I know it’s a really common headcanon that walhart is directly descended from alm and celica (given the sheer length of their dynasty, it’s possible that many valmese are) but I like to think that he’s a complete and utter rando like:
walhart: the great king alm once said that power and martial prowess is the only way to rule
alm’s ghost: i didn’t say that
walhart: as the successor to the glory of valm’s past, I will make this continent great again
alm’s ghost: who are you
whenever i see the word “nethers” in a sexual context i can’t deal with it because i just think of Mined Craft
“cumtears” is a new term i made up for when a porn artist gets so used to drawing cum that they draw every liquid like it has the physical properties of cum, including tears
its like this
“cumtears” is a new term i made up for when a porn artist gets so used to drawing cum that they draw every liquid like it has the physical properties of cum, including tears
stardew valley doesnt have any real cryptids because the farmer is the cryptid
lewis, watching as the farmer pulls a live eel out of their backpack and eats it right there before riding off on a horse wearing a cat ear headband, but not before tossing him a jar of slightly warm mayonnaise as they pass by: gosh, what a nice kid
She’s a griffon! Design-wise, she’s inspired by snowy owls, barn owls, and snow leopards; I’m still trying to work out her markings.
Actually, when I first came up with her around 5 years ago, I was unsatisfied with the way I was drawing her because it wasn’t reflecting the way I pictured her and her personality in my head. The fact that I feel like I can pretty much do that now feels like a small measure of my growth as an artist, so I’m very proud of that.
living in the south is kind of like
me: sneezes
ghost from the nearest confederate civil war monument: god bless you
the taz amnesty theme is such a work of art because it’s so simple but it captures, very perfectly, that familiar appalachian emotion of driving through the middle of a pine forest for hours on end, secure in the knowledge that you are always within a half-mile radius of at least three obscure civil war monuments and two slowly dying small towns
