#solara star

[theplottdump]

M: Speaking of Aliens- wanna hear a secret? Vera: Always. M: You know Agent Star? Vera: The super serious one that works at the capital? M: 𝙐𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙘𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙣. Vera: What? No way! Why do you even know that?

M: So you know how there's like stuff that's 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵- and then there's stuff that's 𝙩𝙤𝙥 𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙩, yeah? Like how UNIT is a secret but the tub of hummus Argent keeps in her desk is top secret?

Vera: 𝘞𝘢𝘪𝘵 - Argent keeps a tub of hummus in her desk?

M: 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘴- I helped her set up a refrigerant system in one of the drawers. She gets snacky.

Vera: So 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 what that humming is!! I seriously thought it was just the sound of my anxiety during one on ones!

M: Well above that there's what we 'labrats' call the '𝗱𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝗳𝗿𝗲𝗲𝘇𝗲' secrets. Stuff reserved for only the most need to know higher ups.

Government Secrets so dangerous they get shoved all the way in the back in the server - left to be forgotten and covered up with digital frost til the end of time.

M: Every few months me and few of the lab guys over at Bridgeport HQ meet up online to race and see who can decrypt whatever deep state documents we manage to fish out of the freezer the fastest.

The prize is usually pizza.

Vera: And that's how you found out about Agent Star? M: Agent Star was just the tip of the iceberg. Turns she was transferred from this facility an hour outside of Oasis Springs. The place was running experiments on all kinds of occult kids. Vera: 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩!? That's horrible.

M: It was 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬. After the last Director died, the state took one look at it and shut it all down. Relocated all the remaining staff to Strangerville and wiped all the records- cept for what we found in the freezer. Kinda like a post mortem. Cool right?

Vera: But what happened to all the kids?

M: I dunno. Place is still locked up tight from what I managed dig up. I low-key wanna drive out and see what else is left down there sometime.

Vera: And 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 is what you do for fun? M: Eh, yeah- I mean sometimes? Just because we work for the government doesn't mean I trust them.

What do you do for fun?

Vera: I 𝘶𝘩, it's stupid. M: Try me. V: Well, after my Dad tracked me down he gave me one of his old guitars. I think he felt a little bad about the whole 𝘶𝘩- abandoned at birth thing?

M: That's cool he found you. Vera: Yeah! 𝘶𝘩𝘮. He gave me a few lessons on it - said I'm a natural, but I think he was just being nice. So 𝘶𝘩- I've been writing! M: Music?

Vera: Yeah, ah, songs. With words and all that. They're mostly rubbish. M: I bet they're great. Vera: [ 𝙨𝙣𝙤𝙧𝙩 ] You haven't heard them.

M: Well then- you should play them for me sometime! I've seen you do karaoke at the Office Holiday Parties. Vera: 𝘗𝘧𝘧𝘵, I was drunk!

Maya: 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩.

[shadethechangingman]

[ID: Illustration of Wonder Woman and the Star Riders, next to a page with theme song lyrics. Wonder Woman is flying close to the ground, while Ice, Solara, Star Lily, and Dolphin are behind her, posing and showing off their powers. End ID]

Wonder Woman and the Star Riders - Group photo and theme song lyrics

CHILDREN OF THE STARS (Theme for: WONDER WOMAN AND THE STAR RIDERS) Music: Steve Dorff Lyric: John Bettis

When we are one We are strong Standing as one Nothing can move us We can make dreams come true Like Wonder Woman and the Star Riders do When we are one Evil falls Fighting as one We save tomorrow One we will always be Children of the stars We belong together Anywhere you are I am there with you In the deepest of darks Love will shine Like a jewel in your heart And light my way to you When we are one Hand in hand Heaven and earth Come into balance We make a difference, too Like Wonder Woman and the Star Riders do When we are one There is hope Opening doors Into the future One for eternity Like Wonder Woman and the Star Riders Children of the stars We belong together anywhere you are I am there with you In the deepest of darks Love will shine Like a jewel in your heart And light my way to you

From: Wonder Woman and the Star Riders (unreleased production book), Art by José Luis García-López

[dralruni]

this dude had been living in my head for like a year and only now does he get drawn w color

(click for better quality + vers w no markings below the cut)

[wonderwomanandthestarriders]

| Blog curated by @a-soft-creature​ | Social @asoftcreature

[fctedivided]

Send me 📏 (ruler) + your muses height and I'll compare them to mine! - @suizokukans sent:

📏 + solara (145cm/4'6")

Solara may be a bit of a small size, it didn't matter to Leon. Height had no factor whatsoever to their close friendship.

[dimension20official]

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🚨TONIGHT! The premiere of Dimension 20: The Ravening War launches at 7pm ET / 4pm PT on dropout.tv (@dropouttv)

From Game Master Matthew Mercer, and starring Aabria Iyengar as Karna Solara, Anjali Bhimani as Lady Amangeaux, Zac Oyama as Colin Provolone, Lou Wilson as Thane Delissandro Katzon, and Brennan Lee Mulligan as Bishop Raphaniel Charlock.

[pupsmailbox]

SUN︰DAY ID PACK

NAMES ⌇　 aarush.　 aditya.　 aelius.　 aeolus.　 akino.　 alba.　 albert.　 altan.　 amp.　 anatoly.　 apollo.　 arun.　 aurora.　 ayden.　 blaze.　 blazetta.　 castor.　 coron.　 corone.　 cyrus.　 dawn.　 dawnique.　 day.　 daystar.　 elaine.　 eleanor.　 eliane.　 elio.　 flarette.　 halo.　 helia.　 helie.　 helio.　 helios.　 heliossa.　 hina.　 horus.　 idal.　 idalia.　 idalio.　 leo.　 phoebe.　 plasmelle.　 pollux.　 ray.　 shine.　 shines.　 shinesse.　 sol.　 solar.　 solara.　 solari.　 solarine.　 solaris.　 solarista.　 solaro.　 solei.　 soley.　 solista.　 solstice.　 solstine.　 star.　 staresse.　 sulien.　 sun.　 sunday.　 sunna.　 sunnibelle.　 sunnita.　 sunny.　 sunrise.　 sunsetta.　 sunshina.　 sunshine.

PRONOUNS ⌇　 aura/aura.　 beam/beam.　 bla/blaze.　 day/day.　 day/star.　 daystar/daystar.　 fla/flare.　 flare/flare.　 gleam/gleam.　 glow/glow.　 gold/gold.　 helio/helio.　 leo/leo.　 li/light.　 light/light.　 midday/midday.　 morning/morning.　 ray/ray.　 ri/rise.　 scald/scald.　 scold/scold.　 shi/shine.　 shine/shine.　 sol/sol.　 sol/solar.　 solar/solar.　 solstice/solstice.　 spot/spot.　 star/star.　 star/sun.　 starsun/starsun.　 stell/stellar.　 sun/beam.　 sun/shine.　 sun/sun.　 sunbeam/sunbeam.　 sunlight/sunlight.　 sunny/sunny.　 sunrise/sunrise.　 sunset/sunset.　 sunshine/sunshine.　 wa/warm.　 ☀️ . 🌞 . 🌡️ . 🌤️ . 🌥️ . 🌦️ . 🔥.

[sephirothsplaything]

☀️HOUSE SOLARA : The sun shines above all

“It is said that the Targaryens are closer to Gods than to men. However,House Solara proved that fire and blood meant little and less to them; 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥.

They have the blood of Old Valyria but they only acknowledge the Summer Islander side of them🙄

And the lore goes very crazy actually!

Fun fact! They are descents from Maegor the cruel

Members-

Visha Solara- “the everlasting sun”

Orabela Solara- “the black pearl”

Seth Solara- “the shrewd”,a twin

Senka Solara-“the fire-forged”,a twin

Demir Solara-“the dashing”

Melpomene Solara- “the star goddess” “the savage”

Me when I make a all poc original house ✨

[soleminisanction]

Putting together that list for the death of Superman introduced me to something I'd never heard of before, and now I need to do a write-up about it because it's just so 90s it makes me smile.

Picture this: it's 1993. Over in Japan, Sailor Moon has spent a little over a year rocketing up the charts as a full blown cultural phenomenon that won't slow down any time soon, and western companies want in. Only one company's going to score the license, however, and their first attempt at a localized adaptation (not a dub) was still a year away.

So what's everyone else to do? Make their own pretty fighting princess cartoons to merchandise, of course. And Mattel's first plan was to rope in DC Comics, since they already had the perfect superhero princess on hand.

Not Amethyst, Princess of Gemworld -- who, honestly, would've been an amazing fit for this in retrospect -- no no. Their plan: turn Wonder Woman into Sailor Moon.

Thus: Wonder Woman and the Star Riders.

I love how you can tell those designs were made for dolls because, just like the original She-Ra, they're about 50% hair.

Two of the other characters in this line-up are also adaptations of DC superheroines: Ice (in white/pink) and Dolphin (in blue) respectively. The other two characters, Solara (in yellow) and Star Lily (the token Black) were created for the series, though apparently Star Lily would go on to inspire a kid from the WW Rebirth comics named Star Blossom, so that's cute.

There was supposed to be a line of toys and a cartoon for this franchise, but the only thing that was ever completed was this one little 14-page comic released through a cross-promotion with Kellogg's Cinnamon Mini Buns cereal.

NGL, I find the silly little thing deeply amusing because it's just. So 90s, and so obviously written to sell toys. Like how it's set mostly in this "magical palace" mostly made up of big open rooms with like, one piece of furniture each (so you can more easily move to dolls around). Or how despite being called "the Star Riders" there's exactly two differently-colored pegasus-unicorns, one pink for Wonder Woman and one white for Dolphin, because they're presumably the most expensive dolls and parents will only be willing to spend so much money.

The villain, Purrisa, feels like they came at her from the angle of Magical Girl Catwoman. She gets to ride on a flying cowardly panther and wants to steal the heroines' magical macguffin gems because that's what the plot tended to be in these early 90s Sailor Moon rip-offs (including Sabon Moon, come to think of it).

It's interesting to see this rough approximation of early 90s girly comic art try to replicate the signature sparkles & laser beams style fighting of a magic girl battle show though.

And of course they give Diana a magic wand with a star on it. At least, I think that's what that is? The bottom kinda looks like an umbrella. Maybe she's supposed to be throwing something.

She still has the lasso. I mostly want to share this page because it's the best shots we get of Sailor Diana with the massive cape and even more massive hair. Not to mention the pink bracelets and Star Sapphire belt.

NGL, I kinda wish they would've made that doll.

So yeah, that's Wonder Woman and the Star Riders: goofy, fluffy, never got off the ground, with its toy designs mostly repurposed into something called Tenko and the Guardians of Magic. But still I think a very entertaining little time capsule.

[thelittleastarion]

"It's been centuries since I last swam," said Astarion. "I can't even say I remember how."

He gave a sharp, quick little laugh of dismissal. The one he used as a mask, to hide the ever-existent turmoil and fear that loomed beneath.

"I won't let you drown," replied Solara with the faintest hint of a smirk playing at her lips. "One step at a time, little star. We can wait here until you're ready."

"We?" Astarion echoed. "You'd stay with me? Even if it took the entire night?"

Solara smiled. "Even if it takes the rest of this age, I will stay with you."

[bookshelf-in-progress]

A Song of Starlight: A Starfall Story

For the 2023 Inklings Christmas Challenge at @inklings-challenge, he's a story set and posted on December 28th--the Feast of the Holy Innocents.

A Song of Starlight

Johannes had once considered Oskar Abel a friend. The bright young manager who ran the theater, concert hall, and opera house funded by the Diriks starfall had secured Johannes the audition with the symphony orchestra, where he'd risen to first chair and featured violinist in this Christmas season's concerts. Now, as the slim, balding young man sat stiff and stone-faced behind the paper-strewn desk in his wood-paneled office, he looked like nothing but a toadying, soulless businessman.

Through the cracked-open window, Johannes could hear the daily rumble of the city street--the rattle of carriages, the distant chime of church bells, the shouts of girls selling stardust and boys selling newspapers. An entire world unaware that this supposed friend had just sent Johannes' world crashing down.

In a low voice, Johannes asked, "What do you mean, dismissed?"

Abel straightened a stack of papers against the top of his desk. "Lady Diriks has ordered that your employment with the Diriks Symphony Orchestra come to an end."

"Now? Three days after Christmas? In the middle of concert season?"

"Our patroness saw no other alternative." Abel pushed up his wire-rimmed spectacles. "I'm certain you're aware of the theft of one of the stars from the chandelier."

"Aware? The entire orchestra's been talking about nothing else since Christmas Eve!"

"I'm afraid suspicion has fallen on you."

Johannes' blood ran cold.

The star chandelier had been planned as the crowning glory of the Diriks family's new concert hall. Their mountain starfall was the prime landing place for solara stars--the largest and brightest stars that gave off the purest white light--and the intricate silver chandelier would hold a thousand of them. Lady Diriks' own son had supervised the construction, cutting every facet of every star himself. The day before its grand unveiling, one whole star had gone missing. Lady Diriks was out for blood.

Johannes had never dreamed it would be his blood.

After the shock passed, Johannes' temper rose. "What does that have to do with me? I've never seen the star! I barely walk past the workroom!"

The manager polished his glasses. "I'm afraid the circumstantial evidence against you is strong."

"What circumstantial evidence?"

"Several witnesses maintain that you were the last one in the building before the star was stolen."

"I stay late every night. I'm the featured violinist! This could make my career! I can't practice at home when I've got two sleeping daughters."

"You have recently purchased notably more expensive clothing."

"One suit! That I've been saving up for since July! I can't play for an audience of starfall elites in my old Sunday clothes."

"Stardust has been found in your dressing room."

"Cufflinks!" As the manager's face twisted in confusion, Johannes explained, "I can't afford real star fragments. I bought glass beads filled with stardust. They look almost like the real thing, but they shattered the first time I fastened them."

None of his explanations had any effect on the manager's placid face. "Nevertheless," Abel said, putting his glasses back on his face, "until a more thorough investigation can determine the star's whereabouts, Lady Diriks has deemed it best that you not be allowed on the premises."

"And how do they plan to give the Christmas concerts? Who else is supposed to play my solos?"

"Lars Henning is quite familiar with the music."

"Henning!" Johannes spat. "He's the one who accused me, isn't he?"

The manager blinked and did not speak.

The delay, the hesitation--he might as well have said it aloud.

Henning had hated Johannes since the day he had been given first chair. Johannes had seen the contempt and envy in his eyes every moment of every day. Henning couldn't accept that a starcatcher's son could rise above a scion of one of the city's wealthiest houses.

Johannes snarled, "And he's believed because his father owns a starfall while mine only gathered the stars that fell on it!"

Abel straightened his spectacles. "I assure you that no individual witness had any effect on our patroness' decision."

It would have made all the difference in the world. Starfall stock held fast to their own.

Johannes felt like the floor was falling out from under him. His anger turned into desperation. He leaned over the desk looked into the manager's eyes. "Oskar," he said, man to man, friend to friend, "you have to help me. I've worked for years to get here. I have a wife at home. Children. They need me to bring in--"

The manager's face softened. "A man of your talent will find employment in another company."

Johannes barked a humorless laugh. "A suspected star thief? Accused by Lady Diriks herself? They won't let me near the footlights!"

The manager sighed, and for a moment, he looked almost human. "I'm very sorry, Vinter, but the decision is out of my hands."

If he were sorry, he would have done something. Instead he'd caved to their patroness' demands without question. The odious, spineless, toadying pencil-pusher. A man of business in a house of art. If Johannes shook him, his brains would probably clink like coins.

Johannes picked up his violin and stormed toward the office door. "That'll be a comfort to me when my children are in the poorhouse, I'm sure."

#

Johannes refused to slink out of the theater like a disgraced criminal, so he put on his hat, overcoat, scarf, and gloves with professional precision, took up his violin case, and strode through the main lobby of the Diriks Concert Hall. The silver chandelier sprawled overhead, its million arms curling like ocean waves. In the light of day, its thousand stars were shuttered in closed lanterns that could be opened with the turning of a single lever. The masterpiece of Lord Bastiaan Diriks himself. Johannes hoped he'd go blind from it.

A single star missing out of a thousand, and Johannes' life was destroyed--his dreams, his hopes, an entire lifetime of work. Johannes' father had nurtured his talent for music, working double shifts to pay for his music lessons and later, to cover the costs that came even to students who went to the music schools on a full scholarship.

You're made for more than the starfields, his father had said. Find a job where they don't search your pockets for stars at sunrise like you're a common thief.

Now here Johannes was, a rising violinist in a prestigious symphony orchestra, cast out for the theft of a star. He could have laughed at the irony if he'd had any heart for it.

Outside, the sky was bright but overcast, sending down a light shower of snowflakes. Carriages rattled past, horses' hooves clattering on the cobblestones. The sidewalks were crowded with the skirts of window-shopping ladies, their children gazing in awe upon the the beautiful theaters. Johannes had hoped to bring his children here someday to see him play. Clara was almost old enough to come. She and Dorit would stay home this year, but his wife Agathe had tickets for the front row on New Year's Eve.

He couldn't face them yet. Couldn't come home in the afternoon when they wouldn't expect him until after midnight. He couldn't go into a tavern or cafe. He didn't dare to waste money on dining or drinking, and had no wish for company who'd know his face and want his story.

So he walked. Up and down the streets of the cruel stone city that had once been the fulfillment of all his hopes. Past markets filled with the luxuries he'd never be able to buy his children. Past houses owned by people who didn't know what it was to struggle and scrimp and have all your dreams destroyed. Past towering churches that seemed to laugh at all his prayers.

Night came early this time of year, and soon the city was darkening to match his mood. The lampkeepers emerged to uncover the streetlamps and unveil the common yellow star fragments within. High above in the clear, cold sky, a million stars, white and distant, seemed to mock him. Johannes knew the old tales of stars falling down to make the fortune of the penniless, virtuous hero who stumbled upon the treasure. If those stories had ever had any truth to them, they were only fantasy now. Should the largest, brightest star in all the heavens fall at his feet, Lady Diriks and her like would see him thrown in prison for touching it.

Ragged urchins came out of the shadows to gather stardust that had fallen from the lamps, or to offer it as heat or light to passersby. Johannes took a pinch of warming dust offered by a dirty-faced girl, placed it in his gloves, and immediately regretted the eighth-krenin he tossed her. He was like her now--always had been, he supposed--living off whatever scraps the rich saw fit to spare him, and he could spare few coins now.

Children shouted as a carriage sped through the streets--large and glossy, with gilded scrollwork and four of its very own star lamps. Through an open curtain, Johannes glimpsed a woman in a red silk gown who wore a dozen colored star fragments as jewels in her hair. Late to the theater, no doubt.

Were Johannes still with the orchestra, he'd be tuning up now. About to play one of the finest symphonies ever written for a crowd of the city's elite--people who'd paid hundreds of krenins to hear him play.

Johannes' temper rose. Lady Diriks had money enough to keep the world's finest musicians as trained pets, and keep the music they played as a luxury for the rich. All these people in the streets around him--good-hearted housewives, grocers, seamstresses, lampkeepers, even dustgirls--could not dream of such wonders.

Johannes could give them the symphony--his part of it, at least. His violin was tuned, his fingers were trained. He could give these people music that the wealthy of the city spent hundreds to hear. If Lady Diriks didn't want him, he would give her music away.

Johannes strode into the pool of yellow light cast by the nearest star lamp. With brisk motions, he set down his case, removed his gloves, picked up his violin, and began to play.

#

Birgit rushed toward the shining pile of stardust near the lamp post. She knelt on the frozen walkway and tried to gather the glowing treasure into Mama's little clay jar. Mama said falling stardust was the cleanest--Birgit should have been here when the lampkeeper uncovered and cleaned the lamp--but maybe Birgit could wash it in the fountain near the church. She'd watched Mama do it a hundred times. Stardust floated, and she could skim it up with her cloak. Then she could take it to the glassmaker on 42nd Street. He was kindest and gave the most coins.

Birgit had to sell all the stardust she could. Stardust meant coins, which meant clothes and bread and maybe a bed. There was no Mama to get these things. Mama was cold and white and stiff, and Birgit was too afraid to go in the room with those open, frozen eyes.

The memory of this morning put tears in Birgit's eyes. She wasn't crying. She was too big to cry--nearly six years old. But with no Mama--there was no Mama--Birgit felt very small, and the world felt very big and dark and cold. The icy wind sent cold knives through Birgit's threadbare cloak. She huddled against the lamp post and felt too sad and afraid to move.

In the light of the next lamp, a man stopped. He wore a thick brown coat and had shiny black boots. The lamplight made him glow, like the angels holding stars in the big church. Birgit sat up and watched.

The man set a case on the ground and pulled out a fiddle. Then he began to play.

Birgit had heard fiddles before, in taverns and on street corners, but this fiddle sang as those fiddles never had. Its voice was sweet and soft, rich and pure, like angels or lullabies. It sang to the stars, its voice reaching, stretching, quavering, making Birgit think of being warm in Mama's arms.

The song became louder, faster, richer, warmer. It made Birgit think of dancing, of candles, of the big church on Copper Hill. The cold, dark world fell away. Birgit forgot who and where she was. She knew only the music, beautiful and bright, so real that everything else seemed like shadows. Her spirit swam, soared, and danced, following the song high and low, happy and sad, joy and sorrow and so many feelings that Birgit thought she might burst. Stars surrounded her, all sizes and colors, coming down from heaven to hear the music with her.

After eternity had come and gone, the song slowed and faded away, and Birgit was herself again--cold and alone, but no longer afraid.

The music was a warm and glowing treasure in her heart, a bright, beautiful secret that no one could take away from her. And on the ground, in the lamplight, was money. Big silver coins and little copper ones, sitting in and around the man's black case. The stars had brought it, Birgit knew. She knew the stories, had seen it herself. They had come to the call of the music and turned into money. Money that meant clothes and fire and bread for sad and lonely girls.

Birgit forgot to be tired and rushed toward the money. It had fallen from heaven, so it was free to take, just like stardust. She gathered handfuls of coins, holding them close against her dress.

And then a shadow blocked the starlamp, and Birgit remembered to be afraid again.

#

Johannes saw the stars surround him as he played. At Christmastime, everyone who owned anything with the faintest claim toward being a piece of star jewelry--whether it was a fragment in a necklace, a shard in a ring, or even just some stardust on a hair comb--would wear it on the street. The people that surrounded him wore stars in all colors and sizes, but he could barely do more than glance at them, because the music had him in its thrall.

When Johannes emerged from the song, he was surprised to see the coins at his feet. At first, he was ashamed--he, classically trained, being thrown coins like a common beggar. But that was what he was now, or would be. Once the story spread, respectable people might refuse to give him even coins.

A small, ragged form darted out of the shadows started swiping coins from his case. Johannes' blood rose. The dirty little urchin! Were the creatures everywhere? A plague, an infestation on this city, stealing food from his children's mouths.

Johannes lunged for the coins, prepared to fight off the thief.

The thief looked up, and they met, face-to-face. She was young. A child. As young as his little Clara--no, younger. With sunken cheeks, unbrushed brown hair, bony hands, fingers and nails blue from the cold. Her little gray cloak was thinner than his shirt. Her shoes, scuffed and tattered, barely fit on her feet.

She had nothing, this tiny girl, fighting for her life in the cold, hard city. And he, with a thick overcoat, new shoes, a warm house, and a violin worth a small fortune, had been prepared to fight her for a handful of krenin. Johannes was ashamed of himself.

As the child stared at him, frozen with terror, Johannes gathered a handful of coins and dumped them into the girl's lap. He placed a fatherly hand on her shoulder.

"Little girl," he asked. "Do you have somewhere to get out of the cold?"

#

Agathe, bless her, understood everything. She gave the child--Birgit--a warm bath and a clean set of clothes--Clara's smallest were still too large on her--while Johannes told her what he had gathered of the girl's history. Her mother dead just this morning--frozen to death, by the sound of it. She had no lice, thank goodness, nor signs of any catching disease, so they gave her a cot near the kitchen stove, after feeding her what they thought she could safely stomach of thin porridge and plain bread.

As Birgit curled up beneath a pink-and-white patchwork quilt, she looked something like a kitten snuggling before a fire, not so different from Clara at that age. She clutched the cloth bag full of coins--she insisted on calling it "star money"--to her chest like a rag doll

"We could take her to the sisters in the morning," Agathe said. "They'll know what to do with her."

"She may have family still living. I could make inquiries."

He'd have time to, now that he was not needed at the concert hall.

"I should have been playing onstage just then," Johannes said. "If I hadn't been there, what would have become of her?" He had a sudden vision of that little face, white and frozen in an alleyway, unseen by dozens of comfortably prosperous people passing by.

Agathe took his hand. "You had far more important places to play tonight."

Johannes looked down upon his wife, the lamplight giving her brown hair an angelic glow. He'd been so concerned for himself--his loss of status, the death of dreams--and so afraid of disappointing his wife and children. Yet his saintly little wife saw only the good this disaster had brought.

"What about tomorrow?" Johannes asked softly. "And all the days after? The story will spread. I may not get work with another orchestra."

"People know you," Agathe said firmly. "They ought to know that the man who'd take in a starving child would never steal a star. If they don't know it, you don't want to play for them."

"Who else can I play for?" Johannes asked. "We can't raise two girls off of coins from the street. I have no other trade."

"Talent like yours will find release. On another city's stage. As a teacher. Even if you only play at home, it will do some good in the world. Whatever happens, God will provide." She squeezed his hand. "It is nice to have you home at Christmastime for a change."

In the distance, church bells chimed the hour. Snowflakes fell softly outside the window. The white walls of the kitchen were bright and clean, the room warm and cozy. This was more pleasant than a practice room.

Boards creaked heavily in the hall, and two small, bleary-eyed girls in white nightdresses peered into the kitchen.

"Girls," Agathe cried, moving toward them. "What are you doing up?"

Clara and Dorit raced past her, their faces alight with joy. "Papa!" Clara shrieked, throwing her arms around his waist. Dorit pressed her face against his legs. Johannes crouched to gather them in his arms.

"You're home early!" Clara said as Johannes pressed a kiss into her hair.

"I couldn't spend another night away from my girls," Johannes said.

Birgit started awake, sitting upright and wide-eyed as she goggled at the riotous little intruders.

Dorit tugged at Johannes' sleeve. "Who's that?"

How to explain a dustgirl--unimaginable poverty and desperation--to such innocents? "She's a little friend who needed a place to sleep. I met her when I was playing my violin on the street."

Clara seized one of her Johannes' wrists and tried to drag him toward where his violin case sat on the kitchen table. "Can you play for us, Papa? We haven't had any Christmas music yet! You give it all to everyone else."

Johannes was startled. When was the last time he'd played for the girls? He'd spent so much time practicing at the concert hall lately, living deep within the symphony, that he hadn't considered how little music they had in their lives.

On the cot, little Birgit sat with tangled hair and dark circles under her eyes. Johannes told his daughters, "Maybe tomorrow. Our guest needs to sleep."

The girls broke into an outcry of, "No!" and "Please, Papa!"

To his surprise, one of the voices was a small, raspy one from the cot.

Johannes crouched beside the little dustgirl. "Would you like to hear some music?"

The little girl's eyes glowed with wonder, as if he'd just offered to do magic. "Please," she whispered.

Johannes clapped his hands against his knees. "Very well." He sprang to his feet and removed his violin from its case with a flourish. It glowed golden-brown in the lamplight, and seemed to be quivering--almost alive--beneath his fingers. He placed the rest between his chin and held the bow over the strings.

He basked in the glow of in his warm little kitchen, with snowflakes falling outside, surrounded by the shining eyes of his wife and daughters and one adoring little dustgirl. He was home with his family instead of hidden away in a practice room. A child who might not have survived the night was now warm and safe. What were concerts, accusations, and even Lars Henning's jealousy, compared to that? All troubles could wait until morning. For now, Johannes would be grateful.

With a smile, Johannes touched his bow to the strings and played a song about a Christmas star.

[theplottdump]

( End of Arc )

transcript under the cut

Valerian: Enjoy all that new power Solara. Unfortunately, I've got places to be. HANSEL, time to leave. HANSEL: Yes Sir. I'll meet you in the car.

Valerian: HANSEL, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Krause: Madame Director. With all our security systems down, I'm afraid I've just learned your grandso- Valerian Plott has escaped the facility.

Sade: Let him go. He'll think he's won, but with our resources and agents we can track him down easily. He has no one to go back to, and he knows that we'll always be one step behind him. Waiting for any slip up, any one mistake. Breathing down his neck.

Sade: Dismissed.

(end of arc)

[shadethechangingman]

[ID: Profile page for Solara from Star Riders. She has long pink hair, a pink tiara, peachy skin, blue eyes, a yellow bodysuit with pink tutu, bracelets, belt, and boots. She has an eight-pointed star outlined in pink on her chest, connected to a pink necklace. Her earrings are yellow, and she is wearing a pink cape with a collar and yellow frilly interior. There is text in a circle above her with yellow radiating from it, and more text to the side of her. A peach star is in the bottom left. End ID]

Solara: Guardian of the Sun’s Rays

Page text: Many dawns ago, high atop the Aztec Pyramid, the winged spirit of the Sun foretold the great purpose of Solara. That was the day she arrived on Earth. Her hair was the brilliant color of daybreak. The magnificence of the Sun shone from within her. Now, with the help of her luminous powers, all living things on Earth can flourish and grow strong.

The radiant Jewel of the Sun is in Solara's care. She guards against foes who would block the Sun's life-giving rays, or would force its blaze to scorch the Earth. She understands that the potent jewel she defends can be used for good or evil. Her own fiery light can blind the Sun's enemies or melt menacing ice and snow. Solara brings passion and warmth to her adventures with the Star Riders, and also devotes her energies to a job as a photographer.

From: Wonder Woman and the Star Riders (unreleased production book), Art by José Luis García-López

[dralruni]

moodboards for my ocs, Solara Phy and Commander Slugthrower!! will probably unload a ton of info on them soon :3

[wonderwomanandthestarriders]

| Blog curated by @a-soft-creature​ |

[fctedivided]

Send "Icons only" and something for my muse to react to - @suizokukans sent:

Icons Only + Solara accidentally splashing Leon with water