#ill get back to you eventually!!

[jacob-blogs]

Also, this phone call could have been an email.

[cuubism]

At first Hob isn't even sure the shop is open. The tiny door inset above a few steps, the utter lack of welcoming signage, the windows packed with unlabelled stacks of books--it doesn't exactly scream come in and buy something. As Hob steps up to the door, he really expects it to be locked, or for a sign to fall from the ceiling reading, abandon all hope here, mortal.

But the door to the bookshop--the name of which he's yet to determine, again with the utter lack of signage thing--just swings open at his touch, and he steps into a narrow hallway made entirely of--of course!--books.

Dust rises from the rug as he carefully makes his way deeper into the meandering corridors. The lightbulbs overhead are dim and in desperate need of replacement. The stacks are teetering and untouched. If he learned the place had been sitting here on this winding side street, exactly the same, for the past seven hundred years, he wouldn't be at all surprised.

And now Hob's marring its mysterious mausoleum aura by opening a jaunty modern coffee shop across the street.

Whoops.

Hence why he's bringing a peace offering before he accidentally starts a war over noise or crowds or god knows what else. Most places would probably be happy about increased foot traffic, but that's not the sense he's getting here.

This is all, of course, assuming he does find an owner, and not just a skeleton manning a till somewhere in this place long gone dark.

Hob doesn't find any customers. He does find several interesting-looking side hallways labelled things like, ~ the occult ~ , Oneiromancy, and "falconry -- advanced" and has to drag himself back into focus because the only thing worse than starting a turf war with a mysterious bookstore owner on his cafe's opening day is accidentally spilling the coffee he's brought--as a peace offering!--all over some ancient magical text.

"Hello?" he calls, finally giving up on the creeping about. "Anyone there?"

No answer. All Hob finds is a rickety set of stairs leading up the next level. So he ascends.

At the top is an even more cluttered room of books. This time in disorganized, unlabelled stacks on every surface. Waiting to be shelved, maybe? And in the center of it all, sitting cross-legged on the floor with several of these books spread out in a confusing array before him, is who Hob can only presume to be the owner.

An owner who is not dead, nor ancient and decrepit as Hob had kind of been picturing. Definitely not decrepit at all. Oohhhh dear.

The lithe, dark-haired, fey thing that is the owner tapes a note inside another book and says, in a distracted tone, "Can I help you?"

"Uh," says Hob, because he came here on a mission but he's gotten really turned around, "do you drink coffee?"

This gets him a raised eyebrow, but the shop owner does turn to look at him, staring up from his position on the floor. Christ he's pretty, spectacles and all. If there is a battle over street noise levels, Hob's going to lose by dint of caving automatically to those eyes. Pathetic.

The bookstore owner looks at the coffee in Hob's hand, then back at Hob's face. "Why?"

Hob thrusts the cup in his direction. "Here."

The owner looks alarmed now, but takes the cup, gingerly, peering at it as if he thinks Hob might have given him pureed nightshade instead. "Why?" he repeats, and then, because apparently his level of self-preservation doesn't extend to things like not drinking random shit thrust at him by strangers, takes a sip, and hums in appreciation.

"I-- fuck, sorry--" Hob sits down on the floor, which only makes him look more like a maniac to be honest-- "I just-- I just opened across the street? The cafe? So I just wanted to say hi and-- holy shit, is your name actually Dream? Were you a stripper in another life or something?"

This because he's finally spotted a tiny nametag pin on the bookstore owner's cardigan-- a cat curled around a book where the cover reads, I am Dream.

"Yes," says Dream, and Hob has no idea if that's in response to the first question, the second, or both. Both is terrifying to think about. As is the fact that Hob even asked that. "The cafe, you said?"

"Mmhmm," Hob agrees, cheeks burning. Oh, he's making a right mess of this, all right.

"Hmm," says Dream, peering at him over the coffee cup. This indicates nothing to Hob about how he feels about the cafe situation.

"I just worried that more noise and stuff might bother you," Hob rushes to explain. "You seem. To. You know. Like your quiet. Is all."

"It is my understanding that cafes and bookstores frequently have symbiotic relationships," says Dream evenly, though he's still watching Hob with unnerving intensity.

Well. That was easy. Maybe Hob was just worrying over nothing. Wanting to be liked when it wouldn't have been an issue.

"Alright," he says, letting out a breath. "Well. Good!"

"Good," echoes Dream, with a tiny, wry smile.

"What is this place anyway? I've seen no signage whatsoever."

"It's called The Library," Dream says.

Hob waits for him to explain. He doesn't. "Um, but... isn't it a shop?"

Dream raises an unimpressed eyebrow. "And?"

"So..." Hob says, "it's not a library."

"Purchasing something is but extended borrowing from the universe," says Dream, like that makes any sense at all.

But Hob decides there's other things he'd rather do with a pretty goth bookstore/library/whatever owner than argue semantics. "What do you carry, then?"

Now Dream preens like a cat. "The Library contains every book in print."

Now it's Hob's turn to raise an eyebrow. "That seems... unlikely? Impossible?"

Dream's self-satisfied little smile doesn't fade. "You are welcome to browse the stacks and let me know if there is anything you cannot find."

And, well, it's true that Hob didn't really get a sense of just how far back this place goes. It looks small from the street, but he's already wandered pretty far in just to find Dream, and has yet to reach a back wall.

"I will definitely have to come back," he agrees. And get lost. Definitely get lost. He's not even sure he can find his way out. He'll probably get swallowed up in Oneiromancy.

"In return I will be sure to visit your cafe," says Dream. He says it so strangely, like crossing into a foreign land. I will be sure to visit your court. "Are you open late?"

"On Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays, yup," says Hob.

"Excellent." Dream inclines his head imperiously to Hob. "Thank you. For the coffee."

Hob figures he should let him get back to his labeling. He has plenty of his own work, too.

"Yeah, sure, any time. Good to meet you, Dream."

And then he scurries away before he can make it any weirder, makes his meandering way out of "The Library," and doesn't get lost in Oneiromancy.

This time.

--

The following night, Hob looks up from the till to find Dream standing across the counter from him. He looks much the same as before, with the addition of a long dark coat over his clothes, and no reading glasses this time. He offers Hob a tiny smile. "Hob Gadling."

Gosh, he looks, if possible, even prettier in the warm lighting of the cafe than in the darkness of his shop. Though to be honest, Hob had half-convinced himself he'd hallucinated Dream's existence. He hasn't seen anyone go in or out of the shop since.

"Dream," he greets, with a smile. "Anything I can get for you?"

"It is I who have something for you." He hands Hob what must be a book, though it's wrapped in brown paper. "Consider it a return gift. Or perhaps. A welcome."

And before Hob can even ask if he wants coffee or something, if he wants to sit down, he slips back out through the crowd and onto the street like a vapor, and then he's gone.

Hob tears open the paper. And then stares at the book in astonishment.

It's the book. Everyone has one. The book once read but since forgotten in the shuffle of time; title, author, too vague in recollection to pin down. Unsearchable. Never found, for all that the heart of the story might have lodged its way in somewhere deep.

It's one of those books that he remembers in blistering detail now that it's in his hands, that he read in uni but couldn't have found for the life of him on his own, and Dream's just handed it to him over the counter of his cafe.

He runs his fingertip over the midnight blue cover, the embossed lettering. In Search of Nightingales. And it's only as he looks up again at the hidden shop across the street, that he realizes he never told Dream his name, either.

[treeprince]

never let it be said that shen yuan doesnt fight for his man with bloody teeth

he started off already risking being sent back to his dead body to protect baby binghe the best he could on his first meeting and then continued to do so once the ooc shackles came off, made sure he felt loved and safe and at home on cqm, gave him every advantage he could think of (and then wondered why binghe got out of the abyss 2 yrs early, honey...), but bc those scum villain blinders were on so tight, he doesnt accept that he (the man shen yuan inside the character shen qingqiu) can change his own path enough to not be killed, and plans his own death accordingly bc he wont ever fight against binghe again if he can help it, i just...

this man loves binghe so much that he couldnt even conceive of a world in which binghe loves him back - and thats not just the comphet olympics in his brain talking, sy genuinely believes he's unlovable and only maybe sort of likeable by his fellow peak lords, and part of that comes from being forced into a scum villains role and not knowing the bigger picture behind sqq's actions (not even touching on how sy barely saw the entire cast of pidw as people until binghe actually looked hurt to him), but the rest was already preprogrammed before he transmigrated, and i want to know who hurt him so bad - bc all sy could imagine is that the whole world should love binghe, bc thats howmuch sy loves him the story is supposed to go, but all he could imagine for himself was gratitude at best and his demise at worst, until the very moment that it becomes clear that lbh has done everything, fucking EVERYTHING, to get sqq to love him back and i just SCREAMS

i cant imagine that sy would just let binghe go if he should ever decide to love someone else, the possession goes both ways with these two, and sy would fight tooth and nail to keep binghe for himself

[character-obsessed-fem]

im not sure if going to the theaters to see this film is the best idea.

(i will NOT shut up)

[higgsbison]

Discworld Elysium PART 8

p1 p2 p3 p4 p5 p6 p7

MASTER POST

Check his pulse.

[randomminty]

I heard its her birthday and had a sudden urge to draw kirararararararrara

[xxri]

maría for the ad astra zine! lc u will be missed T_T

[feroluce]

So I went to the wiki page for the henghill Bullet & Brain mission of 2.2 looking for some dialogue I had missed and

a) I found something incredibly tasty that slotted into some other thoughts I'd been having, more on that on another day, and

b) I saw this super fun little trivia at the bottom, which!

I knew Penacony characters like Boothill took a lot of inspirations from old movies, but I didn't realize it was even in his and Dan Heng's relationship, that's so cool!!

It fits them very well, it's such a fun reference. "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid" was an old buddy Western film (from 1969- nice) about a pair of outlaws. Butch Cassidy was the leader of a gang, and described as clever, affable, and talkative. Meanwhile, his closest companion, the Sundance Kid, was known as a man of few words.

Cassidy's original birth name was much more plain, but similar to Boothill, he took on a new moniker when he became an outlaw. "Cassidy" had been the last name of his beloved mentor, who taught him how to shoot and ride. And Sundance Kid was known as he was because Sundance was the name of his hometown, and it was the only place that had ever managed to catch and jail him, back when he'd been younger (also similar to Dan Heng, but ouch).

These two stick together like glue throughout the length of the film- through Cassidy's leadership of the gang being challenged, through a train robbery gone wrong, through being pursued by mercenaries, and even through fleeing to Bolivia and trying to start over together.

I don't want to say too much more, since the mission title is referencing one specific movie that I've never seen. I kinda wanna watch it now, though, just to see the inspiration that went into Boothill and Dan Heng and how they get along. I just think it's really sweet that these two were literally made to be the best of bros, how lovely is that. 💕

[isthe-protag-cluelesstho]

Okay, probably not a hot take, but imma scribble about it anyway,

I honestly think Cale Hetinuse/Kim Rok Soo has chronic pain/fatigue.

Like, everybody loves the whole coughing up blood/wet meow meow thing he's always doing, but personally? People who are that nonchalant about Shit Happening To Their Body, are typically people who are waaaaay too used to Fucked Up Shit Happening To Their Body,

It's just a head canon, but as someone who is chronically in pain, I absolutely do some of the stupid shit CH/KRS does, like carrying stuff I should NOT be carrying, or continuing to Do Things even when I should be sitting and resting. I also know several people who (like me) can be experiencing level 4-5 pain and not show a hint on their face/through their actions besides maaaaybe moving a bit slower/stretching more

And we know KRS has been on his own since he was itty bitty... And then he grew up in a world hell bent on killing everyone. I can't help but think that a tiny child with no one to help him with the general cuts/bruises/little hurts of childhood would 1) have zero frame of reference for what "okay" actually looks like 2) probably has never really received medical care beyond emergency assistance (which does jack for chronic conditions) and 3) has NEVER really had someone in his life long enough for them to catch his way of coping with pain (my very close friends can hear when I'm hurting/tired, everyone else only notices if I am visibly incapacitated)

So, Kim Rok Soo ends up in a world/body that "technically" hasn't experienced his life, HOWEVER fibromyalgia and PTSD are like goddamn pb&j. It's a condition that is deeply tied to a body's stress response. And what does Cale say once he has the Heart? "I feel BETTER"

And that just speaks to me of a person who is so used to pain, that it no longer really registers... I had daily headaches for 7 years, it wasn't until I moved and got a new primary that I found out that more than 4 headaches in a month was considered a concern... I got on some migraine meds and actually stopped having that daily headache, something id just accepted as "how my body works" gone,

I personally don't consider pain at a 1-2 as particularly bothersome, it's more like a general annoyance. Onces it's up to 6-7 it's hard for me to move, and yet I often will still do so, despite the pain. It's only at 9-10 so I stop moving entirely and focus on just weathering it. Usually when that happens, I sleep so much after as my body tries to recover.

And when I read Cale, so casually continuing forward, despite the work he takes on himself, after the constant planning and prepping and ass kicking, all I see is a person who has lived so long with his body's suffering that it's just background noise. Yeah, he coughed up some blood, but the pain is back to "normal" so how can he raise a fuss? He killed 3 monsters with a dislocated shoulder that one time, this? This is easy. And despite claiming his body is weak, he refuses to truly accept the help and rest he needs because (like I used to) Cale thinks "this is just how my body works"

Sometimes, I cannot remember how I lived prior to my pain. Sometimes, I cannot imagine a world where I do not spend half the night attempting to force my muscles to relax, so I can actually sleep. I cannot imagine a world where I am able to do everything I want in a day and not collapse at the end. And I see so much of myself in how Cale continues to move despite the weight of the ancient powers, the expectations of the gods and his own personal hopes. He seems like a character doomed to continue walking, his bones broken but refusing the care because whats the point if everything still hurts the same way in the end?

Anyway, Raon should invent a cure for chronic illness and force Cale into a year long sabbatical

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

I'm surprised you haven't posted any Welcome home stuff recently! Honestly kinda makes me sad since I love your WH art and stuff

yea y'all are gonna have to be Patient w/ me bc

a) i have like. a week left to pack all of my stuff before i need to shove everything into a uhaul and leave, so its crunch time! leaving little to no energy/interest in anything else

b) to be honest my mental health is the worst its been in years - which is fine, its whatever, i can deal. it's not as bad as it could be and im handling it! like a champ, even! but also its leaving little to no energy/interest in anything else

c) had a minor crisis over my art and how i interact w/ WH, and i realized im not scribbling enough of what I want. ive mostly been trying to please people and do as asked and thats! not good! so i want to temper expectation & reassert that im Not a WH art blog - its just a hyperfixation / something i love rn. i draw what i enjoy & what i want in the moment.

[queer-ragnelle]

This cold-blooded pride in me Won't go down quietly And I'm standing right where I said I could never be —Madison Cunningham

[alazic02]

My full piece for the @onceuponzine Miraculous Ladybug fairytale zine! I did an adaptation of Sleeping Beauty using the knight and princess designs. This one was really fun to work on, and the first time I've done a two-page spread :) The zine currently has its leftover sales open, so please check them out!! There's a lot of really cool merch and beautiful pieces that you don't want to miss, including a tarot deck and tote bag.

Check out what's available!

Artwork ©: alazic02 | buy me a ko-fi

Do not repost.

[bitterseaproduction]

On one hand? Ear infection became bronchitis.

On the other hand? Spent a sleepless night + morning in urgent care distracting myself with a brainstorm of baby Phoenix Wright actually managing to get face-to-face with baby Demon Prosecutor Edgeworth and interacting long enough for a) Von Karma to vibe check those two and b) Wrightworth to have mutual angst over Miles bonding with, then pushing Phoenix away to protect the both of them.

Queue a dramatic sequence of dominoes as Phoenix rebounds hard for Dahlia, then Von Karma gets Miles purposely put on the Doug Swallow case so Miles has to prosecute and convict Phoenix for murder (and thus get him killed) while listening to Phoenix’s hurt betrayal and desperate faith in him and his cooing over Dahlia Hawthorne, all against the backdrop of Mia spitting resentment at Miles and Dahlia both, yet inspiring Phoenix to fight back, and of course Miles would pull a Turnabout Samurai and suddenly start helping the defense and protecting Phoenix and the shock from Mia and relief from Phoenix even as he’s heartbroken again by Dahlia’s coldness (poor guy kicked by BOTH his loves in the same year!) and Phoenix is found Not Guilty but OH the fallout with Von Karma for purposely losing alongside Iris getting revealed early? Oh, the joy.

Long story short, Edgeworth leaves or gets kicked out of the prosecutor’s office, all while assuming the love of his life (the one he rejected and endangered yet ultimately saved) is going to get his happily ever after with his actually sweet girlfriend after all…

…And then Mia Fey approaches him. Questions his actions. Commends him. Offers him a job.

And on Miles’ first day at Fey & Co’s office, the first person to walk in is not a client, but Phoenix Wright, his face mask gone, an art portfolio bag slung over his shoulder, and that silly pink sweater of his swapped for a blue hoodie. Miles takes one look at the man and freezes up, and can only watch as Phoenix bows to Mia, thanking her before stuttering out a request to speak to Miles privately, all while shooting the new defense lawyer a wide, hopeful smile.

And Miles Edgeworth finds himself for once truly and utterly speechless.

[stergeon]

at some point i will figure out how to write the post-canon, post-empire edelgard autonomy fic of my dreams. it just feels like a very big task and maybe like with playing the dane, i’m simply not old and traumatized enough to manage it yet.

but my vision is thus: it’s set years (realistically, decades) after the end of crimson flower, when everything has gone as right as it can possibly go. fódlan is thriving. the social reforms have taken effect. the nobility system is nearly eliminated, if not entirely so, with titles made merely symbolic. social mobility, welfare, and prosperity are high. there’s an explosion in arts and culture and technology. brigid and duscur have gained independence; relations with sreng and almyra are much improved; heck, maybe they've even figured it out with dagda. in my most idealistic version, leicester and faerghus would eventually be ceded back to become autonomous regions, essentially disbanding the adrestian empire. rule is no longer hereditary, but merit-based. there's a roadmap for the future, and everything is on track—and more than that, people at all points on the power spectrum have already seen it bear fruit. with or without edelgard, it will be pursued. there's buy-in. they believe.

of course, it's not perfect—nothing can be—but edelgard's vision has been fulfilled. the people are empowered. humanity is free. fódlan has healed.

and somehow, she's had enough time to resolve her goals outside of politics, too. those who slither in the dark have been eradicated. edelgard and lysithea's second crests have been successfully removed, allowing them to live if not full lives, then substantially longer ones than they would have with their twin crests intact. who knows—maybe she finally gets around to having that wedding.

point for point, every item listed in edelgard's manifesto has been checked off. the ghosts of her past have been laid to rest. she can finally take off her crown. she can finally pursue the quiet, humble life she's wanted for so long. she can finally breathe.

... but can she?

edelgard is nothing if not driven. her intelligence, vision, and sheer willpower allowed her to plan and execute a revolution against two countries and the most powerful institution on the continent, all while she was still a teenager. as royalty, her life was never truly hers even before she became heir to the adrestian throne, with all the additional baggage of survivor's guilt and the desire for vengeance and her need to ensure nothing that happened to her can ever happen to anyone else, ever again.

so what happens when that drive has no outlet? what happens when someone who has been constantly in motion, constantly working and planning and preparing every spare second of every day since she was fourteen years old, suddenly has to stand still? what happens when someone whose hands have been bound for so long—first literally in the dungeons of enbarr, then by the weight and responsibilities of her crown—is set free?

being edelgard, she would step away from the throne, no matter how hard it was for her to give up control. she's always been focused on the endgame, and she knows that if she doesn't let go, she'll be setting the wrong tone for fódlan's future. she's too devoted to that endgame to cling to power much longer than she needs to, though i could see her making some excuses and trying to iron out just a few more things to buy herself some more time to mentally prepare before she's done for good.

but who would she be then? who is the woman without the crown? what becomes of a machine once it is no longer needed, when it has made itself obsolete? what about when that machine is a person with legs and arms and an innate unwillingness to gather dust on a shelf?

what happens when you get everything you want? what happens when all your wanting has been for others to thrive, and now you have to want only for yourself? how do you discover who you are when you've spent decades being everything for everyone else? how do you find meaning again? how do you find purpose?

after a lifetime of devotion and passion and movement, how do you learn to sit with yourself, and be quiet, and be still?

gosh, i would love to meet her. i would love to pick her brain. but boy, i do not envy the work that girl has to do.

[amygdalae]

i tag dlc spoilers but i dont bother filtering them myself because I like seeing little morsels of what ive got ahead of me on the dash tbh ^u^

[sokkas-art-corner]

oh i super forgot to add the rizz text post to my tumblr but. yeah my brain cannot draw these days for the life of me and this ship still has me in a death grip, so take these silly post edits in the meantime

link to the post where i found all but one of the text thingies

also heres an alternate version of the 1st one because i couldnt decide which one fit most: