#GOOD NEWS EVERYONE

[dekariosclan]

A Tav who, from the first moment they meet Gale, knows they could never be his equal. A Tav who is painfully aware that they are lacking in intelligence, but not wise enough to know how to improve it. A Tav who isn’t handsome, beautiful, or attractive. A Tav who doesn’t love their own body, the sound of their own voice, or the face that looks back at them from the mirror. A Tav who is kind and gentle with others, but not with themselves.

A Tav who cannot understand why Gale fell in love with them, much less why he was so eager to wed them. A Tav who now constantly asks themselves: How did they get so lucky as to be loved by this man?

They watch Gale with affection as he pours over tomes in their home in Waterdeep, night after night, breezing through ancient writings that they themselves know they would never be able to comprehend or follow. They love to listen to him talk, and nod with genuine interest as he tells them everything he’s discovered; not completely understanding, but only asking questions on the rare occasions when they truly cannot grasp what he’s trying to convey. They wonder if their stretches of silence secretly annoy Gale, or if their occasional questions do, but he never seems to be anything other than elated as they listen to him. How did they get so lucky as to be loved by this man?

At his request, they often join him at Blackstaff Academy for lunch. They watch as his colleagues engage him in scholarly discussions that they cannot participate in. They see the glances he gets from his more attractive colleagues, interest that goes beyond professional courtesy; yet he still breaks away as quickly as he can to whisk Tav off to the solitude of his office, sit down next to them, kiss them, ask them about their day. How did they get so lucky as to be loved by this man?

They greet him warmly when he arrives back home every evening. On the nights that Gale cooks, they love to watch him prepare meals, his hands as graceful and deft as when he’s casting spells. On the nights that they cook, they always feel a slight pang of anxiety, wondering if the simple meal they’ve prepared is good enough, but Gale showers them with compliments and cleans his plate every time. The stories Gale shares from the Academy over dinner are as interesting as they are amusing, making Tav laugh almost as much as the bad puns he sprinkles into the conversation like seasoning. They try their best to match his wit when they tell him about the events from their day, but they always feel that the stories they share are much less amusing or interesting than his, even though Gale listens with rapt attention to every word. How did they get so lucky as to be loved by this man?

One evening, as the sun dips slowly into the sea from their view on the balcony, Gale suddenly stops speaking. Tav looks up in surprise, as he’d been regaling them with discoveries from an ancient text he’d finished reading.

“Is everything alright, love?” They ask, their heart suddenly pounding as they see Gale staring at them intensely. He responds with a soft apology, and says that it just occurred to him that he has a question he needs to ask them. Most urgently.

The pounding of their heart now fades to a hollow echo, as they’re sure they know what he will ask: Why would a man of his talent and understanding continue to stay with someone as mediocre, unimpressive, and plain as they are?

…but instead, he takes both their hands in his, holding them gently but firmly, and gazes lovingly into their eyes. “I spend my days caught up in academic discussions, decisions and debates. I do enjoy it of course, for the most part, but…to come home to you, to be able to talk without being judged or spoken over, to have your calm attention, the balm of your quiet intellect and understanding…you are an oasis for my soul.” He smiles and lifts their hands to his lips, kissing them reverently. “I’ve read so many books, learned from the brightest scholars, and yet, I still cannot understand…how did I get so lucky as to be loved by you?”

[pegsmothman]

[hawkzeyes]

Oliver Queen, AKA Green Arrow. 🏹 June 2024. With script by @Williamson_Josh and colors by Romulo Fajardo.

[pinazee]

Paul:

[whydidisavethistomyphone]

[rhyliethecaterfly]

I totally reached 4000 posts!

@lizzietherwbychibifan

@itsmetord

@sweetnekoheart

@sakiohappynoi

@tatiananothere

@megamanzero5098

@softpawsxd

@clarkpercy

@leftunknown

[crystalsandbubbletea]

FELLAS!

TRUMP WAS FOUND GUILTY ON ALL ACCOUNTS IN THE HUSH MONEY TRIAL!

CRAB RAVE TIME!

[sibyl-of-space]

the game development process for me has been something along the lines of

"im such a fucking genius im literally making umineko 2" -> "this game is never going to be finished" -> "ugh why did i get so excited it's going to be mid at best" -> "IM SUCH A GENIUS IM LITERALLY MAKING UMINEKO 2"

[nikathesiren]

I got the job!!

A few weeks ago, I said I had job interviews for two different job offers. Well, I just got a call from one of those companies telling me that I am the one chosen for the position. Yaaaaay!

I have to look for a new apartment and move and a lot of other stuff, so I'll take a hiatus from drawing new stuff and answering messages from my inbox (I have already six new messages... omg...). The only thing that it's going to be published without fail, it's the Jojo Redraw of this month, it'll be published next week Friday.

I hope to be able to make time to draw once I settle into my new home and at work ✨ See ya soon!

[acknowledgetheabsurd]

Letters between Albert Camus and Maria Casarès will be released in 2025!

[m-u-n-c-h-y]

What a handsome devil~

[arcielee]

Source.

It is so close and, at the same time, so far away. 💜

[alanshemper]

[widebruh]

[czech-hunter-reject]

THE LIVE VERSION OF HEARTBEATS BY THE KNIFE CAN FINALLY BE STREAMED AGAIN LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOO

Literally quite possibly my favourite song ever, and I haven't been able to listen to it outside YouTube for so many years, but that's all good CAUSE IT'S BAAAAAACK

[asheanon]

@venomousovereignty Art museum meme-inspired starter be upon ye! 🖼️

So... this was Esto Gaza. Having been told this settlement was considered holy ground, a place in which many a divine spectacle (in theory) of the “Shimmering Island” could be witnessed via terrace-view, the seeds of inquisition quickly took root. It was a lovely, albeit cold place…

Though the main attraction bore its own sort of pious beauty, there was much to be admired about other venues and loci as well. Among them, more notably, was an art museum. As the trio presumably kept to musing about the wiles and wares of a neighboring shop, classically, Sal would once again fall victim to her curiosity, going solo for a spell. It would lead her to this discernibly decorative depository, where wayfaring-sorts such as she could both wander and wonder. At least, until the others found her. Had she even told them where she was going? Did she ever tell them where she was going?

Treading the gallery with mindful steps, the starry-eyed stray perused its collection...

Soon, before her stood a grand, poetic display of artistry - like any other present here, and yet, so many of its tales and interpretations were entirely its own. This one in particular brought her to a stop, however. One that lasted longer than a minute or two.

Upon a placard below rested a title: “Unrealized.”

Glimpsing its name, it received careful consideration as she studied the concept portrayed - its shapes, colors and even the perceivable strokes - its creative DNA.

Within the gold-imbued frame was a traditional painting of a figure - or at least a part of one - cast against an abstract backdrop of various hues. It was not obscured by a scenic element within the paint, but rather, a lack thereof. In fact, the whole piece was. It looked to be unfinished. It was presumably by design.

To her, it was not the first of its kind. These works of art always managed to draw her in all the same, however. To some, surely, it elicited a feeling of subjective loss. And she was no exception to this.

It had been a while…

For a moment in time, she was pulled under. Again. Into a very particular pool of memories, often buried deep within what felt to be a dark, forsaken corner of her psyche…

Perhaps it was fitting to find herself somewhere like this with such thoughts. This was a sanctified space... she could attempt to pray to a higher power of unknown existence for a means of "real" closure. A reprieve that she was, on occasion, foolish enough to ask for.

“A fellow appreciator of the arts, I see.” There was then a welcome distraction.

Well, well… if it wasn’t this one in yet another time and place. Ever since this peculiar giant of a man had discovered that she more or less moonlighted as a natural radiator, it seemed he would put this “profession” to good use. She did not directly pay him mind, however, whatever she could catch within her peripherals begged her to question…

Was he… actually holding his hands up to her, today? As if she was an open flame to warm one’s hands over?