Balsamic Abandoned Christian Nationalism Vinegrette

Or possibly Balsamic Autism Vinegrette.

Either way, my stage name comes with angry eyebrows.

Some day, I will instill lovecraftian fear in someone while brandishing my anatomically correct crow tongue.

Awesome! You get after it! You got this!

That's a trick question. Is it even a party WITHOUT a hot, shirtless yote? I think not.

Oh, yeah, the art of the weird western demon isn't really doing it for me tbh. But I like where the brainstorming is headed on big dudes in jocks with muscles and swords. That's definitely gotta be in an upcoming release, right?

I don't really play Warframe. *grabs popcorn respectfully*

a person is putting a red object into a square hole in a white bucket . ALT: a person is putting a red object into a square hole in a white bucket .

Exactly. Some people learn how to do this in a horribly wrong way. Instead of expanding our categories or understanding of the way things are, they just create sinkhole dismissals. And then everything they are too lazy to try to understand gets tossed in there.

OMG, it's bug music! I've been enjoying the ever-lovin', six-legged, thorax havin' heck out of those mixes!

Pictures before/after cleanup/resto?

Your anxiety lies to you. Every time your mind told you that you wouldn't make it through or aren't enough, it was lying. You're still here, and that matters to the people here with you, now. You're enough.

It came out super well! Your art style is so good.

Yesss. Wishing you many trinkets this fine day, traveler.

That just means someone needs to ride more vigorously, is all.

This whole concept in LOTR is one of my favourite parts of the whole book. “Evil fucks up because evil people fundamentally cannot imagine that others are not motivated by the same things as them” is another theme that feels relevant right now

"Boy, I really wish I had more irritation caused by the natural lice and bacteria that could be living in my clothes."

Churros are not important. Hopefully the ironic humor was not lost. 😅

I do understand your frustration. Especially when people question the vision instead of any kind of useful critique. Being in the artist's mind, someone else doesn't really get to comment on whether that vision is correct or not.

But have you fully considered, and I really think this is impactful to the consistency and quality of your art, how you feel about churros?

Consummate V's. CONSUMMATE!

Oh my goodness, this is adorable. Do a protecc. Birb appreciation abounds.

The reason they see it this way is because what they truly see when they see resistance is a threat. They've convinced themselves, and all those that follow them, that any dissent, real or perceived, is a danger, so they urge response in the only method they know—violence, cruelty, and inhumanity.

I'd like to springboard and suggest that they don't see it as violence. They would claim that any resistance will inherently require violence. Sometimes that is true, many times it is not.

They have forgotten what threats are. They are warnings of something far worse to come. When the threats stop, that's when they should REALLY worry.

Take the gift the common people are delivering to heart. They won't wait to see if you change your mind once the blade is being hoisted.

Second, that such abuses continue because those who can do something, actively choose not to each time they face it. This is, and should be, damning.

It is far easier to blame the victims than to turn our eyes inward and reflect on how we could have, or can, change the course of things.

The victim blaming in full display. Without it, two things are true. First, that anyone not currently in the same fate must accept their own role in the conditions currently seen. This means those who could, did not act and now are culpable, at least in part, for the outcomes witnessed.

Aww! They look so happy!

Never ever forget your superpowers! You are mighty! Soup is a power to be reckoned with!

What the mouse doing?

Maybe then, when he lays down to rest for the final time, they can, at last, rest together.

A day when his friend's soul is intact and his remains don't sieve through his own grasping hands like melting iron, leaving those deep scars across his palms. When his tears do more than quench the barren soil. A day when he can finally tell him what he should have so many years ago.

Returning to his post, he waits. No rescue forthcoming to banish the evil holding his love captive. No king or dignitary to protect or serve at rest here. No justification of reward to risk for a pauper's grave. He is just one man.

So, he waits. He waits for tomorrow. He waits for someday.