicious intent when pinned.

She is learning—slowly—to be different. To be better. Perhaps she’ll be a student for the remainder of her life, however long or short that may be.

She is ready.

For trust, although cautioned. Peace, although fleeting. Security, even if conceptual. Love… she doesn’t know if she’s ready for love; the great vulnerability of the soul.

She may not be meant for it.

Loving comes in hand with loss, and she has had her fill of grief. Though that could be the point.

Knowing the Child, raising life—Ahsoka says the lessons from him are greater than any she could teach. Her heart does strain for Grogu more than she can bear. His smell, his warmth, his heart. Gods she prays the Force is with him. For the sake of his father if not her.

Din. Maker… there aren’t enough words in the galaxy to begin. Moons have never been the same, she’d never see the sun again if it meant the consistency of their comfort. She is haunted still, unsure if she holds right to such a feeling. A murderer murdered by their greatest muse.

What a tragedy for the act to be his right, welcomed into her life with each wound.

She cannot complain.

Even still, she would allow the violence. She is deserving.

Their story is the same as the rest, as she predicted, as she warned. He knew. He’s too smart not to have known.  In one form or another they were both willing to their lot in life.

A misery colored with company.

There have been worse punishments.

She would go again, and in a way she is fulfilled. 

She hopes he is as well.

In some way, she knows it to be true.

She is content.

Through the winds of the Force, Lumina Fett hears an echoing melody, far in the distance. Her eyes open. The sun has yet to rise, forgoing any indication of a significant passage of time. She looks to the sky, the stars being especially bright tonight.

All is well.

If the story has happened before it will happen again.

One will try.

The other will too.

Even if nothing will change, they will try because it might. They will try again and again, willing to the devastation for even a chance.

Poetry of ages past declares the law.

Lumina takes her lightsaber hilt from the dirt, placing her kyber firmly inside. She takes a breath.

A story told time and time again.

It will begin with peace, as it always does.

It will be the early morning.

Darkness continues, as it has for many years.

Though its time is ending.

Soon, dawn will emerge.

It is the will of the Force.

In an instant, from the black hilt of a lightsaber, a beam of pure white plasma illuminates the night sky.

Just like starlight.

----

A/N: Moonlight, the second installment, will release 2024.

Thank you.

-----

Taglist: @lexloon​ @jay-bel​ @xsadderdazeforeverx​ @spideysimpossiblegirl​ @sarahjkl82-blog​ @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny​ @hello-th3r3​

[bluebird-in-a-cagedrawing]

I’m gonna do this for some of my ocs...

01. Full name: Silver

02. Best friend:Nick

03. Sexuality:Straight

04. Favorite color: Green

05. Relationship status:Taken

06. Ideal mate:Ruby:The fire lady

07. Turn-ons:-

08. Favorite food:Spicy food/ sea food

09. Crushes: Ruby:The fire lady

10. Favorite music:Rapp

11. Biggest fear:Spiders

12. Biggest fantasy:Final Fantasy (games)

13. Bad habits:

14. Biggest regret:

15. Best kept secrets:Yes only 25%

16. Last thought:Pizza or french fries

17. Worst romantic experience:In school the 6 grade

18. Biggest insecurity:His hair

19. Weapon of choice:Knife

20. Role Model:Cloud the soul

01. Full name: Layla Clarence

02. Best friend:Bella the cat

03. Sexuality:Straight

04. Favorite color: Yellow

05. Relationship status:Taken

06. Ideal mate:

07. Turn-ons:-

08. Favorite food:Chinese

09. Crushes: Noone

10. Favorite music:Jazz

11. Biggest fear:Bees

12. Biggest fantasy:Witch

13. Bad habits:Practice witchcraft

14. Biggest regret:Her sister

15. Best kept secrets:Yes

16. Last thought:Why blue and not red?

17. Worst romantic experience:5 years ao

18. Biggest insecurity:Her nails

19. Weapon of choice:Sword

20. Role Model: Abigail

01. Full name: Clarisa Florince B

02. Best friend:Yoldeing the cat

03. Sexuality:Bisexual

04. Favorite color: red

05. Relationship status:Single

06. Ideal mate:Blue eyes, 1,79cm,charmin

07. Turn-ons:-

08. Favorite food:Sweets

09. Crushes:Her boss

10. Favorite music:-

11. Biggest fear:Snakes

12. Biggest fantasy:-

13. Bad habits:Eats too much spicy

14. Biggest regret:-

15. Best kept secrets:Yes

16. Last thought:I love this dress

17. Worst romantic experience: 2 days ago at the cinema

18. Biggest insecurity:-

19. Weapon of choice: Gun

20. Role Model: Miya the rightful angel

01. Full name:  Diamond/Lumina

02. Best friend:Monica

03. Sexuality:Straight

04. Favorite color: Orange

05. Relationship status:Taken

06. Ideal mate:black short hair, black-deep blue eyes

07. Turn-ons:-

08. Favorite food:cakes

09. Crushes:Her future husband

10. Favorite music:dub step

11. Biggest fear: Dogs/Snakes

12. Biggest fantasy:-

13. Bad habits:-

14. Biggest regret:-

15. Best kept secrets:Yes

16. Last thought:I love snow somuch 

17. Worst romantic experience:-

18. Biggest insecurity:-

19. Weapon of choice:Sword

20. Role Model: Monica

01. Full name: Yoldeing the cat

2. Best friend:Clarisa

03. Sexuality:Asexual/Aromantic

04. Favorite color: Brown

05. Relationship status:Single0

6. Ideal mate:

07. Turn-ons:-

08. Favorite food:Italian food

09. Crushes:No one

10. Favorite music:dub step

11. Biggest fear: Dogs

12. Biggest fantasy:-

13. Bad habits:-

14. Biggest regret:-

15. Best kept secrets:No

16. Last thought:I just broke my nails caring that bag 

17. Worst romantic experience:-

18. Biggest insecurity:-

19. Weapon of choice:Knife

20. Role Model:  Elly the snow cat

01. Full name: Abigail

02. Best friend:-

03. Sexuality:Aromantic

04. Favorite color: Red

05. Relationship status:-

06. Ideal mate:-

07. Turn-ons:-

08. Favorite food:meat

09. Crushes:-

10. Favorite music:dub step11. 

Biggest fear: Death

12. Biggest fantasy:-

13. Bad habits:Killing

14. Biggest regret:-

15. Best kept secrets:Yes

16. Last thought:I love snow somuch

 17. Worst romantic experience:-

18. Biggest insecurity:-

19. Weapon of choice:Sword

20. Role Model: -

01. Full name:  Feliciano the intoxicated cat

02. Best friend:Sweet Lime

03. Sexuality:Asexual/Aromantic

04. Favorite color: Purple

05. Relationship status:Single

06. Ideal mate:-

07. Turn-ons:-

08. Favorite food:Italian food

09. Crushes:No one

10. Favorite music:dub step

11. Biggest fear: -

12. Biggest fantasy:-

13. Bad habits:Killing

14. Biggest regret:-

15. Best kept secrets:No

16. Last thought:It is just a job for us

17. Worst romantic experience:-

18. Biggest insecurity:-

19. Weapon of choice:Sword

20. Role Model:  Clause the assassin king

01. Full name:  Phoebe the blue fox

02. Best friend:her brother

03. Sexuality:Bisexual

04. Favorite color: Pink

05. Relationship status:Single

06. Ideal mate:-

07. Turn-ons:-

08. Favorite food:-

09. Crushes:No one

10. Favorite music:Clasic music

11. Biggest fear: Sea/Ocean

12. Biggest fantasy:-

13. Bad habits:cutting herself in the kitchen

14. Biggest regret:Not being able to save her mother

15. Best kept secrets:Yes

16. Last thought:How awful... Oh no, the end of the world for a drama queen

17. Worst romantic experience:-

18. Biggest insecurity:her cat ears

9. Weapon of choice:arrows

20. Role Model: Bella the cat

01. Full name:   Angelica the cosmic angel

02. Best friend:Milky way

03. Sexuality:Asexual

04. Favorite color: yellow

05. Relationship status:Single

06. Ideal mate:-

07. Turn-ons:-

08. Favorite food:-

09. Crushes:No one

10. Favorite music:tango

11. Biggest fear: -

12. Biggest fantasy:-

13. Bad habits:-

14. Biggest regret:-

5. Best kept secrets:No

16. Last thought:This place is awful and smells terrible

17. Worst romantic experience:-

18. Biggest insecurity:-

19. Weapon of choice:Sword

20. Role Model: Miya the rightful angel

Nytrillia the forgotten doll vessel 🎊June 5🎊

Harriet the demon bunny girl 🎊June 9🎊

Claudia Clondie 🎊June 14🎊

Vulpinio the mafia cat 🎊June 22🎊

Angela the ghost bride 🎊July 9 🎊

[mellifluouaamor]

⍣ | A STEPMOTHER'S MÄRCHEN

JEREMY VON NEUSCHWANSTEIN

NORA VON NÜRNBERG

ㅤ

⍣ | ACADEMY’S UNDERCOVER PROFESSOR

LUDGER CHELSEA

ㅤ

⍣ | BEWARE OF THE VILLAINESS

JACK FORTON

JAKE PODEBRAT

when he has a crush on you (headcanons; gn!reader)

he catches you looking at his photos (headcanons; gn!reader)

MIGEN FORTON

NINE FORTON

he catches you looking at his photos (headcanons; gn!reader)

ㅤ

⍣ | DEATH IS THE ONLY ENDING FOR THE VILLAINESS

CALLISTO REGULUS

you ask him, "what if i suddenly disappeared one day?" (headcanons; gn!reader)

DERRICK ECKART

he gets isekai'd into your world (headcanons; gn!reader)

ECKLES

you ask him, "what if i suddenly disappeared one day?" (headcanons; gn!reader)

REYNOLD ECKART

VINTER VERDANDI

ㅤ

⍣ | FATHER, I DON'T WANT THIS MARRIAGE!

REGIS ADRI FLOYEN

general fluff headcanons (gn!reader)

MAXIMILIAN KASIN ASHET

ㅤ

⍣ | I HAVE BECOME THE HERO'S RIVAL

BENJAMIN LEMBERG

FELIX CHAMBERLAIN

ㅤ

⍣ | IF YOU TOUCH MY BROTHER, YOU'RE ALL DEAD

ASTER BROWN

ASTERION ROXBURGH

GLENN HOFFEN

JACK BROWN

ROSALITE ROXBURGH

ㅤ

⍣ | INTO THE LIGHT ONCE AGAIN

BALMORE BION

ISIS DE ELMIR

courting headcanons (gn!reader)

LUMINAS

ㅤ

⍣ | THE GREATEST ESTATE DEVELOPER

LLOYD FRONTERA

JAVIER ASRAHAN

ㅤ

⍣ | THE STRONGEST CHARACTERS IN THE WORLD ARE OBSESSED WITH ME

ALEXANDER DUNCAN MICHELIO

CEDRIC

HIKAN PESTEROS

ㅤ

⍣ | THE VILLAINESS IS A MARIONETTE

RAPHAEL KEDREY

REZEF HILL

courting headcanons (gn!reader)

JANNON EVANS

ㅤ

⍣ | THE VILLAINESS REVERSES THE HOURGLASS

ASTEROPE FRANZ (ASHER)

LOHAN OF CROA

OSCAR FREDERICK

ㅤ

⍣ | THE WAY TO PROTECT THE FEMALE LEAD'S OLDER BROTHER

CASSIS PEDELIAN

DION AGRICHE

with a sweet and gentle darling (headcanons; fem!reader)

his reaction to you getting kidnapped (headcanons; gn!reader)

JEREMY AGRICHE

with a sweet and gentle darling (headcanons; fem!reader)

his reaction to you getting kidnapped (headcanons; gn!reader)

LANTE AGRICHE

ROXANA AGRICHE

ㅤ

⍣ | THE YOUNGEST PRINCESS

RODGO CARL HYPERION

HELRAD RODGO HYPERION

ROSIEL EMELITA HYPERION

ㅤ

⍣ | TRASH OF THE COUNT'S FAMILY

CALE HENITUSE

ㅤ

⍣ | WHO MADE ME A PRINCESS

ANASTACIUS DE ALGER OBELIA

CLAUDE DE ALGER OBELIA

FELIX ROBANE

IJEKIEL ALPHEUS

courting headcanons (gn!reader)

LUCAS

you tease him by stopping each time you're about to kiss him (scenario; gn!reader)

[shifting4mels]

Kingdom Lumina DR

Lumina gave me very lunar vibes, so it was the moon to my neighbouring kingdom, Solstice. My name is Princess Victoria Evercrest, daughter of Queen Catherine and King Edward III. I have one younger sister named Emory. My subjects call me "Princess Perfect" because I have blonde hair and blue eyes, which is the beauty standard in my kingdom (i literally just wanted to be the beauty standard HAHA). My father has blond hair, but green eyes, and my mother has brown hair and blue eyes. I'm 18 btw(like in my or). Below is a picture of me.

Kingdom Lumina and Kingdom Solstice were friendly and like this 🤞. That is until King Edward III died. King Henry of Solstice was all like "guys you can't just not have a king!! have your oldest daughter marry my oldest son and then make them king and queen" (as if remarrying doesn't exist). I really don't wanna marry a man named Geoffrey(pronounced joff ree), and also Geoffrey is kinda a dick. He only thinks for himself and is very narcissistic. Also, he is 27. (I'm thinking of making him older hence why me not really being into him bc 27 is perfectly fine for me to like)

Luckily for me, I hate the patriarchy, so i run away and i find myself in with the commoners. I meet this HANDSOME BEAUTIFUL SEXY man named Bryan (Dechart). He is 25, and is an intp. (i'm an entj in this)

World building is hard, but I have to do a bit of that for this DR.

[cursed-herbalist]

𝓞𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓪 '𝓞𝓭𝓮' 𝓛𝓲𝓵𝓲𝓪𝓷 𝓐𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂

Gryffindor • Pureblood • British/German • Aries • ENFJ • Investigative Journalist • Activist

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A/N: If your Ocs want to be friends with Ode hmu!

—

Name: Odessa Lilian Avery

Meaning: Greek origin meaning wrathful; Odessa is the feminine version of Odysseus, which has taken on the connotative meaning of wandering, travelling adventure in honour of the famous voyage in the Odyssey. Lilian is of Latin origin meaning 'lily' or 'purity'.

Nicknames: Ode, Lily

Birthdate: 30th March 1889 (4:18 AM)

Zodiac Sign: Aries Sun, Pisces Moon, Aquarius Rising

Personality Type (MBTI): ENFJ

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Gender Identity: Witch (she/her)

Blood-Status: Pureblood

Nationality: British/German

Residence: London, England

Hometown: Upper Flagley (Wizarding Town) / Doncaster, Yorkshire, England

Languages: English, French, Latin

Physical Appearance

Face Claim: Carey Mulligan

Hair: brown (sometimes blonde)

Eyes: brown

Height: 160cm

Weight: 46kg

Body Type: fairly delicate, smol

Skin Tone: fair

Distinguishing Marks (scars, birthmarks, etc.): tbd

Accent: Yorkshire/RP British mix

What do they carry on them?: notebook, wand, a charming smile and witty words

Family

Father: Osiris Dorian Avery - Former British Ambassador to Germany, now a British Delegate in the International Confederation of Wizards. Very traditional and strict. Can get very angry and intimidating. Expects excellence and exquisite behaviour from his children at all times. His relationship with his children is rather complicated.

fc: Thomas Kretschmann

Mother: Cynthia Avery née Silberstein - Housewife. German. Besties with Helena Enfield. Likes to gossip and is a bit judgy. Throwing lavish parties makes her happy. Always hoped for Melv and Ode to end up together and lowkey plotted things for them to get closer and interact. Loves her children dearly and really enjoys being a mother but doesn’t want to cross her husband. Was utterly shocked when Ode eloped with Kit. Was even more shocked when Melv still wanted to marry her after that.

fc: Michelle Williams

Older brother: Lunas Griffin Avery (1887) - Outwardly plagued by a resting bitch face, Lunas does have a soft side – even if it's usually overshadowed by a bit of an attitude. Due to his job as an Auror (Infiltration Specialist), he has a habit of disappearing without notice. This is one of the reasons why Ode and her brother have a complicated relationship. However, they still care deeply about each other and more often than not she finds herself worrying about his safety, despite their differences. Lunas, in turn, is constantly torn between the wish to protect Ode and the urge to please his father. He, indeed, is his father's favourite but the fondness is not mutual and despite Ode's 'scandalous' elopement, he still kept in touch with her after it.

fc: Volker Bruch

Younger sister: Ione Lumina Avery (1893) - Precious Ione had always been scared of their father. She preferred to keep her nose buried in a book, as it helped block out her surroundings. Even if she admired her sister Odessa for her uprightness, she much rather preferred to stay quiet about most matters. Gifted with a big imagination she liked to escape the world with art.

fc: Saskia Rosendahl

Backstory

Born into a strict pure-blood family, Ode was raised to be a perfect, obedient girl. Her temper and wits, however, were not to be easily controlled. From a young age, she started questioning her family's values and behaviour, often getting scolded for her 'too lenient' yet 'rebellious' nature.

This, especially, showed when her best friend, Kit, was announced to lack magical abilities. Despite her parents believing it to be shameful and forbidding her from any contact with him, the two kids would sneak out to meet each other regardless. Merlin forbid, she would not abandon her best friend.

The disdain for her family grew bigger with each year that passed yet she still tried to keep up the facade in social situations. Desperate to get away and seek independence, she applied for a job at the Daily Prophet after graduating from Hogwarts and quickly found her calling in investigative journalism. She'd occasionally dabble in activism for squib and women's rights, sometimes, even getting in trouble because of it. Luckily, her childhood 'friend', Melv would always bail her out. To her surprise, they sometimes found themselves working together, even landing them on the front page of the newspapers once.

At the age of twenty, she decided to move to London—mainly to put a good amount of distance between her and her parents. Little did she know she'd run into her childhood friend Kit there after years of scarce contact. Despite her wrath about him not writing as often as she would've liked, they quickly rekindled their relationship and got married a few months after – twins soon followed.

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Magic

House: Gryffindor

Best Class: History of Magic, Charms

Worst Class: Astronomy

Quidditch: -

Clubs: -

Wand: Beech Wood, Pheonix Core, 13 1/2” Length, Slightly Yielding Flexibility

➔ The true match for a beech wand will be, if young, wise beyond his or her years, and if full-grown, rich in understanding and experience. Beech wands perform very weakly for the narrow-minded and intolerant. Such wizards and witches, having obtained a beech wand without having been suitably matched (yet coveting this most desirable, richly hued and highly prized wand wood), have often presented themselves at the homes of learned wandmakers such as myself, demanding to know the reason for their handsome wand’s lack of power. When properly matched, the beech wand is capable of a subtlety and artistry rarely seen in any other wood, hence its lustrous reputation.

Animagus: –

Boggart: her trapped in a golden cage

Riddikulus: bars turn into liquorice and she eats her way out

Patronus: Mockingjay

Patronus Memory: teenage Kit climbing up the trellis near her window to get to her room without anyone noticing and them staying up all night plotting their ‘escape’; later Melv and her waltzing through their living room

Mirror of Erised: tbd

Amortentia (what she smells like): white nougat, parchment, a hint of ink, irises

Amortentia (what she smells): tbd

Magical Abilities: -

Career

11–17: Student at Hogwarts 18–21: Journalist/Reporter for the Daily Prophet 22-?: Investigative Journalist

Always: activist for social change

Personality & Attitude

Personality: Ode is energetic yet mild-mannered. She has strong believes and is quick to speak her mind and stick up for others – and often gets in trouble because of it. Despite her fiery temperament, Ode values kindness and integrity above anything else and certainly knows how to charm people. When her curiosity takes over, she often finds herself in precarious situations, yet she usually finds a way out of it, with or without the help of others.

Ode is incredibly confident, courageous and touchingly earnest yet not afraid of vulnerability. Although her conviction is strong enough to help her bounce back from setbacks and criticism, it’s impossible for her to hide her pain, bewilderment and disappointment. She can both aggravate people and win them over with ease, usually both at the same time.

Ode simply loves to absorb herself in her personal goals, fearing that if she allows others to distract her from her vision, she might never attain it.

Strengths: open-minded, empathetic, good with words/convincing, fiercely charming, observant

Weaknesses: emotional, sometimes too honest, stubborn

Stressors: mistreatment of others, her family, Mystie, injustice, big/heavy doors (has a hard time opening them)

Comfort: books, Kit/Melv, an interesting conversation, dancing, sitting by the window with a warm cup of tea, dipping her feet into water (/running along the shoreline)

Priorities: shaping a better world for everyone, honesty, kindness, her children, her siblings, Kit and later Melv

Favourites

Colours: autumn colours

Food: White Nougat (nothing makes her happier XD) and Everlasting Syllabub

Drink: Chamomile tea

Flowers: Iris, Chamomile

Books: Anne of the Island; basically anything political and challenging the status-quo

Weather: sunny and warm, preferably with clouds to watch

Hobbies: reading, chess, discussing political issues, activism, researching/gathering information, writing

Style: normal upper/middle-class attire; does like to wear pants and look ‘business’ (le cool chic, if ya know what I mean)

Most valued possessions: Kit's not-too-frequent letters, more tbd

Relationships

Significant Other/Love Interest:

Christopher 'Kit' Enfiled @potionboy3 - Ode has had feelings for Kit since they were children yet Kit only started returning them after his break from serving at the front lines. After his return, the two quickly rekindled their relationship and got married a few months after—much to her family's dismay. Her family which believed him to be below her status (for being a Squib) was quick to abandon her because of it. Little did she know that Kit's heart belonged to someone else and would soon die a tragic death.

Melvyn 'Melv' Enfield @potionboy3 - Melv is Kit's older brother and has been in love with Ode since their childhood. Unfortunately, she only seemed to have eyes for his younger brother. Despite their differences and frequent arguing, they made a good team. And, for some reason, Melv was always there when she needed him. Even if she hated to admit it, she was glad he was around.

The two got closer after Kit's death as Melv offered her support when she most needed it and it quickly resulted in growing feelings and happy marriage.

Friends: Open for friendships :)

Joel Mayfair @magicallymalted - Fellow (younger) Gryffindor. Relationship to be determined. They, at least, know of each other lmao

Rivals:

Mysteria ‘Mystie’ Charmworth - Mystie and Ode used to be best friends until Mystie broke off their friendship. Jealous of Ode and Melv’s feelings for her she makes life for both a living hell.

Children:

Ottilie ‘Ottie’ Ariette Enfield - Kit and Ode's daughter. More tbd. fc: Zoey Deutch

Oaklan 'Oak' Christopher Enfield - Kit and Ode’s son and Otie’s twin. More tbd. fc: Dylan Arnold

Headcanons & MISC:

has gotten in trouble for minor offences (in the name of activism or for research); luckily Melv always bailed her out (thanks babe <3)

*glares* 'fight me.'

loves men with moustaches

anonymously publishes papers every now and then, criticising social issues

Angry Ode ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

[princessamyrose87]

knuckles spin-off series cast

Vector the Crocodile - Bruce Campbell, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Micheal B. Jordan, Seth rogen

Espio the Chameleon - Daisuke Tsuji, l.j. benet

Charmy Bee - Colleen o'Shaughnessey, Jacob Tremblay

Mighty The Armadillo - Micheal Mando, Micheal B. Jordan, Brady noon

Ray The flying squirrel - Tara Strong, Hudson Meek

Fang The Sniper - John Patrick Lowrie, Hugh Jackman, Karl Urban,

Bean The Dynamite - Aziz Ansari, Steven Ogg

Chief Pachacamac - Danny Trejo Sofía

Tikal the Echidna - Díana Bermudez, Ana de la Reguera, Selene Luna, Sofía Espinosa, Isabela Merced, Salma Hayek, Nisa Gunduz

E-102 Gamma - Corey Burton

Wendy Witchcart - Mia Goth, Shohreh Aghdashloo, Harriet Samson Harris

Battle Kukku XV - Nolan North

Speedy XVI - Maria Bakalova

Dr. Fukurokov - Mark Ivanar

Breezie The Hedgehog - Regina King, Janelle Monáe, Jena Malone, Pollyanna McIntosh

Vanilla The Rabbit - Maggie Robertson

Amy Rose - Kimiko Glenn, Anna kendrick

Big The Cat - Dave Fennoy, Patrick Warburton, Micheal B Jordan, Kevin Chamberlin

Cream the Rabbit - Melissa Hutchison, sabrina glow

Sticks the Badger - Margot Robbie, Paola Lázaro

Gerald Kintobor - Ron Perlman

Maria Kintobor - Mkeena Grace

Commander Abraham Tower - Frank Anthony Grillo

Subject Shadow The Hedgehog (Terios Kintobor) - (Paramount stated they want an A-list celebrity to voice Shadow) Keanu Reeves, Robert Pattinson, Pedro Pascal, Oscar Isaac, Micheal B Jordan

Rouge The Bat - Chloé Hollings, Marion Cotillard, Mélanie Laurent, Camille Cottin, Jordana Lajoie, Scarlett johansson

Tom Wachowski’s father - Bob Odinkirk, Dustin Hoffman, Bill Murray, Micheal Keaton, Kurt Russell, John Goodman

Metal Sonic - Ben Schwartz(robotic filter)

E-123 Omega - Micheal B Jordan, Terry Crews, Jon Bernthal

Hazard The Bio-Lizard (Marzanna Kintobor) - Ivana Miličević

Void TrapDark - Jude Law, Dane DeHaan, Gerald Way, Scott Williams, Freddie Highmore,

Lumina Flowlight - Tabitha St. Germain

Blaze’s Mother - Janina Gavankar, Sakina Jaffrey

Blaze The Cat (Indian/British accent) - Priyanka Chopra, Devika Bhise, Varada Sethu, Simone Ashley, Ulka Simone Mohanty, Natasha Chandel

Marine the Raccoon - Sia, Katie Bergin, Bella Heathcote, Isla Lang Fisher, Rylee Alazraqui, Kendal Rae

Blaze’s Rival: Frost The Axotol(example)- Michelle Yeoh, Fala Chen, Antony Starr

Jet’s Father - Matt Ryan, Iwan Rheon

Jet The Hawk - Tony Hawk, Aaron Paul, Christopher Mintz-Plasse, Dante Basco, Ken Jeong, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Jimmy O. Yang

Wave The Swallow - Sarah Margaret Qualley

Storm the Albatross (pacific, Oceania) - Dave Batista, Taylor Wily

Emerl The Gizoid - Augus Imrie, Kendal Rae,

Clutch The Possum - Micheal Rooker, Benjamin Byron Davis, Robert Allen Wiethoff

Tangle The Lemur - Lauren Keke Palmer, Brenda Song

Whisper The Wolf - Stefanie Joosten, Ana de Armas

Mimic The Octopus - Richard Colin Brake

Doctor Starline - Troy Baker, Hugh Grant,

Starline’s Love interest and partner -

Rough and Tumble the Skunks - Will Ferrell and John C. Reily, Jordan Peele and Keegan-Michael Key

Surge The Tenrec - Rachel Bloom, AJ Michalka

Kitsunami The Fennec Fox - Michael Cera, Kyle McCarley

Zavok - Christopher Judge, John Cena, Jon Bernthal

Master Zik - Frank Oz, Randall Duk Kim, Dustin Hoffman

Zeena -Mindy Kaling

Zor - Jaeden Martell, Dane DeHaan, Gerald Way

Zazz - Danny Brown,

Zomom - T.J. Miller

Black Doom -

,Keith David https://youtu.be/9LmOwEfPHUo

, Jackie Earle Haley - https://youtu.be/sF8zxctevXc

, Jon Bernthal - https://youtu.be/sDp4AuNen0Y

, Sean Schemmel -

, Ray Porter - https://youtu.be/aR8p4DIpxxE

,Karl Urban - https://youtu.be/ccF3uvpJ96I

Eclipse The Darkling - Norman Reedus

Callisto The Darkling - Carrie-Anne Moss

Dark Oak - Jeremy Irons

Black Narcissus - Angelina Jolie

Pala Bayleaf - John Leguizamo

Yellow Zelkova - Terry Crews

Red Pine - Pat Casey or Josh Miller

Cosmo The Seedrian - Carol Anne Day, Liliana Mumy

Lyric The Ancient(Owl like Longclaw) - Jackie Earle Haley

Johnny Lightfoot - Taron Egerton

Tekno The Canary - Paula Burrows

Porker Lewis - John Boyega, Daniel Radcliffe

Shorty “Shortfuse” The Cybernik - Cillian Murphy, Barry Sloane

Ebony The Cat - Gratiela Brancusi

Sonia The Hedgehog - Kiernan Shipka, Evan Rachel Wood, Isabella Merced, Jena Malone

Manic The Hedgehog - Joe Keery

Sally Acorn - Zendaya Maree Stoermer Coleman

Antoine D’Coolette - Tomer Capone, Bradley Cooper(hes fluent in French)

Bunnie Rabbot - Alex McKenna

Rotor The “Boomer” Walrus - John Cena

Nicole The Holo-Lynx - Ashly Burch

Lupe The Wolf - Amber Midthunder

Dulcy The Dragon - America Ferrera

Chip - Tom Holland, Freddie Highmore

Professor Dillion Pickle - Ian McKellen

Imperator Ix - Gary Oldman

Shade The Echidna - Lady Gaga

Infinite The Jackal - Kit Harington, Jon Bernthal

Silver The Hedgehog - Steven Yeun

Gold The Tenrec - Simone Ashley

Professor Von Schlemmer - Matthias Schweighöfer

Dr. Negan Robotnik a.k.a Eggman Neo - J.K. Simmons, Jeffery Dean Morgan, Giancarlo Esposito, Bryan Cranston, Pedro Pascal

Dr. Grimer Wormtongue - Ian McShane, Jackie Earle Haley

Chris thorndyke - Graham Verchere

Frost the hobidon - Dakota lotus

Juliet suter - Sydney Scotia

Antia/tania - Cassie glow

Perci - Stephanie lemelin

Preteen bokkun - Brett Gray

Park ranger - Patrick Warburton

Ashe - peyton r. perrine iii

Burst wisp - cherami Leigh

Uncle Charles - David Lengel

Bernadette - Melanie Zanetti

[kiraspirayukimuras]

⋆ gong jun , 55, cis man, he/him — did you see sorath brightwhisper  walking down main street ? the tabloids say that the malakim is known to be intelligent and reserved, but who knows if that’s true. the personal body guard seems to fit the vibe of Broken mirror that doesn't show the true relection, a diary whose lock is broken, windblown hair thats hard to decipher whether its sylish or unkempt ⁑ * solaria lightspell's personal guard and secret crush connection

Character Chart 

Character’s full name:  Sorath Brightwhisper

Reason or meaning of name: One of them was going to be a protector so to play it safe both have guardian names

Character’s nickname: Andros (his twin brother’s name)

Birth date:5/22/1968

Physical appearance

Age: 55

Faceclaim: Gong Jun

Height: 6’1

Eye color: brown

Distinguishing marks: self inflected scar on right eyebrow, birthmark in the shape on a cloud on the small of wrist (hides it) 

Predominant features: freckles (also hidden with makeup)

Hair color: light brown but dyed it black

Usual fashion of dress: uniform of the personal guard, when he’s not wearing he’s wearing his brothers clothing which involves various articles of gaudy clothing. Sora is a more graphic tee and straight jeans kinda not wanting to draw attention

Personality

Good personality traits: wise, compassionate,  adaptable, clear-headed, creative

Bad personality traits: weak-willed, tensed, timid, stubborn, tempermental

Character’s greatest fear: being seen as the coward he is and forever in hsi brothers shadows

Past

Hometown:Lumina Heights

Type of childhood:Its okay for someone who got compared to his twin a lot

Education: training academy in lumina heights

Religion: Polytheistic

Present 

Current location: In the same quarters approximate to Solaria’s location

Currently living with: no one

Occupation: Protector/Personal Bodyguard, sometimes bakes goods if someone is in a pitch

Finances: Comfortable…

        Habits

Hobbies:  baking (how he wishes it wasn’t so), trying new sourdough recipes, sometimes listens to coffee podcasts, 

Mannerisms: Looking away when he’s nervous, pinching the tips of his fingers to keep calm

Peculiarities: Forced change in posture, forced change in voice speaking in a lower tenor, intimidating andros in a caricature manner that few fail to understand

The Story: TDLR; Prince and the Pauper Antics

Being born to a family of malakim, the route was to be expected. There were twins born, said to be a blessing from Vitalis. But like the tail of romulus and remus, only one twin would have been the guardian to represent the brightwhisper clan and it was the strong one the one who wasn’t afraid to speak his mind

That was Andros…..Sorra was his polar opposite 

Sora was the meek twin compared to Andros. He was the one who was marginally worse at fighting and bravery, essentially the whisper in brightwhisper 

However Sora had something Andros didn’t…dedication to a job

It started simple one afternoon, when Andros didn’t feel like training. So he told the then very identical twin to do a favor. Go to training

Sora was shocked but decided it was the right thing to do. It was only once right

However Andros asked again and became once a week rather than one time. Sora would have said something but being the meek one he opted not to. 

Age did eventually slightly differentiate the two Andros opting to get tattoos and piercings while Sora just gained a pair of glasses and lighter hair. Surely Andros would have known better than to recruit Sora

Wrong, he just told Sora to wear contacts and tuck his hair in a cap, as he had a special mission (spoiler it was Andros going out) 

It wasn’t that Andros was ungrateful but he was rethinking his own path. He even compensated his brother with various sweets and cookbooks after. 

And Andros for what it was worth had a knack for being a protector

It seemed simple until Andros was hired by the Lightspells

Andros was not as disciplined as Sorra, his own regimen didn’t exactly match the Lightspells and to be quite frank he had his own matters in another court with his mate

Thats when Andros gave Sora an offer he couldn’t refuse, to do this and Andros will make sure to tell their parents the truth and let Sora keep all the money 

Sora reluctantly accepted and was dragged by his brother to the barbershop in an attempt to make Sora look more like Andros. Andros made sure he pulled all the stops to make sure Sora can play his part 

The day came and it almost went too well. As Sora saw Solaria and was taken aback by her beauty but had to act nonchalant as Andros would

As for Andros, Sorra tried to call him and he never picked up. Sora still thinka about Andros 

Sorra was still Sorra….even under a different name right?

Connections

Baking friends

Anyone in the fae court who can tell Sora is a crappy liar 

Friends who knew Sorra before this debacle 

Friends who knew Andros before this debacle and just made eye contact and knew that aint Andros 

Rivals 

Someone who tells him: hey I know Andros is your brother but dude come on!!!

Malakim to give him body guard advice (Sorra is an okay fighter and Andros gave him extra pointers but not that good) 

Everything really

[oonaluna-art]

Inktober 2022 Day 2!

“Crack in the Mirror” inspired by the Angstober 2022 Prompt List.

This composition is based on characters from a webcomic I tried making in my teens. (I’m never going to finish the project, but the characters have a special place in my heart.) The protagonist, Lumina, didn’t exactly import only her own soul into her new body.

—

[My Ko-Fi] [Patreon] [RedBubble]

[awlimagines]

Their secret talents. Part Two

GUSTAFA - MIMICRY

It was the beginning of a new season, which meant you were busy planting seeds. Gustafa had been at the field’s edge keeping you company, but he drifted away as you became absorbed in work. You splashed water over the last of the planted seeds. You heard both sheep bleating as you wiped the sweat from your brow. The duet gave you pause. You only owned one sheep, and the new one won’t arrive until tomorrow. Confused, you spun around to observe your livestock. 

“That’s you?” you asked Gustafa as he perfectly replicated your sheep’s baa back to him. 

“Yeah, pretty groovy, isn’t it?” the musician smiled. 

“What else can you do?” 

You spent the rest of your day following Gustafa in awe. He could mimic your cow, horse, and dog on your farm. Gustafa replicated the chirps of songbirds, the hoot of an owl, and the angry cries of seagulls. When you asked if it was only animals, Gustafa demonstrated his repertoire of phone notifications. 

“Can you sound like me?” 

“Ah, no. I can’t do people’s voices,” Gustafa watched as your excitement slipped. He smiled gently and offered you another nugget, “I can copy accents pretty well, though.”

LUMINA - SLEIGHT OF HAND

“Your hands are so attractive,” you observed as you sat beside Lumina on the piano bench. “They’re just so nimble and graceful over the keys.” 

The young woman giggled before asking, “Would you like to see something different?” 

When you nodded, the elegant Lumina led you from the piano and upstairs to her bedroom. Your eyebrow raised in curiosity as Lumina locked the door behind the two of you. She guided you to a seat before crawling beneath her bed and pulling out an old case. Her brown eyes fixed on yours as Lumina tossed her long hair back over her shoulder. 

“You can’t tell Aunt Romana,” she swore you to secrecy before instructing you to close your eyes. “Okay, you can open them.” 

As you blinked your eyes open, you could see that Lumina now wore a black cape around her shoulders. She hesitated only a moment before leaning toward you to pull a coin from your ear. At your applause, the young woman’s confidence soared. She next pulled a stream of colorful squares from her empty hands. You sat enthralled as Lumina showed multiple card tricks. She gave an awkward half-bow as she finished, and you applauded.

“That was astounding! Why can’t Romana know?” 

“She didn’t like it when I was younger. Magic and sleight of hand was a hobby of my dad’s, and I think it made her sad to think of my parents,” Lumina explained. 

You intently listened as she recounted sneaking around with Rock to purchase the materials from Van. Lumina was excited to tell you about holding Rock’s parents and Sebastian captive to show the tricks as she learned them. Her eyes widened in shock when you encased her in a hug as Lumina gushed about having something to connect her with both her parents.

MARLIN/MATTHEW - WHITTLING

“What’s that?” you asked, peering over Matthew’s shoulder. 

Matthew jumped at your words, thankfully avoiding knicking himself with the blade he held. The wooden figure in his hand almost looked like an apple. Unlike the apples on your farm, his had tiny little nubs for hands and feet. 

“It’s a Pomme Pomme,” the man mumbled. 

“I’m not familiar with that. What is it?” you asked. 

When you lingered, smiling, Matthew sighed and explained more. He and his friends used to play a fantasy tabletop role-playing game in the city called Rune Factory. Matthew made the monsters for their boards before he moved. The group was starting a new campaign and reached out to him for some of the lower-level monsters. Pomme Pomme was such a monster that looked like an abnormally large apple. 

“You carve all of them? Where did you learn that?” you gently pressed. 

“I learned from our grandpa. He used to make all sorts of animals,” Matthew explained. “It keeps my hands busy, so I like it.” 

You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face as Matthew reminisced stories of his youth. It was always pleasant to get Matthew talking about himself and his interests. When he finished telling you about the last campaign he played with his friends, the man shifted to lecturing you about how late it had gotten. 

“Could you show me some of the others you have before you walk me home?” 

The brunette man grumbled about you neglecting your farm to hang around but showed you inside. His ears turned pink as you praised the carved and painted figures, asking for details about each monster.

NAMI - FORGERY

“What’s going on?” Nami asked. 

Her voice caused you to glance over from frowning at the ledger. You had finally saved enough to add new facilities. Then, while Takakura was sick, you had the brilliant idea to fix the roof yourself after a typhoon. Now, with your dominant hand cast and hanging from a sling, you couldn’t sign off on the new building. 

“I just can’t sign for anything like this,” you lamented, waving at your arm.  

“Oh, is that all?” 

The redhead walked over to flip through the ledger, viewing past orders and signatures. After looking the writing over, Nami borrowed a pen and some scrap paper to replicate your signature. Your jaw dropped in shock at the exact match. If you hadn’t watched Nami sign your name, you wouldn’t have believed it to be anything other than your own. 

“How did you do that?” 

“My dad worked a lot, and if I wanted to go on school trips, I needed to be able to sign the forms. So, I learned how to forge his signature, and then friends wanted me to copy theirs,” Nami shrugged. 

“That’s amazing,” you muttered. 

With this, you could easily get the facilities, and the farm could grow while you recovered. And yet, your conscience nagged at you. You sighed before telling Nami you appreciated it but couldn’t deceive Takakura in such a way. The young woman nodded in understanding before offering a solution. 

“Thank you again, Nami. You’re a lifesaver,” you gushed over the ledger. Takakura’s neat, tiny script confirmed the order of a new facility via verbal confirmation. Nami’s signature stood proudly next to his own, certifying that a third party had witnessed the process. 

“It’s not that big of a deal,” she flushed.

ROCK - LIMBO SKATING

“Ugh, I’m so bored!” Rock whined next to you. 

For once, you couldn’t disagree with the blonde. Your meager supply of board games and the television had kept you and the young man occupied yesterday. After playing and replaying the games and the shows circling on an endless repeat of classics you had both seen a hundred times, nothing held appeal. Thinking of this being your entire season made you shiver in fear.

“Let’s make a trip to the city! It’s still early that we could return before it’s too late.”  

The idea immediately perked up your companion. Rock excitedly talked about everything the city offered for entertainment as the two of you bundled up to head out. As you crossed the mountain, you had the perfect idea. You would take Rock to do one of your favorite things while you lived in the city. He didn’t like not being in on the surprise. After numerous attempts and pouting, Rock perked up some when you promised he could pick a place to eat. 

“Here we are!” you proudly stated outside the roller rink. 

“Awesome! I haven’t done this in forever! Try not to be too jealous when I skate circles around you,” he smirked. 

You had expected Rock to be bluffing about his talent. That assumption had never been more wrong. As Rock breezed past you again, you slowly glided along the polished wood panels. The blonde could effortlessly weave through the crowd while going backward. An announcement came over the speakers asking people to exit, and you grabbed at Rock’s arm as he passed you again.  

“What is it?” 

“They said to get out of the rink unless you’re participating in limbo.” 

“Oh, watch me win then,” Rock winked before rolling from your reach. You watched in awe as the bar dipped lower and lower to the ground. Eventually, Rock stood against one other competitor. The young man flashed you a brilliant smile before lowering himself into a split, his face mere inches from the floor as he rolled beneath the pole. 

“That was amazing!” 

“Hahaha, yeah! You should see the other ways I’m flexible.”

[yanderedreamer]

❀ 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐇𝐖𝐀 ❀

❀ | A STEPMOTHER’S MÄRCHEN

JEREMY VON NEUSCHWANSTEIN

NORA VON NÜRNBERG

ㅤ

❀ | ACADEMY’S UNDERCOVER PROFESSOR

LUDGER CHELSEA

ㅤ

❀ | BEWARE OF THE VILLAINESS

JACK FORTON

JAKE PODEBRAT

MIGEN FORTON

NINE FORTON

ㅤ

❀ | DEATH IS THE ONLY ENDING FOR THE VILLAINESS

CALLISTO REGULUS

DERRICK ECKART

ECKLES

REYNOLD ECKART

VINTER VERDANDI

ㅤ

❀ | FATHER, I DON’T WANT THIS MARRIAGE!

REGIS ADRI FLOYEN

General yandere headcanons

MAXIMILIAN KASIN ASHET

ㅤ

❀ | I HAVE BECOME THE HERO’S RIVAL

BENJAMIN LEMBERG

FELIX CHAMBERLAIN

ㅤ

❀ | IF YOU TOUCH MY BROTHER, YOU’RE ALL DEAD

ASTER BROWN

ASTERION ROXBURGH

GLENN HOFFEN

JACK BROWN

ROSALITE ROXBURGH

ㅤ

❀ | INTO THE LIGHT ONCE AGAIN

BALMORE BION

ISIS DE ELMIR

General yandere headcanons

LUMINAS

ㅤ

❀ | THE GREATEST ESTATE DEVELOPER

LLOYD FRONTERA

JAVIER ASRAHAN

ㅤ

❀ | THE STRONGEST CHARACTERS IN THE WORLD ARE OBSESSED WITH ME

ALEXANDER DUNCAN MICHELIO

CEDRIC

HIKAN PESTEROS

ㅤ

❀ | THE VILLAINESS IS A MARIONETTE

RAPHAEL KEDREY

REZEF HILL

General yandere headcanons

JANNON EVANS

ㅤ

❀ | THE VILLAINESS REVERSES THE HOURGLASS

ASTEROPE FRANZ (ASHER)

LOHAN OF CROA

OSCAR FREDERICK

ㅤ

❀ | THE WAY TO PROTECT THE FEMALE LEAD’S OLDER BROTHER

CASSIS PEDELIAN

DION AGRICHE

JEREMY AGRICHE

LANT AGRICHE

ROXANA AGRICHE

ㅤ

❀ | THE YOUNGEST PRINCESS

RODGO CARL HYPERION

HELRAD RODGO HYPERION

ROSIEL EMELITA HYPERION

ㅤ

❀ | TRASH OF THE COUNT’S FAMILY

CALE HENITUSE

ㅤ

❀ | WHO MADE ME A PRINCESS

ANASTACIUS DE ALGER OBELIA

CLAUDE DE ALGER OBELIA

FELIX ROBANE

IJEKIEL ALPHEUS

General yandere headcanons

LUCAS

[kckatie]

I like a lot of different types of music, and I have been asked how I got goth. The answer is complex, but the short answer is that my love of the fashion came first, and then I got into the music later.

Being in my 60s, I grew up with the rock, pop, and folk of the day, and that continued into the 70s. I liked some of the darker, or more poignant music, though I think my general attitude is more optimistic. For instance, I really liked Simon and Garfunkel's I Am a Rock, the Stones' Paint It Black, the Pentangle's Hunting Song, and so on.

I never really got into punk. To quote someone in a movie, I liked the sound, but not the fury. I do like some punk songs, but it's not really my music.

But in the late 70s/early 80s two things happened. I liked some of the post-punk music that was coming out, and I really liked the fashion both they and the New Romantics had. I really liked the look of Alannah Currie in the Thompson Twins, did instance, and I liked Joan Jett's look and music (more rock, I know), and Siouxsie's look. I gave myself a deathhawk cut in the mid 80s, but didn't really have the self confidence in my mid 20s to carry it off. I grew it out.

But in the early 80s I took a serious detour into the British electric folk of the late 60s and 70s, and Steeleye Span remains my all-time favorite band. So though I heard the early goth music, it wasn't what I was mainly listening to in the 80s.

In the 90s I took another detour into "women's music", which is really lesbian music. I listened to Cris Williamson, Meg Christian, Ferron, Holly Near, and the like.

In the 2000s, I started going back to the music I had heard and liked, but hadn't focussed on from the 80s, the post-punk, goth, and indy rock of the day, and more recently some of the current goth music.

Ten years ago, I felt like I had the self confidence to start expressing myself the way I wanted, so I started coloring my natural brown hair blue, green, and purple. I've loved it, and more recently got a new deathhawk, which I love. I do have the self confidence to wear it this time.

And musically, I've really been getting back into that 80s music such as Joy Division, Bauhaus, Siouxsie and the Banshees, the Cure, Sisters of Mercy, and other goth rock bands, even if the bands don't really like the goth label, and I understand that. Only some of their material fits the goth label. I love Concrete Blonde, which certainly isn't a goth band, but was played at goth clubs back in the day, mainly because of Bloodletting, I think.

And I love Vision Video, Rosegarden Funeral Party, Deus Ex Lumina, Actors (and Leathers), and other recent bands that fit into the goth category. I tend to like goth rock and pop more than darkwave and coldwave, but I do like them as well.

(And yet, I still like 2000s pop bands like Camera Obscura, and Belle and Sebastian, and other music such as the Pogues. My musical tastes are broad.)

I don't know if this ramble answered the question, but it's a bit of my history.

[lovelessdagger]

Starlight - Chapter Thirty-Five: Apocalypse

Pairing: Din Djarin x OC

Rating: Mature

Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, Smut

WARNINGS: Explicit Language. Graphic Violence. Derealization. Gore.

Words: 7k

Summary: In the middle of it all, a metal surgical table, leather straps attached to the sides. A tray of scalpels to the left, powered down heart rate and oxygen monitors to the right. On top of the table however, the object to make Din’s heart stop.

Lumina.

Masterlist | Starlight Masterlist | AO3 | Prev | Next

An unsatisfactory thump echos on impact to the tile in the closet of a room. A single three strand braid, woven tight and thick lands at the heels of Lumina’s feet. What’s left is choppy and uneven, ending at the middle of her neck. Thick recycled air brushes against exposed skin, fresh cut ends poking. 

On the counter in front, a knife sets down continuing to vibrate until it too falls.

She’s asked, What do you remember? The question comes from behind, practiced posh accent as heavy as Dagobah’s humidity. 

An answer is foregone, the weight of her tongue unbearable.

“She’s in the void,” postulates a second, another female. After a pause, “The voltage should have fried her from the inside. She’s melted.”

“Perhaps,” the first agrees. A hand grips her chin, cold skin on her fever temptation. Again she’s asked: What do you remember?

She can’t answer, in the most physical sense. Her mouth opens to cough, phlegm spitting on the counter right before the mirror. She refuses contact with the vision of herself. She can imagine the sight well enough. She watches outside herself from the rafters of ventilation. She’s cold in her observation deck, wrapped in stiff wool blankets. They scratch until she earns a rash.

Ghost stands directly behind, officer Kane posed against the entryway. Lumina, in the middle of it all. The chair she sits on is old, wooden, creaking whenever weight shifts. They’ve each taken their turn of their snide remarks of her.

“She could have done miracles.”

“Wasted talent.”

“Maybe it’s for the best. Men would never listen to it. Not when she looks like that.”

“She used to be a whore.” 

“Figures.”

Ghost shoves the side of her head. She hates silence, rebellion, disrespect. She assumes a right to Lumina’s memory, whatever she believes to be left of it. Were she to possess the same gift, the discovery would be quite the disappointment.

Everything is there, amplified and muted. Faces turn to masks, bodies blurred shapes, familiar motions. She feels high. Lonely. Claustrophobic.

For the first time, Lumina misses company. A feeling, she assumes, to be unrequited. In vain and a sick need of self deprecation, she attempts to convince herself it is not human interaction, affection, that she longs for. Instead the scenery of green, whomever it comes with an unwilling side affect of association.

The light cruiser is cold and empty, lacking windows to space and oxygen stale. Green paradise filled her with warmth, breathed her anew. There are few places which resemble it. She has traveled more of the galaxy than most men could conceptualize. Nothing has felt so welcoming than the woods. Nothing except for—

Lumina locks eyes with herself, squinting like she were too bright. She sees brown above dark circles, odds and ends of overgrown and chopped layers sticking up from her scalp. She is a kiss away from death.

She might as well be staring at a holophoto of her childhood.

Not all memory is abstract. She remembers the sun warm on her skin, reflections of silver always to her left. She remembers waterfalls, three within close proximity, more further away. Six round creatures, brown and large. Tall grass, centuries old trees, blue lakes and lagoons. A manor as old as time, worn with love, forgotten as all things are. Lace, ivy, dedications to those already dead, a Senator and a Jedi.

She remembers flowers.

A wild field of blossoms in a haze. Decorating everything visible. Garlands, mosaics, art in all ways art can be. A single bouquet, separated from the rest. Large, dusty blue, white almost. Golden at its heart, bursting into five pointed ends.

A quick release of dawn, a flash of what could have been.

Lumina does not look like herself, and breaks contact lest she further her own destruction.

She’s forced to stand and dressed like a doll, bottom up. Looking as if she were poured into cloth.

Kane repeats her earlier sentiment.

Figures.

The corridor sounds crowded, heavy, angry. Sensation shoots up her nerves. Lumina faces Ghost, the second now complete with her mask. The red lit visor is burning. Kane coughs during their contest, chirps from her communicator duetting.

Her muscles relax with sweetness of a nearing end.

---

Bo-Katan, though only knowing Din Djarin for such a short time, is far too aware that something is wrong. Past the usuals of his gruffness and hostility, exacerbated tenfold, his mind is poisoned. The change is a palpable chemical.

Jedi, she thinks scoffing. If that.

Fennec Shand snaps in front of her helm. “Focus.”

Bo raises her left blaster, three shots into three Stormtroopers. She shrugs. The forces are less than she expected, and half seem far too unwilling than usual conscripts. Her energy is better suited elsewhere.

Or so she thinks. Fennec, clearly, has other ideas.

They play off another, her and Shand. It’s a miracle they hadn’t met sooner, all things considered. The galaxy is far too small for her liking. Everyone she knows—those still living—have sequestered themselves in the farthest corners, each lightyears apart. There’s no reason for this invisible golden string of sunlight to tie them all.

Snap.

“I’m focused.”

“Sure.”

“…You have no idea the position I’m in.” Bo speaks with a soft edge, cautious of the wandering ears of Koska and Dune.

“I have some.”

“No. You don’t know them like I did.” 

Do.

…Did.

“I’ve worked with them both. Him at the beginning. Her at the end.”

“Before or after?”

“Mainly before. Once after. Once after the after."

"Were you friends?"

"Friendly… eventually." Fennec stops first, hand raised, she points left. She whispers, "Were you?"

Dune takes care of the offenders. Her automatic blaster is insulting, but it serves its purpose. She’s more than helpful, a surprise given her avid protest on the rescue. She’s made her disdain for the girl—Lumina, abundantly clear. There are questions on everything, her hidden truths, intentions, trust, lack thereof.

Bo-Katan leaves the returns to Shand, she worries if she says anything it will be that she agrees. No one is sure of anything, least of all Din, and though Bo-Katan would never admit it, she takes his word above all else. Fett seems less concerned about whatever the girls sense of morality could be than her just being alive. Clones, blind allegiance seems built into their core. This Bo-Katan knows, it’s the rest who refuse to listen.

Dune has a point, but the thought of abandonment now makes Bo sick. Though Fennec doesn’t look to have any issues of her own. She and Fett are staunchly for this mission. Bo can’t determine yet whether Fennec’s loyalty is a stem from her partnership to Fett or her own will. She’s not sure she wants the answer.

Blindness is far easier than acute awareness of truth.

"I don't find making friends easy," Bo admits, remembering the question. “Or all together necessary." She nods to herself, following a vague memory. "Though she was the best of them."

“I mean were you friendly?" Fennec asks.

"No."

The crowd of them arrive to the corridor before the cell of Pershing’s instruction. "Make it quick," Dune says, flanking left with Koska to their lookout positions. "I'd rather not wait around."

"Becoming Sith soup isn't my idea of fun either," Bo says. “Keep comms open, call if you need backup.”

Crouched together at the end of the hall, her and Shand, stare at the lonely metal door. Two guards stand, one on each side. Fennec refuses to drop conversation, even as they take down the troopers and shoot them in the chest.

“What’s the plan?” she asks.

“If you were listening you would know I went over the plan—”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

Bo’s lips purse a thin line. She hadn’t thought that far. Dune’s objections rattle inside. “I don’t know.”

“Fett says you have a location.”

“Not exactly. It’s been years. Could be anywhere, and encrypted comms aren’t my definition of approachable.”

“You don’t think it’s smart.”

“You do?” Bo sighs. “I want what’s best.”

“For whom?”

”Fett doesn’t seem keen on it, why are you?”

Fennec shrugs. “Like I said. We were friendly.”

Bo-Katan takes the code cylinder from a fallen guard, careful to avoid the blood from his chest. They press against each side of the door on her insertion into the lockboard, blasters ready. On Bo-Katan’s word cage doors open, they enter with initiative. Depth is larger than anticipated, and the light from the hall does little. 

“Lumina?” she calls. “It is Bo-Katan and Fennec Shand. Are you here?” Her helmets opticals convert to night vision, a now green lit room empty. The settlement of a grave enters her gut, she doesn’t think and calls her name. 

“Lumina,” Fennec corrects.

Right.

The corner of the room coos. “What the hell?” Bo says, turning. “The kid is here.” The alien waddles to the rooms center, meeting the pair. He waves, and it’s now Bo sees the shattered lightbulb at their feet. Bo kneels, holding her hand out in caution. “Hey little guy. Remember me?”

“I don’t get it,” Fennec says. “If he’s here, where is she?”

“I don’t know. Let’s get to the bridge, there are cameras everywhere. We’ll find her.” She taps on her arm. “Marshal Dune, Koska, we’ve run into a situation. Is the path for entry to the bridge clear?”

The response is static.

“Marshal Dune, Koska. Do you read me?”

“Unfortunately your party seems to be indisposed right now.” The voice and its owner, concealed behind a black mask in the doorway. She removes the code cylinder from the lockboard, twirling it around leather gloved fingers. “Ni gana kil'yc ca'nara.” And before Bo-Katan can exclaim any senes of confusion, much less fear, her hand slams on the lockboard panel. “You’ll just get in my way.” 

The doors lock shut.

She shares a look with Fennec, one only meaning one thing. Marshal Dune was right. 

“Din Djarin,” Bo-Katan rushes into her communicator. “She’s not here. You’re being set up. You are not to engage with her under any circumstance. I repeat do not engage. Abort your mission and go to the bridge. I repeat, abort your mission immediately. Do. Not. Engage.”

---

To call Doctor Pershing’s assessment of the situation off would be an oversimplification. Part of Din Djarin wonders if they were given accurate schematics of Gideon’s light-cruiser at all. While he faced the privilege of no storm trooper confrontation, the same oddly applied in a noticeable lack of dark trooper.

He’d gone just as Pershing instructed. Second floor stern, port side. From there, exactly three hundred paces from the lift shaft to the brig, passing the holding bay on the way. Neither occurrence remained true. 

Three hundred paces becomes five hundred until the nearest door, and the fleet of dark troopers remained MIA. Instead, the corridor echos his presence and vents rumble. MSE droids skid past in the opposite direction with no alarm. 

Din debates turning around, returning to the lambda, or worse— comming Bo-Katan, admitting he is simply not capable of being alone. Alas, pride beats even the strongest of curses, and he continues.

Pershing’s code cylinder does not work on the first door, nor the second or third. In fact, Din inserts the breaker into every lockboard he sees seven times until function begins.

He concludes with the undeniable fact that Doctor Pershing had lied to them all. And if such were true, nothing could ever be predicted. Especially this:

The room which opens is not a brig, nor a standard holding cell by any stretch of the imagination. It is a laboratory. With glass cabinets along the wall and floor, vials of meticulously labeled liquids, tables and counters covered by wires and computer terminals. 

In the middle of it all, a metal surgical table, leather straps attached to the sides. A tray of scalpels to the left, powered down heart rate and oxygen monitors to the right. On top of the table however, the object to make Din’s heart stop. 

Lumina.

Sleeping, or worse but certainly incapacitated. One arm hanging off the edge. Her clothing torn apart. She looks feverish and pale, twitching every now and then. 

Din stills in the doorway longer than feasible to excuse as decision making. He wants it all, to scream and run and vomit and hide and rage and break every glass and not care what cuts. 

Bo-Katan’s voice unwillingly penetrates his thoughts, frantic. Din Djarin. She’s not here, you’re being— He cuts the connection and unwillingly enters. 

Lumina resembles her appearance after Nevarro far too greatly for Din to have any sense of comfort. He can hear the AZI unit whirl around the room, reading useless information of her brainwaves and abnormal vitals. He scans her heart rate, weary of the sensation she claimed it caused. Unconscious or not, angered or not, he cannot bring himself to harm her. The results are too low, dangerously close to snapping into cardiac arrest.

The body seems to have entered a self sufficient regulatory stasis, he hears the AZI say, bringing as much comfort now as it did then. 

That is to say, none at all.

“Lumina,” he whispers. “Wake up…” His protest is unconvincing and her body temperature drops rapidly. “Lumina wake up.” He takes her shoulders, lifting her with a cradled head, she is limp. “I know you can hear me.” He grows frantic, air from his nose hot. His visor fogs. “Lumina. We promised Fett we’d bring you alive, wake up.” He swears. 

“You’re a fucking hypocrite you know that? You make me promise I won’t die or do stupid shit and that’s all you ever do. I can’t keep watching you die. I won’t do it. I can’t do it anymore. I hate you. I hate you, I fucking hate you. You’re the worst thing that ever happened me. I wish I never met you. You’re selfish and entitled and you have to wake the fuck up so I can tell you that I—” He runs out of air, shaking his head. “I swear I’ll kill you if you die. I’ll do it right here. I’ll fucking kill you Lumina. Don’t make me. Please—please, Lu. Lu, Lu wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake—”

She stretches. The movement is slow and hardly recognizable but her muscles move and contract, she groans. She breathes through her mouth, heavy like wampas lay on her lungs. Her eyes blink open, soft gray in harsh light. 

She sits up, painfully assisted by him. Her vision doesn’t focus on any one thing, fluttering around the room, squinting at the bulbs above. 

Something breaks, a small incremental shatter in Din’s brain. He cannot help the itch, and has an unbearable urge to kiss her. “Sarad?”

It wouldn’t matter if Din had left her for a lifetime, there is no instance in which he could ever forget the sinking feeling of knowing something is horribly wrong. She’s dull and uncommitted. She flinches when realizing it is his hands that hold her. 

“Lumina?”

“I wouldn’t bother. She has the mental capacity of an infant in this state.”

Din turns. “Moff Gideon.”

“Hello, Din Djarin.” He enters the laboratory, hands behind his back, gaze unassuming. Crossing, he lands behind her. “We must stop meeting this way, it’s far too crass for my liking.”

“What did you do to her?”

“I assure you she has done it to herself. We presented her many opportunities to make the right choice, and yet she did not. Disobedience is not tolerated as I am sure you are aware.”

Din asks again, each word hit. “What did you do?”

“She was a troubled girl, and I’m afraid Dr. Pershing’s methods proved lackluster. I wouldn’t worry if I were you, while the mind flayer is not gentle, she retains no memory of it. Or, anything.”

“What?”

“Please,” Gideon scoffs. “Don’t pretend you care just to humor me. Have you forgotten what she’s done to you? The Child? She is the reason for so much—” his left shoulder twitches “—torment.”

“She’s still a person,” Din stutters.

“Is she? I understand how you could be fooled, so was I, but I assure you personhood is the least of her descriptors. Haven’t you wondered how she seems to be so… superhuman? Why she of all people carried such importance? I had Doctor Pershing conduct his own studies to discover this. She is a strandcast. Containing original Fett DNA, of which the Empire continues to hold total and unending proprietorial rights to. This thing isn’t human, it’s a rogue experiment. You see Din Djarin, this is my property, and it won’t be going anywhere.”

“I don’t care what she is,” Din says. “I made a promise. She’s coming with me.”

Gideon walks back, pacing the laboratory in long strides. “I should like you to meet someone.” He smiles with teeth, right hand waved out. “My personal guard.” From the corridor, a masked womanly figure dressed in black and red. Her description is of ill comparison to that of Pershing’s, and Din’s memory is far to hazy to recall the fateful day to perfection. The further he strays the less he knows. But she is shorter than he, thin but curved. He sees no skin. 

“I do not often make requests,” Gideon says. “But I do recommend you leave with haste. She is not one you’d like to cross.”

Perhaps it is instinct or a sickening need, a rotted habit within his psyche, but Din grabs Lumina’s hand. She flinches, he feels bile stir. “I’m not leaving without her, and I don’t fear you. Or her.” He ignores the pounding in his chest.

Gideon’s jaw tightens. “Very well,” he says. “You may take the thing. After all it was created once, she can be again. However, in doing so you forfeit ever seeing the Child again.” 

“What?”

“Fortunately, seeing as she provided all testing trials, he has remained an unnecessary nuisance, yet a necessary backup. If you’d rather correct his fate into hers, be my guest.”

A storm whips to the level of hurricanes inside of Din. 

“I urge you to think on your decision,” Gideon says. “Don’t forget the reason you’ve had to drag Bo-Katan and her crew of savages aboard.” He spares a look. “I hope you’re not surprised. I’d recognize Lady Kryze beyond the grave. I owe her my thanks. Without her, Mandalore and many many more of you Mandalorians may still be alive. Without her…” His right hand falls to his hip. Gideon takes hold of a sleek hilt. The device powers on, the sound angry, the light the darkest he’s seen. “…I would never have this.”

“Am I supposed to be impressed?”

“Are you so blind to yourself? This is the Darksaber,” Gideon says. Lumina’s head lifts as does the guard’s, staring mesmerized. “An ancient Mandalorian weapon, said to create kings. You see Din Djarin, whomever wields this sword rules Mandalore and all its people. This is why Bo-Katan has chosen to join you. Believe no other excuse she has said. She works for her own benefit.”

“I don’t care about the sword,” Din says. “Keep it. Die with it. I just want the kid… and her.”

“Is that right? Is that truly what you want? Her?” Din has not missed the growing migraines, their current reappearance penetrates with a force. “I’d like you to think, truly think of your desires.”

Fett wants her, he reminds himself. That’s reason enough. 

“She’s a malfunctioning asset created for destruction,” Gideon continues, turning off his saber. “The fact is hardwired into her programming, she can never change. Never provide you with a family, comfort, love. This model at least, is incapable, and in this state she has no idea who you are.”

Incapable. 

Din catches himself in his chest, fist tight. Something dark and buried tells him he’s known all along. It’s the same whispered haunting voice that spoke the truth to him all those days ago. Trapped in Gideon’s cargo hold, held by droids against his will. He’s always known. Nothing has changed, not in the slightest.

And her, her being some… some clone, some piece of bioengineering, what difference does it make? How is it not another excuse for her actions?

He steps away, far away. Far enough that she is no longer within arms reach and his heel hits cabinets. A glass vial topples and cracks. 

The guard watches, Lumina does not. Her gaze is robotic, remaining stagnant on the sword. She turns hypnotized to face the oppressor. 

Gideon isn’t entirely incorrect in his assessment. Mostly, but not complete. Lumina isn’t the same, the sight of her makes that much obvious… but had he known her at all? Had anything been real? She had indeed worked against him the whole of their time but…

His nerves twitch. Damn migraine.

“Tell me, Din Djarin,” Gideon says. “What is it that you want?”

He doesn’t want her. He doesn’t. He will repeat it until he dies, he does not want her. Even now. Especially now. Not as he stares at her for the first time in ten days, of which each feels like a year. Not when there’s this insatiable urge to grab her, hold her, take her somewhere, anywhere else. He wants to take her into the Razor Crest, let her take a stupidly long shower as she always does and sing just loud enough so that he may hear. He wants her to sleep and eat and sleep until she looks anything like herself again.

But the Razor Crest does not exist anymore. Neither does she.

She does not care for him. Not ever, not now. Especially now. Not when she cannot remember anything of their lives. Cannot look at him, recoils at his touch. When all she can give him is an exposed and turned back, chilled from blowing air and perfectly clean.

A perfectly clean unmarked back…

Huh.

“I choose the Child,” Din says. “Keep her, you’re right. She means nothing.” 

“Are you certain?”

He nods. “Yes.” 

“Very well. 318,” Gideon says, her attention snapped. “You are dismissed. Return to your quarters.”

She stumbles, jumping off the surgical table without imprints on the back of her thighs. She nods at Gideon, ignores Din, and brushes past the guard. When doors close it’s as if she never existed at all.

What a thought.

“Where’s the kid?” Din asks. 

Gideon smirks. “That would be nice to know, wouldn’t it?”

In an instant Din is flung against the opposite wall, crashing directly into glass, labeled fluid splashing in every direction. He groans, his helmet denting the wall.

“Did you think it would be that easy?” Gideon asks. He keeps position while his guard advances. Her left arm is stretched, fingers moving on her right. “Did you honestly believe you could get anything from me?” He laughs. “You have been a stain on my plans for too many moons and your interest has faded.”

Din’s body constricts on himself, the guard pushes him further and further into durasteel.

“You should have never come,” Gideon says. “The Child alone I can understand, I’m a father as well. But her?” He scoffs. “Lord Vader created her for one purpose, to squash enemies like bugs. It is all she knows. You should have understood that.”

Dins feet lift off the ground, not far but shadow does form. He tries to fight, he tries to try and he cannot. His body struggles too much, it is too weak, he is too human. 

Gideon instructs, “Kill him.”

His throat tightens, his hands pull at his own neck. Nothing works. The guards left hand balls into a fist, snapping to the side. His vision blurs. Din Djarin watches her right hand gently turn with his neck and falls into a deep unimaginable sleep. 

---

The Mandalorian awakes by a jolt of electricity, a minute two finger punch to the pulse point of his neck.

He hears that he’s dead, however—and although he cannot say he is familiar with the sensation—he does not feel dead. Quite the opposite. Energy renews, and in the strangest way, the aches he carried disappear. Clarity enters.

His eyes take longer to open, boots and knees crouched in front of his visor. He couldn’t have been unconscious for long, behind the figure of the guard is still Moff Gideon. He speaks with gesture, and it is now Din realizes his prior shyness in motion. On his left, his arm ends abrupt, disfigured. 

That’s new.

Gideon is less proud without knowledge of Din’s audience. He keeps a distance, almost afraid. 

The thought, surely she couldn’t have caused his disfigurement, is not a stranger to his mind. The implication however, is. 

She doesn’t move or speak or breathe really. Gideon talks, as he always does. He praises her. Her hand enters Din’s left side pocket—having landed on his right—quickly and leaves all the same. Gideon tells her he’s amazed her conditioning was a success. She stands, Din forced to stare at her heels. 

“Glory to the Empire,” she says eventually. Her vocoder is too strong, she reverbs like a canyon. 

Gideon repeats. 

Glory to the Empire.

With a sinking feeling, Din would much rather be prepared for his grave. Placed six feet below in rich soil, safe from the collision of fate. 

---

“You will kill the Mandalorian… What I see, is the Mandalorian you align yourself with will fear you, and you will kill him in the name of the Empire.”

The words tornado as Lumina’s hands shake at her sides, sweating under leather. She pants outside of Doctor Pershing’s laboratory where a gang of four Stormtroopers await. The mask Ghost had given her found quick removal, laying thrown on the floor. Her forehead presses against the wall, expression pinched.

 “Get a move on,” one says.

She shouldn’t worry. She knows she shouldn’t worry. Her skills surpass worry, they transcend fear. The Mandalorian is not dead. He may be sore and dazed but he is not dead. He’s not. And if he were, if she were somehow careless and unyielding to her power she would have felt it. His pain, his agony, the Force leave his body. She would know, it would kill her just the same.

A darkness whispers in her ear, Anakin killed his wife…

“I said move,” the Trooper repeats.

She grunts, “Give me a minute.”

The silence is too loud, she can’t hear through the walls. She should have stayed, fought Gideon herself, finished what she unknowingly started. It isn’t fair to Din. It’s never been fair. 

What if he hadn’t woken? What if Gideon were in the room at this very moment, boasting his success, torturing the Mandalorians assumed dead body. What if the helmet is removed?

She didn’t think this through. Din is a capable man there is no doubt of it, but Lumina is uncontrollable and dangerous, she knows not her own strength. What is he against her? Ghost forbid her weapons but what does that matter to the Force? 

Her ability to consistently make the worst choices would be impressive under any other circumstance. 

She should find Fennec, create an excuse of direction and return to the cell. Koska and Dune should wake soon, bodies dragged inside of the bridge. She still has time to fix things, course correct.

It’s all Bo-Katan’s fault, an excuse she cannot abandon. What business does she have to be here? She never expected Din to want her rescue, and had surely hoped to be correct. So why should Bo-Katan look for Lumina specifically? They hadn’t been the most amicable in their initial meeting.

Pershing must have had something to do with it. Though explanations were rushed and short lived, he knew what their final meeting would result in. The drugs, the flayer, the oncoming ambush by the Mandalorian and his company. They decided logistics as quick as possible. 

Their finding of him was no coincidence, and his fear permeates regardless of ruse. Should he be privy to a plan—a likely scenario—he was to promote motions. The Mandalorian Din Djarin was to be directed to the station with the Child. Boba Fett would go on to discover Lumina with possible aide by Fennec Shand. Any other parties could be divided as they saw fit. Only then would Lumina through some miracle arrive at the Child’s holding cell, entrap the Mandalorian until all was well and vanish without a trace.

Pain enters her chest. Why wasn’t Boba here? What of his promises?

A baton wacks at the back of her leg, breaking her contemplation. She bites her tongue to not cry. “Move!” the Trooper barks.

They may think her turned infantile and slow, but it does not disregard their innate fear. The thrill of joy given in their power, her hurt.

“I want to see 313,” Lumina says through clenched teeth.

“She is to remain undisturbed. Direct orders.”

The illusion continued longer than any of them expected. Without a voice it stood simpler but to be tangible? As children Ghost would faint from the experience continuing longer than a minute. She’s older now yes, but overconfident, overzealous.

“I am giving you direct orders, take me to her now.”

“We don’t listen to the likes of you anymore,” another says. “We outrank you, clone.”

…Clone?

Lumina whispers, “What?”

Tired of a wait, they grab at her, pushing her away. “No talking,” one says. “You’re going back in the hole.”

For a moment, Lumina listens without argument. Her feet drag and shoves become all the more frequent, but the word pulls over and over.

Clone.

Suddenly breathing becomes her most difficult task.

They shove her again.

She blacks out.

---

Alone, Moff Gideon moves throughout the laboratory with a slow and dignified ease. He paces his observation as if at any moment it could all disappear. He fears entrapment inside some glorious dream, a miracle of the Galactic Empire, and that he will soon wake up. Many many sacrifices have been made—phantom pains on his left arm grow stronger by the hour, and any hope in seeing his daughter again is nulled—but to reach this conclusion. To win.

To not only defeat the pesky rodent of Din Djarin that has plagued his life for the past rotation, the Mandalorian built of pure beskar and unending gall. To say he did it. To prove once and for all that a Mandalorian is no greater than a simple man. No stronger than a well trained body. No smarter than a former agent of the ISB. No more fearsome than the greatest of Jedi and greater of Sith. 

Bo-Katan would come next, already captured in a cell. Waiting, no doubt, with anticipation and slow building anxiety. Her defeat would be even easier this round. Gideon will waste no time and guarantee no Mandalorian would ever interrupt his plans again. 

It will be child’s play. 

And even this, this undoubted success, his unquestionable victory is not where his foul pride blooms. Gideon lifts a forgotten data sheet, unintelligible letters resembling binary and making out the sequencing of life.

This.

Her.

This unattainable thing. This proof of all his struggle, his research, his desire. The evidence of a myth, the last surviving link to greatness. A combination of science and magic. A handcrafted being, the first documented artificial life to carry the power of the Force.

And she belongs, to him. No longer temperamental, or emotional, or unstable and manic. But a calm vessel, willing and wanting to take any direction given. Immune to attachments. Trained and domesticated like a mutt.

And if by chance she were to become… unpredictable? He wouldn’t have to wait another twenty plus years for a replicated specimen to reach maturity, nor the ten years it took for the original Fett beings. With a Kaminoan trained mind like Doctor Pershing and the endless Imperial funding sure to be granted after the display of his new power, Gideon could have adult clones made in one standard rotation. There would of course, be no need for formal education or socialization. Only objects to destroy and to be destroyed.

Who knows, one day he could perhaps convince Doctor Pershing to implement the cloning methods on another being. Someone… more worthy. Someone like himself.

But he is getting ahead of a future that has yet to come. That will surely come. He will celebrate with wine and the envy of others. Then, oh then the day will arrive that his cohorts will quit their useless wait on Grand Admiral Thrawn or the words of Admiral Rae Sloane. They will realize the alien is wholly unnecessary. That he, Moff Gideon—soon to be Grand Moff Gideon, it is inevitable—is all they could ever want. All they could ever need. 

What a day that will be indeed. And this… Grand Inquisitor this child of the harvest, the unfortunate growing muse of his actions. She will too be pleased. They will together build a cloned Sith army, never ending, never dying. 

It will be their Empire.

Though, mainly Gideon’s. 

 How wonderful. 

Until then, the matters of the present do need dealing with. For starters, while the body of Din Djarin is a joyous sight, it will begin to smell. And that is a problem far beneath his station. Someone else will have to collect the body, Gideon will take the beskar. To deter from any undeserving thieves of course.

“What a shame,” he gloats to the Mandalorian, crouching. “This is quite the unceremonious end for one of your kind.” By instinct his left hand—or what had once been his left hand—reaches to the beskar helm. The right replaces in action. “You should have believed her,” Gideon muses aloud, his own private diversion. “If you had… maybe she wouldn’t have killed herself—” Gideons words end choking, the grip of a leather hand around his throat. 

The Mandalorian rises from the dead. In one fluid motion their positions flip, Gideon slammed to the ground. The Mandalorian shouts in his face, “What did you do?”

Gideon sputters, his eyes bulge wide. This should not be possible. Not at all. The Mandalorian lifts his head again, hitting down so that he sees a flash of white. 

“What…” he pants, “…did you do to her?”

And Gideon does the only thing he knows. He blindly reaches for the Darksaber, it’s activation dangerous and spastic. Distracted, Gideon takes the opportunity to knee Din Djarin in the stomach and clamors to his feet. He waves the saber fanatically, like the Mandalorian were a rabid bear to fend off. 

The attempt is useless. Din rises to his feet, broad shoulders somehow broader, body somehow taller. Anger all too tangible. From his back he pulls an unending beskar spear. 

If the Mandalorian is a bear, Gideon is fresh bloody meat begging to be devoured.

---

Cabinet glass is the first victim, second comes the vials, third the terminals. Beskar and plasma collide in never ending ricochets and hollow bangs. Sparks fly with every impact, the smell of burning metal infiltrates the air. 

The aim is two fold, defeating Gideon certainly is the priority but… Din chances every misplaced glance he can spare. The entire room, every inch is evidence of her. Scribbled handwritings of her blood, height, weight. A checklist of future exams, possible theories, prescribed medications. 

He shatters whatever he can; spear swooping wider, stabbing further, misdirecting Gideons ill timed shots for his own destruction.

The Moff is no competition and it is an insult to the Mandalorian’s character to assume so in any aspect. Nothing is calculated or practiced. The sword Din assumes, weighs too heavy in his single hand. The blade tempts to drag and is prevented only the lifting of the beskar. 

At the first point of break, Gideon scurries across the room to create distance and regain breath. He push the surgical table to slam against Din, but with half the available source of velocity the Mandalorian kicks it away.

Gideon is playing games, and Din is bored.

With the arena opened, Din attacks Moff head on. He utilizes his danger and rage with such fervor, he removes his actions from the blocking preconceived. He does not run or use words to distract Gideon. Overhead lighting flickers them in and out of existence. Din flashes closer in each blossom of light. 

Gideon’s right hand lifts wildly, ready to swing. But Din takes hold of his wrist, not bothering to look whether or not he could catch it because he knows he would. Din squeezes the thin frail bone until he hears one snap and one shout of agonized pain.

The hilt falls and skids across the ground.

The game is over.

Din Djarin takes hold of Gideon by the throat and smashes his fists into his face until his gloves turn red and hot. He throws Gideon against the one plain wall of the room. He crashes the Imperial into the paneling over and over and over. Gideon is too weak to fight back, too old, too human. His knees give out first, feet unable to find the bottom of him. 

Din never loses grip. He keeps Gideon upright. Keeps him with laser precision. He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t want to. This… this is where Lumina had always been wrong. Din isn’t better than her, he isn’t holier, good. He’s better at hiding his fury, the fires in his eyes.

He could kill Moff Gideon, and he would without any regret. He can picture it so clearly, the spear piercing through the Moff’s trachea, his warm blood splattering out. Another name to the list of the Mandalorian’s cold blooded murders. The New Republic, he knows, would never see to it that Gideon earn a just punishment for his crimes. He had of course been subjected to execution in the first war tribunal. And Bo-Katan had already faced so many disappointments in life, what would the addition of one more change?

Should anyone deserve a sense of vengeance against the Moff it should be Din Djarin. The man had attacked his family after all. Hunted his child for well over a year. He killed Mandalore. Killed Concordia. Killed the tribes of Nevarro. Killed the Razor Crest. Killed Kuiil. Killed countless of women on Ryndellia. Killed the only chance Din would ever have at being anything close to normal and happy and good. Killed her. 

And he doesn’t care about her, the stabbing pain in the back of his mind ensures that. He would kill her himself if given the chance, and perhaps that is where the anger stems. That she had gone before he could have a proper go. A final fight, final blows, final argument filled with expletives and statements neither of them truly mean. A final storm out of each others lives. A final sunrise and a final night. A final moment to say I’m sorry. Please come back, it won’t happen again.

A final moment to know it absolutely will.

The Mandalorian will never have himself again. And somewhere deep down Din knows the blame can’t all fall to Gideon. Because they are who they are, and man is flawed even when carved by the hands of gods.

But being who he is means an unchanging stubbornness and penetrative anger. He cannot change now when the purpose is removed.

He wants to kill Gideon.

And he will or—he would. 

Divine intervention continues to be a foreign concept despite it’s persistence in his life.

Moff Gideon’s communicator shrills with life. Men on the other line shout in broken desperation. “Sir! Sir, she’s gone wild—won’t—stop!—the whole ship—looking for—thirteen—need to evacuate!”

 And Gideon… Gideon looks as though he has never experienced fear in his life until this moment. He is not, Din comes to realize, afraid of dying. That portion of battle came expected. No, what he is truly afraid of is whatever lays behind that communicator. 

Death seems to be his only escape.

And so Din decides.

He decides to force Gideon to live.

---

The apocalypse of the Sith had at long last come. Or, so it would seem. Outside of the laboratory, doors open to a new world. Pieces of the wall are torn off their holdings and crashed into another. Shafts are shredded, pipes leaking. Overhead lighting is blown out, shattered glass insult to injury.

It is an abomination.

Stormtroopers are in worse shape than Elysium Hortus, were that at all possible. Dismemberment, blood, burnt flesh, and crushed bone. The first thing Din steps on is a lone hand. 

Had he been too lost in his own skirmish to be deaf to the destruction? Surely the battle did not occur without fight. Whoever, whatever is the origin of this sweeping death could not have done so in secrecy. And yet—

The path leads two ways: Down the blackened road to the right, or towards the light and untouched territory. Runi kar’tayl dictates Din Djarin go right, every string of his joints tug in the direction. But he has grown a habit of no longer listening and remains statued.

Gideon pulls at the ropes tied around his arms. For the first time in his life, he is horrified. “Gods,” he swears. 

The Mandalorian shoves him forward, almost tripping the Imperial on a fallen pipe. “Quiet.” 

“You should have killed me.”

“You’d be so lucky.”

“You won’t make it either. None of you will. We’re all dead, she’ll never stop now.” 

This grants the Mandalorian pause. He turns Gideon a sharp degree to face. The old man groans. “Who? Who did this?”

And the old man shakes his head, a sinister smirk growing. One having long accepted the power of death with warm embrace. Like his final twist of fury and demonic faith has at long last come to fruition. “Should you have a god, I recommend you pray. What is it your people say? Haran eyaytyc at droten.”

Hell is upon man.

--------

Translations: Ni gana kil'yc ca'nara - I have no time Runi kar’tayl - Soul awareness Haran eyaytyc at droten- Hell is upon man (lit. Hell escaped to the people)

---

Chapter Thirty-Six: Pandemonium

Taglist: @lexloon​ @jay-bel​ @xsadderdazeforeverx​ @spideysimpossiblegirl​ @sarahjkl82-blog​ @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny​ @hello-th3r3​

[elizabeanmemes]

Prep Lifestyle

Etiquette

Classic clothes only

Remember who you are and the family you’re from; conduct yourself properly at all times

Discretion is the better part of valor

Never complain, never explain

Thank you notes on stationery within 24 hr

Live within your means

Nothing showy/big logos 

Smile at everyone

Creators

Clare McLaughlin/Clare Sullivan

EmilyOandBows

Julesvlogs19 (TT)

Purapreppy (TT)

Whipplequincy

Mrs.sharty (TT)

Clothing Staples

Camel coat

Navy blazer with gold buttons

Black blazer

✅ Striped shirt

✅ Black long sleeve

✅ Jeans

Crisp white shirt

✅ Tan sweater

Trench coat

Black pencil skirt

✅ Black T shirt

✅ White T shirt

✅ Black shirt

Black sun hat

✅ Tan purse

✅ Black purse

Watch

✅ Pearl earrings

✅ Black heels

✅ Black boots

✅ Black wallet

Nude flats

Grey wool pants (Brooks, Talbots, Lafayette, Nordstrom house brand)

Black A-line dress

Cable-knit cashmere pullover

✅ Pearls

✅ Stud earrings

Polo dresses

Classic jewelry to pull the look together 

*Khakis (casual, have both long and cropped)

Khaki shorts

Jeans (casual)

Tees (casual)

*Polos (casual)

Turtlenecks (casual)

✅ Tretorns (casual)

Linen blazer (summer)

White pants (summer)

*Lilly shift dress (summer)

Nantucket red shorts (summer)

Jack Rogers sandals (summer)

Ferragamo pumps 

*Loafers (Belgian)

Tasteful, traditional flats

Madras shirt

Madras shorts

Madras blazer

Ribbon belt

Sweater tied around the neck

Hair ribbons

Ribbon headbands

Classic jewelry

Plain, classic hats (Polo player, Lacoste, Brooks Brothers)

OCBDs

✅ Dark wash fitted jeans

Brown loafers

Cardigans

J Crew Jeans

White and pink BB Polo Oxford shirts

Navy pants

White blouse with French cuffs

Sweater sets

Stubbs & Wooten needlepoint slippers

Hermes belt

Goyard bag

✅ Hunter rain boots

Down vest (navy, red, Hunter green)

Coordinating winter hat and gloves

✅ Bean boots

Fair Isle yoke sweater (O’Connell)

LL bean boat n tote bag (navy, red, or green with monogram)

Ray Ban Wayfarer or American Optical Saratoga sunglasses

Black turtleneck

Wrap dress

Tuckernuck Blue Stripe Willow Blouse

CB Jackets

Merino Wool Full Zip Jacket

Cartier Tank Watch

Oxford Evergreen Watch

LL Bean Field watch with grosgrain or madras band

Stubbs and Wooten slippers

Pastel button downs

✅ white tank

✅ navy tank

Short and long sleeve linen shirts (white, ecru)

Navy shorts

Khaki shorts

Tan espadrille

High nude heels

Low nude heels

Summer scarves

Pink cardigan

Lilly Pulitzer dresses

White classic sneakers

Sandals

Sunhat

Polos

White jeans

Pink or green Patagonia vest

Navy or brown Sperry’s

Jack Rogers

Braided belt

Pink seersucker

Shoes

*Sperry’s Topsiders

Tory Burch flats

Sam Edelman flats

Bass Weejuns

Clarks brand

Gucci brand

Belgian shoes

Frye boots

Sebago (higher quality alternative to Sperry’s)

Castañer espadrilles

Rancourt and Company loafers

Accessories

KJP belts

✅ Nantucket basket

Embroidered Bermuda bag

Tiffany By The Yard Diamond Stud earrings

Fine grain cognac medium leather bag

Longchamp bag (Le Pliage)

Navy monogrammed medium LL Bean zip up tote

Vermont Country Store purses

Dooney & Bourke bag

YSL clutch

Bermuda bag with changeable covers and mother of Pearl buttons 

Goyard handbags

Frances Valentine Wallet

Travelambo wallet

Patterns

Seersucker

Prints in general

Whale print

Anchor print

Palm tree print

Crab print

Lobster print

Nautical flag print

Nautical stripes

Colors

Bright!

Pink

Lime green

Yellow 

Kelly green

Navy

White

Tan

Black

Beige

Red

Farrow & Ball pink

Pastels

Clothing Brands

Ralph Lauren

Lilly Pulitzer

Brooks Brothers

Lacoste

Burberry

LL Bean

Vineyard Vines

J Crew

Andover Shop

J Press

Paul Stewart

Charles Tyrwhitt

Castaway

Cable Car Clothiers

Sid Mashburn

Land’s End

Lumina Clothing Company

Peter Millar

Ian Marko

Bonobos

Gant USA

Orvis

Jos A. Bank

Ted Baker

Pringle of Scotland

Vicomte Arthur

CK Bradley

Murray’s Togggery Shop

Patagonia

Tommy Hilfiger

Greg Norman

Barbour

Tucker Blair

Alden

Crockett and Jones

Kate Spade

Ella Vickers

Michael Kors

Ferragamo

Carolina Herrera

Stubs and Wootton

Thomas Pink

Talbots

Tod’s

Vintage Izod/Lacoste

Silk and Salt

Rowing Blazers

Mercer and Sons

Boden

Jane

CK Bradley

Ann Mashburn

Filson

Orvis

Le Chameau

Dubarry

Murray’s Toggery

Gretchen Scott

Aran Sweater Market

Blarney Woolen Mill

Cordings

Tuckernuck

Martin and Osa

Gucci [especially shoes]

Sperry’s Topsider [shoes]

Clarks [shoes]

Bass [shoes]

Tory Burch [flats]

Kiel James Patrick [belts]

Collared Greens [ties]

Alexander Olch [ties]

NOT Hollister, American Eagle, Abercrombie

Gloria Vanderbilt

More Brands

Club Monaco

Draper James dresses

JMclaughlin

Frances Valentine

Gretchen Scott

Jude Connally

Crown & Ivy

Elizabeth Wilson Designs

Sail to Sable

Sarah Campbell

Laura Ashley

St James (Breton stripe)

Gatorlily’s Resale Boutique

James Avery Jewelry

Rally House (College shirts)

Gone downhill: Ann Taylor, Talbots

Portland Leather Goods

Everlane Day Market Tote

Quince

Everlane

Outfit Ideas

Pleated skirt with sweater (Fair Isle, argyle, cashmere) and ballet slippers, boots (low heel or riding), or kitten heels w/ tights (try matte black tights); could add pearls

Try the pleated skirt look with grey cashmere sweater with white collar and cuffs, grey tights, and patent loafers (or regular grey sweater with funky tights)

Pleated skirt with blouse and black pumps

Pointy (leopard) pumps, jeans, slouchy cashmere sweater, pearls, perfect hair, minimal makeup

Pointy (leopard) pumps, high waisted jeans, chunky cropped camel cable knit

Pointy (leopard) pumps, high waisted jeans, black cashmere v neck, Hermes big silk scarf

Pointy (leopard) pumps, jeans, black cashmere turtleneck, gold cuff bracelet, gold chunky hoop earrings

Black turtleneck, black capri pants, ballet flats, blazer or Hermes shawl, Hermes belt

Thanksgiving: black turtleneck and tartan stole

Blue vintage Lilly dress, monogrammed gold necklace, Tretorns, Aigner sunglasses

Cars

**Range Rover

**Mercedes Station Wagon (esp with wood-type paneling)

Mercedes GLE

Mercedes GLS

*Subaru Wagon

Subaru Forester

**Volvo C70

*VW Rabbit

*Land Rover (*$$ to maintain, avoid the NEW Defender)

The Aviator

Land Cruiser

Items

Monogrammed tissue box cover

Red Stewart tartan shower curtain

Vern Yip soap dispenser

Monograms/engraving: tote bag, Oxford shirt, jewelry, money clip

ZDMHSH 100% Silk Scarf (green with floral pattern, Amazon)

MEISEE 21” Silk Scarf (green and pink, Amazon)

Rowing Blazers Black Sheep Scarf

Rowing Blazers Black Sheep Sweater

Gucci bangle bracelet

Black

Vacation Spots

Rhode Island: North Fork, Little Compton, Block Island, *Newport

Maine: Camden, Kennebunkport, *Freeport

MA: *The Cape, ***Martha’s Vineyard, *Nantucket

VA: Charlottesville, Georgetown

NC: Duck, Outer Banks

Bethany Beach, DE

FL: Coconut Grove, Key West, *Palm Beach, *Seaside, Boca Raton

The Greenbrier, WV

SC: Pawley’s Island, Hilton Head, Myrtle Beach, ***Charleston

GA: Sea Island, Savannah

*Hamptons, NY

Annapolis, MD

Grand Manan Island

**Muskoka

**Bermuda

Capri, Italy

Santorini

St. Kitts

Bastad, Sweden

St Moritz, Switzerland

Monaco

Cape

Harwich Antiques

Boston

Andover Shop

Bell in Hand Tavern

J Mclaughlin

Charles St

Tremont St

Fairbanks House

Sparks Steakhouse on E 46th St, get Roquefort cheese on top

Parker House Hotel

Hampshire House bar on Beacon St

No. 9 Park

Lobster from James Hook & Co

Wenham Tea House

Harvest

Franklin Cafe

Uni

Woodman’s

Bostonian Public House

The Chart House

Marliave

Dolce Vita

Yvonnes (dinner)

Oak Bar (drinks)

Four seasons (tea)

1928

The Langham

Caffe Vittoria

Green Dragon

Bond Bar at the Langham

Mike’s Pastry (best cannolis)

NYC

Peter Luger (lunch burger)

Katz Deli (cheesecake)

Juniors (cheesecake)

JG Melon (burgers, beer, pub fare. Bring cash)

Donohue’s (steak, seafood, cocktails)

Serendipity 3

The Smith

The Dead Rabbit (gastropub, great cocktails)

The Capital Grille

Uncle Mario’s

Joe Allen’s on 46th

Delmonicos

King Cole Bar

Keens

Pete’s tavern

Dead rabbit

Ping

Francois tavern

One if by land two if by sea

Baltzar

Elios

Uno

The Carlyle

St Ambrues

The Mark

Bear Bar

The Polo Bar

Claudette

Philippe

John’s on Bleeker

Pier Hotel on 5th and 61st

Gramercy Tavern

Fraunces Tavern

Rainbow Room

Delmonico’s

Raine’s Law Room (cocktails)

The Plaza (tea)

Bergdorf (tea)

Dorsia

Pasti’s

PJ Clark’s on Fifth

Ellen’s starlight diner

The Smith (tomato soup)

Salt + charcoal (steak, crab cakes)

William Vale Hotel and Westlight rooftop bar

Mcnally Jackson bookstore

Chez Josephine

Jack and Charlie’s No 118

Lola Taverna

Carbone

Bar Tulix

Malatesta

Trattoria del Arte (57th st/Avenue of the Americas)

Gallagher’s Steak House

PJ Clarkes

Odeon

Morandi

Chez Bonoit

Elio’s UES

Balthazar SoHo

Food/Recipes

Lobster

Ina Garten chocolate tart recipe

Fannie Farmer Mac n Cheese

Cheese plate

Shrimp cocktail

Alcohol

Pinot Noir

Piper-Heidsieck

Perrier-Jouet

Pimms

Pernod

Gin: Tangueray, *Hendricks, Bombay Sapphire Conniption in regular and Navy Strength for something unique (keep limes/lime juice and tonic water on hand!) - keep two brands on hand possibly since people have strong opinions

Cutty Sark Whiskey 

Macallan Scotch

Perfume

Jo Malone Peony and Blush Suede

**Chanel Chance

**Creed Spring Flowers

Clean Reserve Radiant Nectar

**Dolce & Gabana Light Blue

Gucci Bloom

*Jo Malone Wild Bluebell

**Chanel Coco Mademoiselle

Marc Jacobs Honey

Guerlain Mon Guerlain

Miss Dior Blooming Bouquet

Eau de Cartier (fall/winter)

Jeans/Pants

FRAME

PAIGE

Madewell

JCrew

Gloria Vanderbilt

Ralph Lauren

Banana Republic

Pearls

Chantilly

Monogram

Mark and Graham

Prep Obsessed

Shirts for Layering

Uniqlo t shirts

J Crew and J Crew factory tissue turtlenecks

J Crew Factory Artist Tee

LL Bean

Chadwicks

Headbands

Lele

JCrew

Chocolate

Wilbur Buds

Neuhaus

Lake Champlain

Gorant

Magazines

Victoria

Vintage Town and Country

Veranda

Yankee

Cape Cod Life

This Old House

Rhode Island Monthly

Country Living

The English Garden

The Field

Country Life (UK)

The Magazine Antiques

Preservation

Music

Teddy

Beach Boys

Billy Joel

Elton John

Chicago

Jefferson Airplane/Starship

The Dead

Neil Young

David Bowie

Rolling Stones

The Who

Talking Heads

Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes

Vampire Weekend

B52s

REM

Spandau Ballet

Paul Weiler (The Style Council)

Terry Hall and the Colourfield

The Pale Fountains

Nick Heyward and the Haircut 100

New Order

China Crisis

OMD

The Go Gos

Elvis

Bryan Ferry (Roxy Music)

Wilco

MGMT

Take Five by the Dave Brubeck Quartet

Chet Baker

Miles David

Frank Sinatra

Carolina Beach Music

Yacht rock

Movies

Anything Wes Anderson

The Graduate

Love Story

The Paper Chase

The Great Gatsby starring Mia Farrow

Philadelphia Story

Ordinary People

Igby Goes Down

Home Alone

The World According to Garp

Making the Grade

Trading Places

Cruel Intentions

House of Yes

Royal Tenenbaums

The Talented Mr. Ripley

High Society

Castle (Netflix)

Metropolitan

American Psycho

Dead Poets Society

Animal House

The Mona Lisa Smile

Brideshead Revisited

Caddyshack

Philadelphia Story

Sabrina

Emma

Pride and Prejudice

Heathers

Pretty in Pink

Less than Zero

A Separate Peace

Endless Love

Rushmore

Chinatown

Saint Elmo’s Fire

You’ve Got Mail

Something’s Gotta Give

Hanging Up

The Family Stone

In the Gloaming

The Game

Oxford Blues

Scent of a Woman

Anything John Hughes

Breakfast at Tiffany’s

Masquerade (Rob Lowe)

Reversal of Fortune

The Russia House

Good Fortune

Burn After Reading

Chariots of Fire

Thoroughbreds

The Good Shephard

American Werewolf in London

The Graduate

Sixteen Candles 

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off

A Single Man

Angels in America

Anna Karenina

Annie Hall

Beatriz at Dinner

Cabaret

Call Me By Your Name

✅ Clueless

Downton Abbey, The Movie

Downton Abbey, A New Era

Father of the Bride movies

Good Will Hunting

Grey Gardens

Harvard Beats Yale 29-29

Jackie

✅ Legally Blonde

Little Women

Longtime Companion

Lulu’s Pearl Bracelet

Maurice

Pret a Porter

Romeo and Juliet (1996)

School Ties

Sense and Sensibility

Steel Magnolias

The American Ruling Class

The Breakfast Club

The Circle

The College Admissions Scandal: Operation Varsity Blues

The Devil Wears Prada

The Firm

The Last Days of Disco

The Lords of Discipline

The Preppie’s Movie List

The Remains of the Day

The Social Network

The Way We Were

Those People

Wall Street

With Honors

Wuthering Heights

Adventures in Babysitting

Cutlery

Paul Revere by Oneida

Style Icons

Audrey Hepburn

Grace Kelly

Catherine Zeta Jones

Elizabeth Taylor

Victoria Kensington

Dorothy Dandridge

Diahann Carroll

Dina Merrill

Caroline Bessette

CZ Guest

Cornelia Guest

Reese Witherspoon

Candice Bergen

Tory Burch

Katharine Hepburn

Kelly Rutherford

Fashion/Lifestyle Books

Rowing Blazers by Jack Carlson

The Ivy League by Daniel Capello

Hollywood and the Ivy Look

L.L. Bean: Guaranteed to Last

A Privileged Life

Preppy by Banks and La Chappelle

Seven Sisters Style

Ralph Lauren: The Man Behind the Mystique

True Style by Boyer

Take Ivy

Filthy Rich Handbook

True Prep

The Ivy Look

Tipsy in Madras

The WASP Mystique

The Yuppy Handbook

The Handbook of Style

Untold Friendships by Parsons

Who Killed Society by Amory

Black Ivy: A Revolt in Style

A Southern Belle Primer

New Times in the Old South

Why Scarlett is in Therapy

Tara’s Going Condo

Being Dead is No Excuse 

Miss Julia series

Take Ivy

Preppy by Jeffrey Banks

Stuff White People Like by Christian Lander

The Millionaire Next Door

Books

The Country House Library

The Secret History

Class by Paul Fussell

Boring Bourgeoisie by David Brooks

Taste by Stanley Tucci

In the Weeds by Tom Vitale

Our Country Friends by Gary Shteyngart

The Sentence by Louise Erdrich

Capote’s Women by Laurence Learner

Harlem Shuffle by Colson Whitehead

Femlandia by Christina Dalcher

The Family by Naomi Krupitsky

Primates of Park Avenue by Wednesday Martin

The Last of the Southern Girls by Willie Morris

Gentlemen and Players by Joanne Harris

Franny and Zooey by JD Salinger

John Updike

The Heirs by Susan Rieger

Snobs by Julian Fellowes

The Palace Thief by Ethan Canin

Edith Wharton

This Side of Paradise by Fitzgerald

Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates

The Grass is Singing by Doris Lessing

The Spider’s House by Paul Bowles

John Cheever short stories

The Talented Mr. Ripley series by Patricia Highsmith

Prep by Curtis Sittenfeld

John Irving

The World According to Garp

The Hotel New Hampshire

The Cider House Rules

Our Town

People Like Us

The Country Club Murders by Julie Mulhern

The Two Mrs. Grenvilles by Dominick Dunne

Fates and Furies by Lauren Groffe

If We Were Villains by ML Rio

Drowning with Others by Linda Keke

Bunny by Mona Awad

White Fur by Jardine Libaire

All These Perfect Strangers by Elizabeth Klehfoth

Laura Child tea shop mysteries

Miss Pym Disposes by Josephine Tey

The Last of the Savages by Jay Mcinerney

The Finishing School by Joanna Goodman

The Lawrenceville Stories

The Gold Coast by Nelson DeMille

Lake of Dead Languages

Love and Glory by Robert Parker

The Rule of Four by Thomason and Caldwell

Commencement by J Courtney Sullivan

Paper Palace

Good Company

Mary Stewart

Eric by Doris Lund

Black Chalk by Christopher Yates

The Ninth House

The Campus Trilogy by David Lodge

Circle of Friends by Maeve Binchy

The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen

Laurie Colwin

Pretty in Plaid by Jen Lancaster

Colony by Anne Rivers Siddons

Bright Lights, Big City

The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt

The Swimmer by John Cheever

The Sisters by Babe Mortimer Paley

The Lives and Times of the Famous Cushing Sisters by David Grafton

Auchincloss

The Group by Mary McCarthy

A Separate Peace

Rebecca by Daphne DuMaurier

The Little Book of Hygge

The Secret Architecture of Our Nation’s Capitol

Our Kind of People by Lawrence Otis

Bonfire of the Vanities by Tom Wolfe

A Man in Full by Tom Wolfe

Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway

A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway

Ordinary People by Judith Guest

Gatherings by Marina Rust

Fitzgerald books

Franny and Zooey

✅ Catcher in the Rye

Love Story

The Alexandrian Quartet

Lord of the Rings

Shakespeare

Homer

Dickens

A Room with a View by EM Forster

To Manor Born, to Manners Bred

✅ Little Women

The Last Convertible

Elements of Style by Wendy Wasserstein

John O Hara books

Appointment in Samara

Butterfield 8

Rage to Live

John Irving

David Sedaris

Margaret Atwood

God and Man at Yale

Less than Zero by Bret Ellis

Brideshead Revisited

Colin Harrison books

Thorn Birds

Marjorie Morningstar by Herman Wouk

The Group by Mary McCarthy

The Best of Everything by Rona Jaffe

Edith Wharton

Bright Lights, Big City

Jane Eyre

The Last Convertible

Harlot’s Ghost

The Secret History

The Age of Innocence

A Separate Peace

War and Peace

Nine Stories by J.D. Salinger

South of Broad

The Remains of the Day

Prep by Sittenfiel

The Swimmer by John Cheever

Mating Rituals of the North American WASP by Lauren Lipton

The Big House by George Howe Colt

The Second Home by Christina Clancy

Colony

Monkeys by Susan Minot

The Vacationers

The Dutch House by Ann Patchett

Sports

Polo

Sailing

Fencing

Rowing

Lacrosse

Golf

Tennis

Swimming

Squash

Silver Patterns

Francis I (showy, opulent, wants a full-time career and a Junior League board position and a family), gets on well with MIL who prefers Grand Baroque or Burgundy

Linens

Frontgate

Stationery

Cranes

Mrs. John L Strong

Palm Beach Papery (more affordable)

Augusta Joy Stationery

Makeup

Chanel Rouge Coco Gloss, 754

MAC Lipstick in Ruby Woo

Revlon Lipstick in Cherries in the Snow

Candy/Desserts

Guylian

Harbor Sweets

Butler’s

Charbonnel et Walker

See’s

Burdicks

Truffles

Nail Polish

OPI All Your Dreams in Vending Machines

OPI Bubble Bath

Essie Ballet Slipper

Essie Ladylike

OPI Big Apple Red

OPI Cajun Shrimp

OPI Funny Bunny

OPI Thrill or Brazil

OPI Not Really a Waitress

Cocktail Dresses

J Peterman

Adrianna Papell

BHLDN

Ralph Lauren

Bloomingdale’s

Neiman Marcus

Podcasts

In Plain Sight

99% Invisible

Radio lab

My dad wrote a porno

Cocaine and rhinestones

S town

This American life

Revisionist history with Malcolm Gladwell

WTF with Marc Maron

How I Built This

This Podcast will Kill You

Last Seen

Apartment

Fiesta ware

Hadley pottery

Lodge cast iron

Nordic ware

Rifle paper co rugs