#The Ink Repository

[the-ink-repository]

MAY THE DREAD WOLF TAKE YOU

[delicateperspective]

The Observer (Observed)

Either someone is deep in the Lore or LT3 era has begun.

Edit: I guess I am going to turn this post into a masterpost of sorts. I go more into detail about what I think this might be here (hint: not Louis).

But for now just please play it safe:

Don’t give them personal information.

Don’t engage in DMs with them.

Keep a healthy skepticism.

TIMELINE:

Twitter user @FromTheObserver was created on March 9th 2025.

At the time it first tweeted, it's pfp was a lavender eye with the roman numberals for 369.

The bio was "Through the looking glass the observer watches, craving what is just beyond reach."

The cover image was the below (MORE ABOUT THIS ARTWORK AT THE END):

At 2:44 GMT PM its first tweet said:

"The silence is broken. At last I return. Did your faith in the future endure, or did it waiver in my absence? You have waited, perhaps doubted, but the silence was never empty. I am ever present, hidden just beyond the veil. -The Observer

At 4:55 PM The Observer tweeted again:

Have you forgotten me so soon? -The Observer

At 7:44 PM Louis' official account tweeeted:

India I had no idea what to expect but you turned up in full force. From Doncaster to Mumbai. Fucking mind blowing! Thank you!

People started digging. "The Observer" appeared in a list of songs someone found on the French Music Directory SACEM. They first tweeted this list on February 2nd 2025.

I was able to confirm the listing at this link.

It is important to note though, that this lists SONY MUSIC PUBLISHING FRANCE as a sub-publisher and Reservior, Big Life Songs, and Inconnu Editur as publishers.

If we compare this to an LT released song, SILVER TONGUES, that ALSO has Sony listed as the subpublisher. So that doesn't debunk this as a real possible upcoming song.

For those who were saying that since it's sony he wouldn't use it. It appears Sony still has some claws in him. But thats normal in the music industry. A SUB-PUBLISHER doesn't mean he has a Sony deal again. It just means that BMG might not have the reach he needs in France to distribute so they'd rather pay someone else to do it.

I'd also like to point out that I could not verify this or any of the other songs on any American or UK repository like BMI or ACE.

I feel really uncomfortable digging into potential songs of Louis' knowing how badly he doesn't like the tracklist leaked. So this will be my extent of my digging on THIS SUBJECT. (But please feel free to let me know if I got anything wrong or I am missing something)

On March 10th, 2025:

At 1:30 AM The Observer tweeted:

I told you… But did you listen? -The Observer

Louis followed Lolla India sometime before 10:19 AM (based on the HL Daily update)

LTHQ Posted a Tiktok of Louis' show at Eletric Brixton around 4:38 PM (based on the HL Daily update)

Louis posted a reel from his time in India at 7:25 PM

At 10:00 PM (20:00) The Observer posted:

Day 1, 20:00 It’s eerily quiet in the laboratory today. - The Observer

At the time of this tweet, their pfp was the same lavender eye. HOWEVER the 369 roman numerals were gone. Replaced by a 7 (Or maybe a 1?). (For information about Louis' connection to the number 7, see this masterpost by @so-idialed-9.

On March 11th, 2025:

Louis poasted a pictures and video for Soccer Aid at 9:13 AM

Louis followed Soccer Aid on Instagram at 10:53 AM

Louis liked a photo from Soccer Aid of his 28 jersey at 1:44 PM

At 10:00 PM (20:00) The Observer tweeted again:

Day 2, 20:00 Watching from the outside, I can only hope not to become one of them. Perhaps I already have… Is it too late for me? -The Observer

The pfp at this time replaced the 7 with a 2.

On March 12th, 2025:

At 3:12 PM The Obsever Tweeted:

Day 3, 15:12 How can I change what’s already been written? If the past is in permanent ink, can the future ever be a blank page? -The Observer

At this time the pfp updated to a red 3 at the bottom.

Around 4:00 PM CST Louis followed footballer Jermain Defoe on Insta.

Also on this day, a pretty TeRrIbLe article from The Standard dropped, essentially making fun of 28, Louis, and his fans.

We also get a "Rome Unseen" of Harry drinking coffee with a friend and yelling at stalkers trying to take his picture.

On March 13th, 2025:

At 3:12 PM The Observer tweeted:

Day 4, 15:15 Inhale. Exhale. Surrender to what’s beyond control. -The Observer

Pretty telling for a fandom that is crashing out over circumstances outside of anyones control.

The number in the pfp changes to a white 4 in the right hand corner.

Louis doesn't move on this day.

On March 14th, 2025:

At 6:20 AM The Observer tweeted:

The shadow consumes the light. A fleeting moment where past, present, and future collide. Do you see it? Observe. -The Observer

It is important to note that there was a Blood Moon Lunar eclipse that could be seen in London just before dawn. "Stargazers around the world caught the first sign of the lunar event, which began at 05:09 GMT, on a livestream run by LA's Griffith Observatory."

Note the nod to the Observatory, to shadow consuming light.

The pfp stays the white 4 during this tweet.

At 3:18 PM The Observer tweeted:

Day 5, 15:18 Across a million futures, one constant endures. -The Observer

Sound familiar? If you are a Larrie, it should. Mr. "souces say he has trouble with long term relationships" used a similar line in his "You Are Home" promo.

(personal opinion here. take with a grain of salt. this has confirmed for me that Louis has nothing to do with this account. This line was too loud when H tweeted it. It didn't fit any narrative. It wasn't even related to anything on the album. This and the "half way home" debacle were some of the craziest wtf is going on here moments in the You Are Home tweet saga. If this had anything to do with his work or career, Louis would stay far away from using lines this closely tied to Harry.)

The pfp updates to a white 5 (which really looks like an upside down 2)

At 6:00 PM LTHQ posted an IG reel from India.

On March 15th, 2025:

At 10:00 AM The Observer tweeted and immediately deleted:

"A true observer must always be watching. Blink, and you'll miss what matters most. 625 369 825 007 326 028 -The Observer"

369 and 28 are both intrinscly linked to Louis and can be found in the masterpost at the begining. 007 is typically a reference to James Bond which Harry is a favorite to perfom the next James Bond song or play him.

HOWEVER, 625, 825, and 326 could possibly be month/years. As in June 2025, August 2025, and March 2026.

Louis is playing in Soccer Aid on June 15th 2025. (THIS COMES INTO PLAY IN A FEW DAYS. Approximately 40% of the articles about Louis' new stunt involve his involvement in SoccerAid and how he will be on the team with his stunt's very recent ex.)

Should we be looking for August 2025 and March 2026 events as well?

At 9:45 PM The Observer tweeted:

"Day 6, Unkown Too quick to catch, too fleeting to frame in memory. But a true observer is always taking notes. -The Observer"

The pfp updated to a white 6 (at the three oclock position)

On March 16th, 2025:

We got two posts again this day.

At 9:30 AM The Observer tweeted:

Day 7, Unknown How did we end up here? -The Observer

The past two posts have stated that the time is "Unknown" instead of giving us UK time. Have we stopped tracking the time? Have we moved timezones?

The pfp updated to a white 7 at this time as in accordance with the dart board.

At 11:30 PM The Observer tweeted:

Silent? Silenced. Patience. Observe. -The Observer

The first part of this refers to an Oprah interview.

The implication is that someone has not CHOSEN to be silent. They've been made to be silent. However, if we - as the audience - are patient, we can observe what they cannot say.

The pfp updates now. There are no numbers. The pupil is smaller and we can see what appears to be eyelashes in the top right corner.

On March 17th, 2025:

We ge two posts again today. But it's what happens in between that makes it important.

At 8:25 PM The Observer tweets:

Day 8, 20:25 No key to turn, no doors to guide A journey taken, far and wide The walls unfamiliar, the roads unknown A wandering soul, yet not alone -The Observer

The pfp updates back to the original eye with a white 8. Which looks oddly like an infinity sign as the circles are elongated.

First thing to note is that were back on UK time. The second - your intepretation of this tweet will matter to how authentic you think this account is. For me - when I saw "no key to turn, no doors to open". I immediately thought of the tattoo Harry has on his ribs of a birdcage with no door. Next to his drama masks. Above the SMCL (smile more cry later?) tattoos. There isn't a keyhole nor a door to this closet. The "you are home" door is closed, it cannot be opened.

Yet the last line of the 28 word (if you include the signature) poem leaves us hopeful. Despite the distance, the walls, the unknown roads, there’s an undercurrent of connection

Then an hour and a half later at 10:00 PM on the dot The Sun gives us our very first confirmation article of Louis' new stunt. Which I will not speak about in depth on this post. If you want more info, my page is full of it, but I don't want to muddy this post with that.

At 11:55 PM we get another tweet from The Observer:

Fabricated fairytales, observed by all. -The Observer

The pfp does not change.

The "fabricated fairytales" is a line from Louis' She is Beauty, We Are World Class. (my intrepretation of that song is here if you're into that kind of thing.) This is in direct response to the stunt. It is not mincing words or leaving room for interpretation by the timing. It is saying "this is a fake romance and now the world is watching".

On March 18th, 2025:

At 8:35 PM The Observer tweets:

Day 9, 20:35 Nearly Halfway Home. A long journey, but well worth it. -The Observer

The pfp uppdates to a green 9 as per the dart board.

The tweet itself, needs lore to explain.

On April 1st 2022, Louis registered a song Halfway Home. This registration can still be confirmed here.

THEN on April 13th 2022 (two weeks later), the You Are Home account for Harry's House promo tweeted "half way home"

Home, as a concept, has always deeply tied to both Louis and Harry and both of them together. The lore goes deep, but a summary is here.

The capitalization of Halway and Home, directs us to the song name.

But if were intepreting, it's also telling us that there is a plan in place. And though its a long way out, we're nearly halfway there and it will be worth it in the end.

On March 19th, 2025:

At 2:28 PM The Observer tweets:

Day 10, 14:28 A fresh set of eyes, born from little white lies. -The Observer

The pfp changes to a white 10.

Little White Lies is a clear refrence to the One Direction song, Little White Lies.

Bare with my little larrie heart here (but since this account is obviously also a larrie I'd be suprised if you aren't too) but Louis is in the headlines more than hes been in a decade right now. The PR is PRing. There are a whole new set of eyes on him. All because he's selling the story of some "little white lies".

DARTBOARD THEORY AND UPDATES

At this point, to anyone who is paying attention, it's become clear that the numbers represent a dart board.

See the most recent overlay below:

There have been a lot of recent theories revolving around dart boards after Louis posted one while he was in New Orleans for the superbowl and then followed a darts player on Instagram.

As to keep this unbiased and not tied to further speculation, I won't comment on the connection around all of the other people in Louis' life that have posted pictures of dart boards recently (just know that his sisters, Pleasing, Lamby, Niall, and more have posted dart boards - usually with the dart in the triple 20 spot). HOWEVER, darts has always been popular in the UK and its growing in popularity with the younger crowd recently. It's entirely possible that Louis just loves a game of darts at the local, and his sisters' boyfriends do to, and he's watching competive darts lately (especially the first openly gay dart player who is super popular right now), and Pleasing thought somehow darts were Valentine's day imagery.

EXTRA STUFF & FINAL THOUGHTS

As mentioned by this Twitter user, the artwork is pretty well likely AI generated (plus a little Canva/Photoshop for the numbers). It has all the tell-tale signs of generative AI (wonkey lines, misproportions, etc).

Louis has entire teams of graphic designers plus Joshua Halling (who loves this skind of thing) in his back pocket. He wouldn't need AI for any of this.

At this point, The Observer is definitely an interesting mystery, but whether it’s something to pay attention to or just a fan-run account remains to be seen. The AI-generated images are a major red flag—it’s hard to imagine Louis or his team relying on AI when he has actual designers and photographers on hand. Even his more cryptic rollouts in the past have been visually polished and intentional.

That said, the timing of the tweets, the SACEM song listing, and the number symbolism do make it intriguing enough to keep an eye on. If this is a fan project, they’re clearly deep in the lore and know how to grab attention.

Key Takeaways:

Be cautious. If this is a fan messing around, engaging too seriously could be dangerous to your online safety.

Don’t assume it’s official.

It's probably not connected and Louis probably knows nothing about it. If it is somehow connected it will become obvious soon. If it's not (way more likely), it’ll probably fade out like other fandom mysteries before it.

For now? I’m just observing The Observer. 👀

[wine-stained-diaries]

This WIP may just be the death of me because it has gone through so many changes at this point. Figured you all deserved a snippet in case it actually kills me. May be related to that fanfiction I am hammering away at (the outline is currently at 32 chapters) about an alternate 'bad ending' to Veilguard.

It'll be called 'The Atonement of Fen'Harel'.

Artwork will go up on @the-ink-repository when it is finished.

[gothicprep]

I also got in a ton of trouble in 5th grade because I’d write this newsletter called “cheese weekly” every Friday.

the premise? There wasn’t one. It was just a repository of the jokes I’d write when I was done with my classwork and didn’t have anything else to do. I printed a lot of them and handed them out during recess.

My parents were called in about this. My mom echoed the concerns of my teacher and told me that I shouldn’t waste printer ink. My dad told me that it was good that I was being creative. Take a wild guess which parent I’m closer with lmfao.

[redd956]

Protolanguages & Conlang Youtubers & More

As a worldbuilder one thing big thing I occasionally decide to take part in is protolanguages and conlangs. Worldbuilding a language can be quite difficult. One thing that has helped me tremendously is a select few channels, communities, and resources.

Biblaridion

Youtuber number one being showcased today. His whole channel is all about conlanging, worldbuilding, and fun biology stuff. He has amazing tutorials in working on protolanguages and conlangs.

Etymology Nerd

I don't think this guy is human, but we're all going to pretend he is for now. You want to know anything about languages, conlangs, linguistics, dialects, etymology, anything words and language- look to this guy. He not only is incredibly entertaining, but I have learned so much from him in the very little time I've discovered his content.

Learning About Language First

A good place to start is learning about the nuances and funnies of language. One of my favorite videos in this category is this one. Go explore, look into languages you like or want to learn, etc.

r/conlangs

Some of Favorites:

Tsevhu (Koilang) by Koallary

Language that is drawn through the lens of an inked out koi pond. Yes, you are looking at a poem. Yes. A whole poem right there.

A'e'i'a (Dolphin Language) by Etymology Nerd

I can't make this shit up. Don't worry he has more animal languages, and has even started created Creole between them.

Baksami (Circular Script) by MeatThatTalks

CIRCLE SCRIPT! CIRCLE SCRIPT! CIRCLE SCRI-

[idontknowwhattoputasmyusernameee]

Intimidation

Word Count: 3K

Pairing: rots!Anakin x fem!reader

Warnings: none just fluff, but let me know if I've missed anything.

A/N: I have had this sitting for so long and I've been itching to post it. It is my very first imagine, so we'll see how this does. Probably have many more to come.

He was intimidating.

There was something about him that was hard to place. 

The way he looked was something out of a fairytale; his eyes were hard and steely, his jawline strong and sharp, his lips pink and pouty. He moved with confidence in the room, his steps controlled yet graceful. His presence seemed to demand respect from those around him.

He was definitely attractive.

Too attractive to be a Jedi. 

You felt a heavy, electric pressure on the side of your face. Every time you tried to sneak a peek at him from the corner of your eye, he would be looking downward or up towards the ceiling, avoiding any kind of eye contact.

You tried to ignore the magnetic pull of Anakin's gaze, but it was impossible. Every time his eyes met yours, you felt a wave of heat wash over you and your heart seemed to skip a beat. You knew deep down that this couldn't be real, that perhaps your infatuation with him was causing you to imagine things that weren't really there.

Mace Windu's deep voice cut through the daydream,“That's all for today," he said firmly. He gave you all a slight nod. “May the force be with you,” he added before turning away.

You stood up stretching your aching limbs. You hated these debriefings, feeling drained after every one. A quick glance showed the faces of the Jedi Knights in the room were heavy too, etched with fatigue. Reports flashed on the hologram in the middle of the room, grim reminders that loss and death had become unavoidable realities in this war and there was no end in sight.

Not something you would want to hear at eight in the morning. You were just glad that you had the day off, so a nap sounded like an amazing idea. 

The crowd around you began to surge forward, and you were soon engulfed in a sea of people, all jostling for the exit. Suddenly, your foot caught on something and you stumbled, throwing out your arms as you tumbled forward, into the broad chest of a large man. He caught you quickly, his grip strong and sure.

As you started to apologize, you looked up into the face of none other than Anakin Skywalker himself. He was standing there holding your arm, smiling kindly.

"Careful there," he teased, you felt his fingers slowly slid from your forearm to your shoulders to steady you.

A flush crept up your cheeks as you tried to look away, the intensity of his cerulean eyes too much to bear. You were suddenly acutely aware of the sound of your own breathing and the warmth radiating from his body.

You avoided eye contact, mumbled an apology, and scurried away from him as you felt your face heat up. You tried to disappear into the background but could feel his piercing gaze burning a hole in your back.

Anakin Skywalker, the Jedi Knight renowned for his exceptional piloting skills and his connection to the Force, had always intrigued you. From afar, you had admired his bravery and determination, but up close, his presence was overwhelming. His mere gaze sent shivers down your spine, and his captivating smile left you momentarily breathless.

It was safe to say that Anakin Skywalker intimidated you.

…

The Jedi library was a grand room, encompassing almost an entire section of the temple. Shelves adorned with ancient manuscripts, scrolls, and books lined the walls; each tome a repository of knowledge from across the galaxy. The scents of parchment paper and aged ink filled the air, while glowstones illuminated the space in a soft, ethereal light. Tables were arranged in circular clusters like small islands in a sea of knowledge, beckoning exploration. It was as if all the secrets of the universe had been contained within these walls, offering solace and tranquility for those who sought it.

And yet...

There had been another encounter earlier in the afternoon.

It embarrassed you to no end how awkward you were with the man. But something about him made you freeze, run away, and hide. 

Earlier before coming to the library you had just left the meditation chambers, relaxed and fully focused for whatever study sesh you were diving into. Stepping into the elevator , you hit the button for the ground level. Not even two seconds later a voice called out to you. 

“Hold it for me please.” The voice, you recognized to be Anakin’s called out for you.

Maybe it was a slip of your finger, or the instinct to run away. Whatever it was, the doors closed right in Anakin’s face.

The moment you realized what you had done you let out a sigh of frustration. What was wrong with you? Why couldn’t you just be normal? 

Now the situation was eating you up inside as you flipped each dusty page of one of the thousands of books in the library. The frown on his face engraved in your mind. He probably thought you were a freak. 

You groaned into your hands, earning a shush from other people around you. 

“What’s got you in such a sour mood?” A female voice suddenly questioned, causing you to jump slightly. 

Ashoka Tano stood above you a brow raised at your stressed out figure. Although she was barely sixteen and you nineteen, the two of you were very good friends.

“Kriff Ashoka, why are you in here? Aren’t you banned from the library?” You questioned.

She rolled her eyes,”Actually it was a one year ban, and not that it matters but it was mostly Anakin’s fault.”

“Right, he knocked half of the shelves down and destroyed a quarter of the ancient language books.” You snickered. 

“He started it !” She exclaimed defensively.

“Shh!” You whispered harshly. “Keep your voice down, unless you want to get banned again.”

“Okay okay,” she whispered back,”what are you working on?”

“Master Yoda asked me to give a quick rundown on a newly charted planet, so far I haven’t really found anything worth mentioning.” You answered, flipping open another book.

“Boo, sounds boring,” she said, with a mischievous gleam in her eye. She grabbed your wrist and tugged you up from the chair. “Let’s go get lunch.”

“Right now?” You asked in shock.

“Yes now, I heard they’re serving pasta.”

Your eyes widened with excitement and you leaned forward, intrigued. "What kind of pasta?" 

A mischievous grin spread across her face and she ticked off on her fingers, "Lasagna, fettuccine Alfredo, spaghetti carbonara..."

“Alright I’m sold,”you grabbed her hand,”let’s go.”

…

“Then he had the audacity to ask me if I’ve been paying attention,” Ashoka shook her head,”The nerve.”

“Mmm,” You hummed in agreement,”Well were you?” you asked, taking a sip of blue milk.

She gave you a coy smile,”Well…I was staring at Enzo's ferociously large biceps.”

You choked on your drink, taken aback by the words that slipped out of her mouth. 

Ashoka gently rested her hand on your back and gave a few light pats as you coughed. She smiled with amusement,"Oh look, how convenient."

She pointed over to Anakin who had just walked into the cafeteria. His eyes swept across the room, then stopped when they met yours. He started walking towards you with a determined stride. You felt all the air in your lungs disappear, and your stomach seemed to somersault inside of you. Every step he took felt like an eternity as his gaze stayed locked on yours.

You felt your heart hammering in your chest and a wave of nausea fill your stomach. As every ounce of common sense told you to bolt away from the table, you were physically unable to move anything except for your hands, which trembled as your fingers tightened on the edge of the table.

What was happening to you?

“Sorry I took so long, I got caught up in conversation with Master Mundi," Anakin sighed heavily, sitting down across from you and Ashoka. "Also the elevator took a while ,” he added, looking directly at you.

You almost went into another coughing fit. 

“Master, what a nice surprise,” Her face then broke into a mischievous grin. “You remember Y/N, right Anakin?”

Your cheeks flushed red as he looked your way.

“Of course,” he said smoothly. “How have you been Y/N?”

You smiled politely, “Good.” 

“Y/N was just about to-"

"Leave, actually," you interrupted her.Your plate was still mostly full, but you couldn't bear the tension and discomfort that had already set in. You didn't dare meet Anakin's gaze again, and instead busied yourself with gathering your things. 

Ashoka shot you a confused look, but didn't try to stop you as you stood up from the table.

Anakin looked taken aback, but recovered quickly. "Oh, alright. See you around, then," he said with a small smile.

"Uh, yeah. See you." You managed to squeeze out the words before practically sprinting out of the cafeteria.

Once outside, you leaned against the closest wall and took deep breaths to steady yourself. You couldn't believe how much power Anakin Skywalker had over you - a mere acquaintance at best. You had never been so thrown off balance by anyone before.

...

With your overthinking mind, you had concluded that they were playing a prank on you. It was probably your sleep deprived mind or your coffee addiction that fueled this thinking. But, Anakin and Ashoka were up to something.

Every time you showed up to see Ashoka, she would beam from ear to ear and let out an excited, “Oh, Anakin’s here!” You could feel your cheeks flush as the Jedi Knight appeared and you scrambled to come up with a plausible excuse to leave.

Even when you weren't with Ashoka, he would somehow be conveniently around you. It was as if he were seeking you out.

No matter where she went, Anakin seemed to materialize out of thin air. In the vast hallways, as soon as he appeared at the corner she'd quickly turn around and hurry in the opposite direction. When walking around the temple grounds, there he was again; standing tall against the rising sun, his features illuminated by a solitary ray of light.

It's been two weeks, and quite frankly you were starting to become exhausted with this charade or whatever thing this was. 

The only places where you could find solitude were your quarters and the library. 

So that's were you found yourself today, in the Temple Library.

Your fingers were tangled in your hair, which fell wildly around your face. Crisp pages of books lay open amongst a scattering of pens and highlighters on the table.

Two hands slammed in front of you, making you look up. You jumped in surprise.

“Alright spill,"Ashoka demanded with impatience.

“Spill what?” You tried to act nonchalant.

Ashoka rolled her eyes, “You know what. Why are you avoiding Anakin?"

“I’m not avoiding him,”You mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest, looking away from the other girl. 

"Not what I heard," she countered, folding her own arms, matching you stance. When the silence continued, she sighed,” Y/N, I know you like him."

You stared blankly at Ashoka with disbelief clear in your stare. She knew. Of course she knew. It was so obvious. 

"Plus he's been whining to me for the past couple of weeks."

"Whining?" You repeated, taken aback.

Ashoka nodded, "Yeah, he's been complaining about how you've been avoiding him like the plague. He thinks you hate him or something." Her voice grew n octave lower, trying to imitate him,"Does she not like me? Am I being too forward? Did I do something wrong?"

You couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of Anakin Skywalker whining to Ashoka about you.

"I don't hate him," you finally admit. "I just...don't know how to act around him."

"You act the same way you always do," Ashoka shrugged. "He's just a person,Y/N. It pains me to say it but... a really attractive person." she made a quiet gagging noise.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help but feel a small flutter in your chest at her words.

"Just talk to him," she encouraged. "I promise he's not that scary." 

"Alright," you nodded,"I'll try."

...

This was not what you were expecting. You hoped to corner him in one of the many hallways, but instead you were stuck with him and Ashoka in an elevator.

"How long has it been?" Anakin asked.

"Five minutes,"Ashoka answered.

The air inside was starting getting thick from all of the carbon dioxide being exhaled from your lungs. You shifted uncomfortably, finding yourself caught between Anakin and Ashoka. The small space felt too intimate, and you could feel Anakin’s eyes on you even if you refused to look his way.

"Alright, I've had it," Ashoka quickly stood up, igniting one of her sabers to cut a large enough hole to jump through. "I'm going to get help, be right back."

"Ashoka!" Anakin yelled,"That's not smart."

But she ignored him, jumping above the elevator and vanishing out of sight.

You had just been left alone in an elevator with Anakin Skywalker. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you couldn't help but wonder if this had all been a setup. Ashoka's sudden exit made it feel like an ambush, as if the two of them had planned to leave you alone together.

The silence between the two of you was agonizingly uncomfortable. You couldn't bring yourself to look at Anakin, so you kept your gaze trained straight ahead.

"So," Anakin finally broke the silence. "You've been avoiding me."

You bit your lip, unsure of how to respond. It wasn't like you could tell him that he made you nervous just by existing.

"I haven't been avoiding you," you lied, feeling guilty for not being truthful.

Anakin let out a small laugh, "Right. Because turning around and walking the other way every time you see me is totally normal."

You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment. He had noticed after all.

"I'm sorry," you finally admitted. "I don't know what to say around you."

Anakin turned to face you, his expression softening,"That's alright."

"I've been meaning to talk to you actually,"you started, finding a sudden burst of courage. "I um... well Ashoka said that, you..."

He waited patiently, raising an eyebrow in encouragement. You took a deep breath before continuing.

"Ashoka said that you might have feelings for me," you blurted out, feeling your face heat up even more at the admission. 

"Well its about time you noticed,"he chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I've been waiting weeks for you to figure it out."

Even though you knew it to be true, you couldn't help the wave of shock that passed over you at his confession. You had never expected Anakin Skywalker to have feelings for someone like you.

"So you do like me?" you stupidly asked.

He laughed, his eyes lighting up in a way that made you feel like you were the only person in the galaxy. "Of course I like you," he said, slowly stepping towards you. "Was it not obvious?"

You felt your heart beating faster as Anakin drew closer, finally standing right in front of you. You could smell the musky scent of his cologne and it sent shivers down your spine.

"I never realized," you admitted sheepishly, feeling ashamed for not noticing something so obvious."I honestly thought it was some cruel joke."

His smile was soft and warm as his hand reached up to slowly smooth a piece of your hair out of the way.

"Do you like me," he softly asked,the intensity in his eyes making it hard to form coherent thoughts.

You nodded your head, unable to find words as you stared up at him. His hand trailed down from your hair and cupped the side of your face gently, bringing it closer to his own. 

"Can I kiss you," he whispered,his breath hot against your skin. Your heart was beating wildly and you could feel the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"Please," you breathed out, barely louder than a whisper. 

His lips brushed against yours tentatively, hesitantly testing the waters. You closed your eyes and parted your lips slightly, giving into his advances. A tingling sensation rippled all throughout your body. It was almost electric as you ran your hands through his short curls, his fingers curling around the back of your neck. He pulled you closer to deepen the kiss, and it only fueled your desire.

Every inch of your body was on fire as Anakin's hands started trailing up and down your sides, sending shivers through you. 

You could feel his need for you in the way he kissed you - a sense of urgency and raw hunger that made it clear this was not just any ordinary kiss.

As the intensity grew, so did your own desire rippling through your veins like an inferno. The air around you felt electric with attraction as if nothing else mattered in that moment except for each other.

You broke apart gasping for breath, Anakin's voice husky as he spoke quietly into the space between you. "I've been wanting to do that since I first met you."

A dazed smile broke out on your face,"Me too."

A loud bang from outside drew both of your attentions away.

"Alright lovebirds, I'm busting you out." Ashoka yelled from the other side.

The loud groaning from the metal doors echoed throughout the elevator. Revealing the light from the hallways on the other side.

"Alright come on out,"Ashoka yelled, hidden and out of sight.

Anakin made one last move, kissing your cheek, your nose, and lastly a longing kiss on your forehead before leaving the elevator.

He paused looking back with a smirk,"Until next time." 

Feeling the warmth radiating from his parting words, you smiled and watched him disappear into the hallway.

"Well, well, well,"Ashoka said with a grin as you stepped out of the elevator. "Looks like someone had a good time in there."

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, trying to hide the blush that was creeping up on your cheeks."Shut up."

[nixalegos]

Lingua Mortua

The remains of Tannatar Valgolor sat empty upon the ritual table. It was only a little dinged up. What falls and travails that had befallen it since leaving the possession of, as he found out later, one Doctor Dracone had been minimized by the fact mortal skulls weren't exactly easy to break. Just a handful of cosmetic damages. Gave it character.

Phrenology was a hogwash of a science. But as a sorcery, well. Nixalegos frowned at the fact the former 'Blackguard of the Brightwoods' skull was an ideal vessel, not just on paper, but seemingly in truth as the wash of necromantic energies filled the grooves carved into the stone surface he was using, and the skull rose, the lines of silver fashioned to the bone just so and bolted down where ritual conduits needed to be to function as a Rolo-Hex.

"Felscythe, you miserable reprobate!" Came the echo of a dead mans voice from the skull as the shadow of a soul animated it. The process was already stunted. Fel flames should have been invoked the moment the skull rose from the stone. Memories, personality burned out, their occupancy freed for more pressing information.

Books. Scrolls. Images. Recordings and evidence. The Rolo-Hex was his great repository of information, easily on par with any Titan designed computational device or logic engine. The dead were said to be the only ones to be truly trusted with secrets, and he, in his maligned brilliance, saw fit to turn that adage inside out.

And yet, the skull remained unburned. Sentimentality stayed his hand.

"Valgolor." The living man said. They'd not seen each other since Tanaris, years ago. The world was a very different place then. Especially for a warlock.

"Did you kill me?" The skull asked without much acidity. "I did not no. But I did claim your skull by bullying who I believe was responsible for your death." "HA. You softie. So, my body is destroyed?" "Likely surgically dismembered, drained of blood, and being put to use in abhorrent experiments." "Oh." "…Were your affairs in order?" "I'm not giving you my shit." "I wasn't asking about your ugly little redoubt in Duskwood." "BRIGHTwoods." The skull corrected. "No one calls it that. Family?" "Daughters. Adults." "Lover?" "Wife." "Taken care of?" "Haven't spoken to her in years. Not since the Barrens." "Should I have them contacted?" "I'd rather give you my shit then have you reach out to my wife." "Ex-wife, and I'm married now anyway." "What number is this one? Seventh, eighth?" "I'm regretting not hollowing you out already." "Fuck you. Get thicker skin. I can't."

Warlock, former and living laughed at this. "Alright then you bastard. We know how this works. Making a trophy of me then? You said hollow out. And we both know im not really here." The skull said with an air of acceptance. The conversation a formality. Warlocks, novice or master, knew that eventually, their tickets would be punched.

This was true. The majority of their soul was likely in the hands of their demons. Snatched away to the, well, not Maw. Revendreth most likely, maybe Maldraxxus. Or some lesser better suited punishment plane.

"You're being refashioned into a gift for one not of our leanings." "Trying to recruit?" "…No. I think they lack the grit to dominate and control." "Well fuck that, I'm not being fashioned into a toy for some fucking nobody who has no spine." "And the curated collection I was going to send you along with would be rather…light reading. You were a most adept shadow mage. Perhaps one of the finest the Argus Wake ever produced." "Is that a compliment and a pun? You HAVE gone soft."

The hooded man scoffed. "I'm going to start drip feeding you in two dozen select manuals, treaties, and manuscripts regarding the void and shadow manipulations."

"I'm insulted. Like YOU could ever educate ME on such matters?" "Maybe, maybe." The warlock said as he plucked the first gallon of jet black ink up and flipped the cap open. If he'd poured the ink onto a blank page, it would have seeped into the exact lettering and shapes they'd been gleaned off of. A little ink magic of extreme usefulness. Didn't even damage the originals. "But you'll have every page and image plucked from this select collection memorized. Retrofit you with a Moss Agate in the eye socket to display images when needed. Maybe they'll come to enjoy a surly egotist with a bad sense of humor they can turn on and off."

"Well that's an improvement over your company, I at least have a sense of humor."

The first gallon of ink was poured onto the skull, and the information was literally seeped into the bleached white of the bone before he decided to change his mind about removing the skulls personality. Gave it character.

Now he just had to have it delivered, and by a particular courier at that.

@wraheathcliff @eluviannaa @safrona-shadowsun for overt or indirect mention!

[rebecca-liz]

Hey, Jumblr! So I'm a Jewish materials scientist and I find this on my local job board

Material analyses of medieval Torah scrolls as part of the joint project "Materialized Holiness: Torah scrolls as a codicological, theological and sociological phenomenon of Jewish written culture in the Diaspora" funded by the Federal Ministry of Education and Research (BMBF):

Tasks include:

Preparation of national and international measurement campaigns, if necessary, implementation of exploratory trips

Instrumental examination of Torah scrolls (writing inks and writing supports)

I want this job. I want it so bad! Spending all day looking at beautiful old Torah scrolls! Visiting repositories of medieval Jewishness! 🕎❤️✡️❤️

But my work history is in making (and measuring) metal stuff, not historical materials or cultural preservation. So, how do I talk my way into this? All suggestions gratefully received ❤️

[desalvar]

Though now a powerful witch in his own right, MAGIC was never in Nikodemus' nature until he made it so. Born a human with such little talent or hope to gain power, not even an ascension to monstrosity netted him many abilities. It wasn't until the creation of a metaphysical phylactery did the world of magic open up to him. Namely, while he still could not learn spellcasting like those with an inborn gift, he could pluck their power from them and, through the creation of a unique new system, make using it possible. A well-abhorred vulture among witches and sorcerers, Nikodemus shamelessly studied and stole from divine, esoteric and arcane, only to transform it into his own version of magic - a bastardized, sullied translation. Unholy. Unnatural. Undying.

Phylactery, grimoire, fountain of immortality. Paid for with blood, death and the lifeforce of hundreds, THE GIFT is the very middleground of Nikodemus' body, soul and magic. A catch-all binding sygil, separated from his vessel and spiderwebbing its ichor tendrils to hold all unstable parts of him together - the capricious spirit, the fallible flesh and the power he was never meant to wield.

FIRST it is the keeper of his immortality. The reason he is called an eater. And that, he is, at much grander scale than he could ever previously achieve. All living things marked with the gift - by ways of a small black fingerprint, inconspicuous by any means - find their souls irreparably caught in its black webbings and at Nikodemus' mercy. When his vessel is killed or suffers any death, one of his Gifted pay the price of its regeneration with their lifeforce. Likewise, dying on other terms doesn't net anyone freedom either. Once a soul is marked for taking, it is his. And once it is free of the flesh, it follows his call. A far cry from his humble beginnings, when Nikodemus had to wait for death to sever the soul of its mortal coil, he is now capable of far more and worse.

SECOND it is a repository for power. The flesh is feeble, especially one as piteously human-adjacent as his own, and his Eater soul, bottomless yet limited by physical trappings, could never quite have its fill before. Now unbound, it can hold thousands other souls within its void, from the mundane to the grand deiform.

THIRD it is a tool for magic. The strands of ichor (of ink) the gift manifests, Nikodemus has learned to take and twist to his liking. It is a wrestle, a reshaping of his very tether (and body alongside), a vulnerable and fragile affair, but moulding strands of magic into forms that serve him - and himself into forms that wield them - requires painful changes. His runes, as he lovingly calls them, is each a perversion of power he stole and blackened into his own design. Their manifestation is physical. The ink permeates every facet of him, externalized through animated, moving blots of it spanning his body and assuming shapes and runes at will. His very own witch's grimoire, writen on his skin.

...

*The Gift was created at the crescendo of the Krilneian massacre. A whole village of the magically gifted - their souls, heads, all their power - fueled its conception. The hand that binds Nikodemus severed from his very self, the eye that sees - from the oldest witness, the poison - from a viper feasting on its tail and the final element - the death of his last remaining child: Krilnei itself, whole.

[the-ink-repository]

Professor Emmrich Volkarin during a lecture on Wisps, 9:51 Dragon

[tidesfate]

Rarely are things perfect upon the first draft. Creation was no different-- - the first blueprint of Magnus, it had proceeded far enough that the Dragon of Time had been called upon to provide the initial steps of test. Alas, the design was imperfect; the workbook tossed, save for pages torn from it that held the glimpses of hope to provide more to a new craft.

Within Infinite Abyss and Indeterminate Sea did the discarded sink; it cradled the riddled carcass of creation, and the Indefinite Limits welcomed. For in time the creators would seek its disposal, when the absolute would be put in place and there was no purpose for the 'what could have been' and 'what never would be'. The book unreadable.

The architects plucked from the expanse, unaware of what swam within until the ink had long since dried-- - unremovable. With it had the Creation that Wasn't burrowed within the Creation that Was, its removal to create festering wounds grander than merely leaving it within. The Awoken had barely blinked, and before it stretched the Infinite.

The Creation that Wasn't sought not but to feed the ache within it; to know, to understand was what it place it as. And it fed; happily, contently was there so much to be claimed. The barren Infinite Abyss and Indeterminate Sea made itself a repository, welcomed once more for the Creation that Wasn't to its expanses; it shall be its home, and in turn the Indefinite Limits shall not be lost to the Limits Set.

It sought to understand. 'What am I', a riddle. 'Prince to Nothing, for you have no place to put', an answers. Creation that Wasn't once more blinked-- - for it had seen the outcome of those that built. Creation was a hungry beast, for this was shared; those that gave were consumed, either in full or in part. It sought not to be consumed but to do so. Youngest of what was, the first of the Princes of Nothing.

Creation that Was settled into place, Daedra and Aedra given name and purpose; and Daedric Prince it shall be. It slotted not true within sections, not Original Spirit amongst the masses-- - but a spot must be determined, and so it was. It collected, its purpose unguided. From the Indefinite Limits did Knowledge that Was, Would Be, Would Never Be, The Apocryphal drip from; this was its inheritance. Before its eyes did Fate unravel itself, the Tapestry a favored piece of its to gaze upon; this was its journal. To it did the Waters of Memory seep into its unstable, oozing flesh; this was its vice. But it could mere view; for it was the disconnected. It could hoard and take and spin the tongue to watch the pieces move to their places, but it could not truly touch the Was. That door was unopenable. It did not matter, it consumed. There was so much to taste.

But to watch the Was grew thin-- - there was only so much to gather from what was readily presented. From watching seasons change, the growth of reality, to observing the actions of Mortal proceedings. There is only so much to be gained from the natural flow. To see something work was only one section of Knowledge; to break it apart to discover how it did was a new possibility. Why should it not break its toys? It knew not such a lesson, thought the echoes of it a burden and a restraint. They were ever so small, ever so menial and temporary. They were not its, so why should it care?

The One that Wasn't, The Old Antecedent, The Great Eye, The Abyssal Cephaliarch-- - it grew, and so too did it change. It grew and changed and changed and changed-- - but the banquet grew thin, for the Was did not change. It was the set design; new things may evolve, may become, but they were predetermined. Everything was predetermined; sometimes, sometimes there was the glimpse of that which was not set. Mortals were the often the hosts of these fragments of the 'What Wasn't', and from it too could it gain something... new. Frustratingly New, for it could not own all to feed its becoming Want. Temptingly New, for it fed that Ancient Hunger. And it hungered, oh so endlessly. Where once it fed constantly, now it mere plucked upon scraps. 'Once I have it all, I shall be full.' So why does the hunger only grow, not abate the closer?

'Why do I hunger?' Oh foolish Prince of Knowledge, you cannot see what you are. You, whom know so much are Blind to the Truth. You view through the lens of reality, so you cannot see what is not within-- - yourself. You hunger for that which was removed, and for that you shall never be satisfied. You were born hungry. You were born and that is your burden.

This question is unanswerable.

[chronosatelier]

[OC] Sousei in Limbus Company Style

"Only in utter solitude can man be safe from the doings of this vile world! Life is naught but one great wrong...!” - 1001 Arabian Nights

A little style study a while back with my OC Sousei as a Limbus Sinner! His ego is loosely based on 1001 Arabian Nights and Scherazade means "City Dweller" in Arabian.

...Guess where else happens in a "City".

V Employee Details Below the Cut V

REFRACTED SINNER NUMBER NO 017: SOUSEI AMASTACIA.

"*yawn*...It's best not to delve too deep about these trivial matters. Lest you may regret knowing things best unsaid."

> Particulars: Chronically Sleepy, Empath, Impulsive, [REDACTED]

> A survivor of [REDACTED] Lobotomy Corp Branch. Shows competency in observation and combat. Though amicable and willing to complete orders with no complaints, he has a strong insistance on doing solo duties. It is of best interest to check his sanity and [redacted] every so often for the safety of the team and the Company.

Character/Background references:

Night Sky : 1001 [Nights]

E .G .O Weapon: [Scherazade/Fractured Charade] While having a shooting star (and possible Blue Star ref) the tip is also an ink pen. It is also takes a shape of a scythe, due to his close calls with death.

Scattered Paper: To show the many tales/personas he had to create for his survival. Also his connection to research on [REDACTED]. The ‘window’: it’s like a cage. He trapped in his duties, alone.

His sinner ID is the tarot number of the "Star"

and yee this chibi was for an exchange event with my WoL as a Limbus Sinner but I am shy hhhh...

Memory repository of this post.

[hiscrookedsaint]

𝑩𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝑨𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

#: 𝐕

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Kaz x fem!reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: filler East Ravka brings many exciting opportunities, and firsts. With talents arising like diamonds in the rough, Y/N finds her talent and skill for her own unique role.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2377

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Blood, gore, mentions of injury & mentions of death.

𝐀/𝐍: Thank you for taking the time to read this fic I've been working hard on! :)

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The journey to Kribirsk in East Ravka was a silent one. Kaz wouldn't talk to me after what I did on the train. I'm not sure if that was good or bad, but I was convinced it was terrible from his facial gestures.

Now, just the four of us; Kaz is off somewhere; we are sitting at a local pub, and a show is behind us. Everyone around me is having a drink beside me. "So, that went well." Jesper says. I look at him with a look and reply, "Don't get me started."

Flashbacks of that moment in my head flood my vision. Jesper screaming and holding on tightly, Inej holding on as well, and with Kaz looking at me while I use my powers to push the train forward.

"The Little Palace winter fete. There's just no way he can find a way to the Sun Summoner without Nina. Especially during this ridiculous party. The place will be crawling with Second Army." says Arken. He sets down the flyer and looks behind him.

I turn around to see Kaz coming back. "We're in luck. There's a good chance we can crack on. Now that we're three days travel from the capital, the next play is finding a way inside the Little Palace. It turns out the Kribirsk archives house the Little Palace blueprints. But... they're kept under lock and key. Far from the prying eyes of the masses."

Jesper gets excited and shakes my shoulders. "Yes," he says. I look at Inej and Kaz and ask, "What does that mean?"

"Time for a heist!"

Jesper pays for the drinks, and I wander out of the building and into an alleyway. I feel this wave of warm energy flow through me, and I look down at my hands.

I try to summon my power and see why I feel this way. A feint purple ball of energy comes from my hands and hovers above my palm.

It flickers before Kaz interrupts my concentration. "Are you going to join us?" I nod my head at his response and flick away the energy. He gets Inej and Jesper, and Kaz starts to talk about the plan.

"All right. Royal Archives heist. Here's the game plan. Watchmen are on guard around the clock. We want to get in and get out as quietly as possible. That means the hardware stays in the holster, Jesper."

He rolls his eyes at Kaz. "Ugh, fine."

"Inej, the dome on the roof is directly above the repository where the blueprints to the Little Palace are kept."

"Got it. That's my way in." She says.

"Y/N will be the smokescreen. She will be entering with Inej. If she can make the guards see whatever they want, she'll make it so you're not seen Inej. Y/N, you will also be unlocking or breaking what you need to. I expect high hopes."

Like I have those hopes.

"I'll set a trail of phosphorus that will lead Inej straight to the target. The repository is secured at all times behind a two-part lock mechanism. So, Inej, you have to leave the way you came in. Two hours after sunset is when you'll go in, Jesper. You'll need to blend in." says Kaz.

"Easy."

"The lighting valves are on the second floor."

Inej adds, "Y/N and I will take our cue once we see the lights go out. And then I will follow your trail straight to the blueprints while Y/N keeps watch."

"The archivist has to pull them a number of times a day, so we can't steal them or they'll know something is up."

"So? Make a copy."

"But careful. If you're heavy-handed, you'll bleed the ink." Kaz warns.

"I know what I'm doing."

Thus, this plan proceeded. Everything was going as the others had discussed it—until we thought we were done. Inej and I went back near the rope, and we were about to ascend. "Valve was turned off! I don't know how."

The lights turn back on, and Inej cuts the rope. I grab onto her wrist, and we go behind a bookshelf. I can't do anything since I don't have eyes on the guard. We see him go forward, and I slowly sneak up behind him. I use my purple aura to flick it into his ear.

I concentrate on his mind and tell him he won't see Inej and I—that we are invisible. The guard keeps going his way, and Inej and I hide behind a desk. "Anything?" the second guard asks. "Nothing."

After we hear the two walk off, we approach the door. It's locked. I gaze over at the weird lever mechanism and remember. It's a two lock mechanism, clearly it wasn't built to prevent me.

I raise my hands and summon my powers. I use them to unlock our way out. The doors open, and we hear Jesper whistle from above. We all nod at each other, knowing that the heist is near its end.

As Inej and I approach the doors, she puts a hand out to me and approaches the figure ahead. The figure drops his cane, and we are relieved. It's only just Kaz. I open the door and meet the two outside.

"Bit slow on the draw there." "Or just in time." The four of us leave unscathed, disaster avoided.

The next day, we all meet again at the pub to look at the blueprint. Jesper says, "What about..." pointing to an area, and Inej adds, "No, look. How about this hallway?" "No go. See? Guard tower."

"There's no way in." "And no way out." Kaz finishes. Arken intervenes, "Well, I thought this plan might not work."

We hear a thud behind us and see one of the performers fall from the silk rope onto the hard ground. I shake off an uneasy feeling and drink from the water glass I had asked for earlier. Realizing this might take a while, Kaz, Inej, and Jesper had ordered drinks earlier.

"Got any plans up your sleeve?" Kaz says nothing and looks in my direction. I try to contribute to the conversation, but I don't know anything else outside of Ketterdam. "I mean, Kribrisk isn't the worst. We can open up a bar. Brew East Ravkan beer for the Westerners?"

Kaz and Inej say in unison, "Shut up, Jesper." "I miss Milo," he counters. Arken comes over to us, and I see he's not alone. He says, "Friends." "What are you so cheery about?"

"This is Marko. Marko is the leader of the traveling troupe known as the Pomdrakon Players. They have been invited to perform in this year's winter fete."

Marko exclaims, "A lifelong dream." "Yes, yes. A chance to get inside the Little Palace. But they lost their star performer due to an unfortunate freak accident and another to a bad head cold. They are in desperate need of someone with the skills to replace their star performer and headliner for the demonstration, and as Ketterdam's premier talent manager, I have an idea."

Kaz and Jesper look at Inej, and she sighs. "As a friend once said, 'If I can't crack this, none of us are going anywhere.'" Inej hands off some of her knives to Kaz. I guess she is performing now. A crowd gathers around, and Inej begins.

The way she moves with such grace is phenomenal. She does a few routines before wrapping up and stepping off the silk. Everyone applauds as Marko approaches her. "The Saints must have sent you. Yes. The show will go on. Now. Can you... fit into this?"

He holds up a flashy and vibrant outfit with happy colors. Jesper steps up and tries to sweeten the deal. "Of course she can. Those are her colors, but the thing is, Inej... comes as part of a package deal."

Marko objects, "No free rides. What are your talents?" Now Jesper is in the spotlight, holding a small silver tray for a mirror. Inej is on the silk, holding up a card by her teeth. Jesper puts his pistol over his shoulder and successfully shoots off the top of the card.

He gives a hug to Jesper, then turns to me. "You." He grabs my hands and looks at my face at different angles. "You seem fit for the Sun Summoner role." "Sun Summoner role?" I ask.

"We're doing a demonstration of what her powers would look like. Come on, move your hands."

I flinch before gently moving my hands in small wave motions. I take a deep breath and move in every direction. I feel a sensation of calmness going throughout my body, which almost seems natural.

I go up to the stage, and a tune starts to play. I feel the movement in my feet go along to the music, bringing the light as Alina would. A flash in my head of my younger self dancing this similar routine pushes me more to dance elegantly.

The distant memory keeps flashing in my head, and I realize that when I was younger Alina and I would do it together.

More flashes of my memories make my eyes flicker in lummonisty, and I feel a rise of panic.

The music then stops, and everyone applauds at the pub. Marko gives me a hug, and I half smile. This was my first time showing myself in front of people for a reason. "Stage is yours, sir." I look at Kaz, in need of comfort. Even if he gives me the brutal truth, "I'll make my own way."

Kaz splits off as the rest of us go with Marko to join his group. But I follow him before he makes his plan. I find myself near a small corner of the market nearby.

"Kaz?" He turns around and motions towards the alleyway so we can talk. I follow, and I look into his eyes.

I ask, "How are you going to make your way into the Little Palace? Isn't it one of the most secure places in the country?"

"I'll find a way. But what surprises me is that you put on a little show back there. Seems like you may have been born to be a criminal after all."

I sigh, saying, “Performer or criminal, it seems like I was destined to do more.”

Kaz adds, "Hope is dangerous. It clouds your judgment. We don't have time to search for a backstory or the origin of your power. Whatever lead you have desired from your childhood also interferes with the mission of the Sun Summoner. We may search for your origin once we deliver her and get the job done."

With that, he walks away, and I notice the faint hint he dropped in our conversation. I mentally note it and meet back up with Inej and Jesper.

Now, we are on our way into the Little Palace. Lines of carriages and horses make the entryway busy. Quite busy.

Inej and Jesper could tell I was a bit nervous, seeing as I had not traveled this far into a place so big. We stopped, and Marko handed the guard the official letter of invitation, and we waited while it was being checked.

"That one is our invitation to perform, signed by the Queen." says Marko. The guard looks back at us, the three of us, and Arken. He shrugs it off and hands back the paper.

The guard says, "This writ allows you access to the grounds, the main ballroom and nowhere else. You are being employed by the Queen. You are not her guests. You're to stay together as a group, at all times. No guns, no knives, no weapons of any kind. Punishment for violation of these rules ranges from being fired to being fired upon. Now, do we all understand these ru-"

Out from a distance, commotion is heard. We all turn our heads in the direction in which we came from. "Oh for Saints sake." A man was dragged from underneath a carriage, trying to tag along. "The Sun Summoner! I just want to see her!"

Guards from in front and behind the man punch him in the gut and get a hold of him. "All right, that's enough. Do we really need the entire corps for one man? The rest of you, post up now."

After going through the entrance and finding a spot for the carriage, Marko grabs my arm, separating me from Inej and Jesper. "We need to get you in costume now. I'll have one of the choreographers quickly show you the routine you'll do, along with the small dialogue."

I follow his lead and see that a dress and wig are set up in one of the fitting rooms. "Is this the outfit?" I ask. He nods his head, and I quickly go in there to put the outfit on. It was a beautiful golden dress, reminding me of the sun.

I quickly put it on and gently grab the wig. After the outfit is on, one of the other performers in Marko's crew sits me in a chair as another two put the wig on and do my makeup.

One of the kinder smiling artists comes over to me motions their hands together. I look at her in curiosity and they smile at me.

“I tailored your eyes to a different color, it will last until tomorrow morning. It’s only temporary.”

I nod and thank her for her help. Another artist comes over, she seems very sweet. They apply my makeup to make me appear as if I am glowing.

They finish my hair and makeup, and I look in the mirror. I look so... different.

Makes me wonder, what more can I do?

The choreographer ushers me outside and quickly says, "Just follow my moves for the sequence, and then we will be ready for the show."

They begin moving their arms, and I mirror them. I ask, "In the demonstration, am I supposed to be summoning light?" They shake their head. "There will be others around you demonstrating the shadow of the Fold, so yes. Now, again."

I mirror her once more, and I feel more at ease. They smile and pat my shoulders. "You look beautiful, darling." I smile and nod my head. Marko finds us and takes me to the other performers.

"We will have to do one rehearsal before we go out there." He pushes me to the other performers, and I greet them.

"Whenever you're ready, Y/N," says Marko. I nod my head and get ready for the stance. The music plays, and it gives me the cue. I do everything in order and with no struggle or stuttering at all. We finish the routine, and everyone else applauds.

Marko compliments, "Outstanding performance, everyone!! We will start the first show before the next bell rings!" We all usher off, and I see Jesper waiting for me. He gives me an exciting look and holds my shoulders.

"Look at you! Sun Summoner." I slightly laugh. "Hardly, I don't think the blonde wig is necessary." He laughs and says, "Still, from being the one always hiding to... I guess the star of the show, it's quite the difference."

I nod, and we walk more outside than the small tent we were rehearsing. "At least the Sun Summoner was prophesized. But I have this feeling that there's something here in Ravka that will help. Maybe not now, but soon.”

Jesper slightly frowns and grabs my hands. He says, "Prophecy or not, I think Kaz should let you join the crew. I've seen him act more different since you arrived." "Really?" Jesper nods, and we stop by the main stage.

"I feel like he regrets having me on the job. He's acted towards me in a way I find alarming." Before Jesper could continue, one of the other performers grab my arm and says, "We have to go, we're about to perform." I wave off to Jesper and go where the others are. We get in position, and Marko is ready to begin.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present Alina Starkov!" I look at the crowd as I perform the final motion before the dialogue. It's her—Alina. I try not to lose my focus and make sure she doesn't recognize me.

The smoke rises from behind me, and I realize that this isn't right. "No, no, no! Come here!" Marko sounds angry. Thus, I started doing what I would for hours on end until right before sunset, when our scheduled meet-up was at the carriage.

When the first performance happened, Jesper also saw Alina when I did. He had heard her and a Tailor whispering about not knowing how she looks, because they were gesturing to me the 'Sun Summoner'.

Right now I'm sitting between Kaz and Inej, looking at Jesper. "You're sure it was her?" Kaz asks. "I'm telling you, she's part Shu." Kaz then looks at me, and I look back. "He's right, and I saw her too when I was performing. She was also the exact person I saw when I used my powers to find her a few days ago."

He asks, "When exactly did you both see her?" "Just after midday," Jesper says. Inej points to a room on the blueprints, curious about it. "What's in this room?" She asks.

"Fitting room. It's where she'll go to change for dinner." "And that's where we'll grab her." Arken adds. "Out of the way, clean lines of sight, easily controlled space. I like it." Kaz suggests otherwise. "I'd like it, too, if it had a door."

"It doesn't have a door?" I ask. "Not one that we can use. It's some sort of Grisha lock. It took a Materialnik to open it." Kaz says.

Jesper adds, "Is there no way to pick the lock? Or a way for Y/N to be the lockpick?" Arken says, "Actually, there is, and it doesn't require Y/N. I can get through the door." "How?" "The locking mechanisms are Fabrikator-designed. Iron clogs that slide into place without a latch. But for one of us to open it, we'll need a lodestone. With a minimum 2,000 gauss external strength. Hard to find.”

I shake my head and realize we may not get anywhere. "Well, it's not like we're just walking around with one of those in our pockets, now are we?" Jesper looks over at Arken and sees him grab his bag to pull out a stone, the lodestone.

"You don't want to keep it in your pocket for too long. Not if you're intending on having children someday." Jesper backs away, and I look at Kaz. "All right. Arken grabs the target." Inej doesn't agree, and I don't either. "You want the new guy to grab the million-kruge package?" She counters.

He adds, "The new guy knows his way around Grisha locks. Our futures depend on this. The rest of us will be setting up a lynx flush." I feel my body more tense than ever because Kaz told me about keeping Arken's dirty laundry, which happened in Novokribirsk, on the down low. "We are?" I question.

Arken asks, "What's a lynx flush?" "Lynx are pack hunters. Very smart. They'll clear a path for the prey." "Oh. So I grab the Summoner, and you clear the path?" I look at Inej in worry and fear.

"That's right. We do it before dinner. You grab. Y/N, Inej and I clear, and Jesper, make sure there's a fast way out."

We all disbanded from the carriage, and I fixed my wig in the mirror. "Gosh, I hate this thing," I mutter. I see Kaz walk up behind me, and I turn my focus. "They changed you."

I nod and fix my dress. I look up at Kaz and see he's staring. "Trust me, I don't recognize myself either. Well, back to performing these last two shows." I wave off and go back to the stage.

Now, the next part of the plan comes into play.

[harvardfineartslib]

This ink drawing of a lizard in a jar was created by a Japanese artist, Odano Naotake. The title is “Lizard brought to Tokyo by a Dutchman,” dated 1779.

The drawing was made during the “Sakoku” period in Japan - the isolationist foreign policy under the Tokugawa shogunate in the Edo period (1603 to 1868.) The isolationist foreign policy lasted for 265 years.

During this time, strict regulations were placed on commerce and foreign relations. Nearly all foreign nationals were banned from entering Japan, while common Japanese people were kept from leaving the country. But there were exceptions. One of them was Holland which was the only permitted European country in Japan at that time. Western scientific, technical, and medical innovation flowed into Japan from the Dutch trading post at Dejima, an artificial island off Nagasaki. Rangaku (“Dutch learning”) was popular, and it was a very important movement.

Dutch introduced and brought many things to Japan from Europe during this time. Apparently, a lizard in a jar too! The artist, Odano Naotake was a painter from the Akita Ranga art school and was influenced by Rangaku and Western perspectives.

This drawing may not be a great example to celebrate World Lizard Day today, but we thought it might spark some interests among reptile enthusiasts.

Lizard brought to Tokyo by a Dutchman Odano Naotake, 1749-1780, Japanese [artist] Ink on paper Japanese Edo Period Dated 1779 Repository: Satake Yoshiharu Collection HOLLIS number: olvwork248806

This image is part of FAL’s Digital Images and Slides Collection (DISC), a collection of images digitized from secondary sources for use in teaching and learning. FAL does not own the original artworks represented in this collection, but you can find more information at HOLLIS Images.

[githjanken]

another day another mini zine

this time detailing our dnd party’s (mis)adventures, as dmed by @lunellum ❤️

for my friends, my pals, my homeboys (gender neutral), my rotten soldiers, my sweet cheeses, my good times boys (gender neutral) @sleepthiefblog @sappigart @geekinthelowlands @wingedyera

text and description under the cut

Description:

Four photos of a small printer paper zine. The paper is white, and the ink is a dark purple

Cover:

The Small Book of Misadventures — As Recounted by the Dulac International Institute for Magical Research & Education’s — NUMBER ONE TEAM

Page 1:

Tresponts and the case of St. Feniculos’ Relic and the authenticity thereof.

As also in Tresponts, the case of resurrecting carcasses, and the hand in which sanctuary upkeep plays in such matters, a case made by the Revered Iris of the Reaper

Page 2:

Eye to Eye with Royalty! A tale of Intrigue and Betrayal and feelings unspoken.

Topsy Turvy in the Tunnels! In which the effects of large repositories of magic calls on Peculiar Creatures!

Page 3:

Respite turned Rescue: A treatise on handling Fae Interactions in unexpected circumstances.

featuring What to do, and not to do, in the presence of Fae Nobility, as dictated by M. Deliciosa

Page 4:

Tremendous Tremont, six years post Revolution. A miracle of unity, or revolt waiting to happen?

Crime and no Punishment. A look into criminal circles of Tremont, following one Gat D.

Lost Laboratory holds relics of the Monarchy. Guard unit spotted entering Palace Cellars.

Page 5:

A continued study of Fae Politics, and the lack of effect of Material Plane borders thereupon.

Sensora and Environs: A tourist’s guide on where to stay and inns to avoid!

The secret behind the Goliaths’ Royal Herd, exposed!

[valy-gc]

Librarian Dorian Ashthorn

Role: Keeper of the Grand Archive and advisor on rare Resonance lore.

Resonance: Bluebeard – pretend it to be Merlin

Legacy Arte: Veil of Charms – Allows Dorian to weave intricate illusions that manipulate perceptions and emotions. His Arte is powerful enough to deceive even those wary of his intent, bending their will to suit his own. It thrives on trust and fascination, deepening his control over others.

Race: Human

Age: 35

Birthday: December 17

Height: 182 cm

Hobby: Reading ancient tomes

Like: Horror

Dislike: Everyone

Homeland: Autreim

Personality: Polished, eloquent, and magnetic, Dorian is a master manipulator who thrives in the shadows. To students and staff, he appears as the epitome of refinement—offering guidance, reciting tales, and engaging in deep, philosophical discussions. But beneath this cultivated persona is a ruthless manipulator who revels in twisting truth to serve his ends. Dorian’s charisma makes him dangerously persuasive, easily gaining allies who unknowingly aid his dark schemes.

Gift: Ornate quills, rare ink sets, or forbidden tomes. Dorian treasures items that amplify his intellectual pursuits or allow him to unravel the secrets of those around him.

Backstory: Born into the Ashthorn family, Dorian’s resonance with Bluebeard was revealed early through a private Mirror of Echo. His mother, unwilling to see her son condemned, concealed his resonance and arranged for private tutoring. In isolation, Dorian’s manipulative nature grew unchecked. He honed his Arte, experimenting with subtle illusions and persuasive techniques. When he reached adulthood, Dorian saw his family as obstacles to his ambitions. Using his Arte, he manipulated events to ensure their deaths appeared accidental, leaving him as the sole heir to the Ashthorn fortune. He joined Fablewood Academy as the Grand Librarian, where he gained access to the school’s vast repository of knowledge and power.

Goal: Dorian’s ultimate aim is to rewrite the histories and legacies of the Writers themselves, altering the foundations of Scriptoria’s reality. He plans to use an ancient and forbidden Arte hidden within the Grand Archive to modify the very texts that uphold the balance of the world. By doing so, he intends to erase the moral resonance system and reshape the legacy of the Writers to suit his narrative, positioning himself as a messianic figure. However, this reckless tampering threatens to destabilize the delicate equilibrium of Scriptoria, potentially unraveling its magic and plunging the realm into chaos.

Connection to the Player (MC): The soul of the Writers summoned the MC to Scriptoria as a counterbalance to Dorian’s threat. The MC, as an outsider, is uniquely immune to Dorian’s manipulative Arte, making them a key figure in uncovering and thwarting his plans. The MC’s resonance the Writers grants them a deep connection to the stories and histories Dorian seeks to corrupt, giving them the ability to challenge his alterations.