[previous]
[next]
In playing a game, we bring its artificial borders weight. In creating something, we inhabit that world to bring it life.
I started Handplates during a really difficult time in my life... no matter what happened, no matter how much things felt like they were falling apart around me or I was going to lose my mind or it all was just too much to bear, there’d always be another Handplates comic to do. Like clockwork that alarm in my head would go off and I’d get to work on the next one, no matter what was happening. It was always, always there. It’s hard to believe it’s been over seven years... a few more months to eight.
By my estimates, the next comic will be the last one. It doesn’t seem real, and when it does, it just makes me sad to think about... but I guess Undertale itself was about that too. How hard it is to let go, and when it’s time to say goodbye...
(I made some long long phone calls to my friends at home
And I told them where I’ve been and the places I’m going
And they said, “Wow, that’s incredible, but we already know,
Because of that long long song you wrote.” - [x] )
[index] [patreon] [comicfury]
3K notes
·
View notes
priest guy sending mixed signals, what is he up to?🤨🕶🤏
~~~
[Image Description: A warm-toned comic featuring Trigun98 characters. It opens with Vash shouting "YOWCH!!" as a half-eaten donut flies through the air, a bruise on Vash's tongue. Meryl, editing papers, is annoyed as he complains: "Ow! Ow! I bi'e my 'ongue..." "What's the rush?" Meryl asks, "They're all yours." Vash, still hurt, tries to explain: "They're jus' sooo good!" Meryl argues back, "Well, savour it then!" Wolfwood has been watching the scene unfold as Meryl continues, "Satisfying your sweet tooth doesn't come cheap, unfortunately." Wolfwood clicks his lighter open and closed, again and again. Without a word, he leans closer, his thumb on Vash's lips. "Wolfwood...?" Vash trails off. Then, Wolfwood opens Vash's mouth and knicks his thumb on one of Vash's canines in one fell swoop. "Wah? Huh??" Vash says as Wolfwood pulls his bleeding thumb away. He licks the blood off the wound then snickers at Vash. Meryl looks disgusted, Vash has lit up in an embarrassed explosion, and Milly remarks, curious: "Those are surprisingly sharp, Mr. Vash!" Question marks float around Vash, and his donuts lay discarded on the table. Each panel is signed by raepliica. End ID]
1K notes
·
View notes
Do u still have that height chart u made of all the characters? Im trying to find references, no prblem if u dont!!!
You might be referring to my old one, but this is my updated one! Forgive the hastily doodled on clothes - this is also my body type/scar/tattoo/etc/general ref sheet, and while I've posted it without the colors before, it feels weird posting it with colors cause for some reason then it looks like theyre all naked, lol. Ref sheets are funny that way. So doodled on clothes it is.
515 notes
·
View notes
Heyy
Kinda gave up with finishing the rendering and such,, forgive me Degroot nation but I’ve been feeling like SHIT lately,,,,,,, boo hoo
431 notes
·
View notes
Im goijg to eat your art oh my goodness
honestly you are probably the sole reason i began shipping noirpunk THEYRE SO FUCKING ADORABLE
glad to be recruiting for the cause! this one tastes like sugar cookies. perhaps also arsenic but who’s to say
266 notes
·
View notes
[previous]
[next]
So much stuff to work through! It’s a long process, but at least they have each other for support. Been a while since dream sharing has come up!
I figure they brought the bed up from their old house but haven’t gotten around to putting in the carpet, haha.
[index] [patreon] [comicfury]
2K notes
·
View notes
One day, he didn't show up at the table by the photocopier. After she finally sold out, she picked up her empty crate and walked the few steps down the grey office aisle to the little cubicle she knew belonged to him. She left his bagel in front of his keyboard, just by the bobbing plastic bird, and took a curious glance around the very small, cluttered space he worked in. Nothing unusual- a calendar, a few photographs pinned beneath it, a disorganised landslide of paper and Post-its and technical manuals.
"Don't bother," said someone, just as she turned to leave. She looked across the aisle, into the cubicle across the way. The occupant was sitting in his chair, his back to her, staring at his monitor. He didn't turn round.
"Redacted," he said. "There'll be someone else in there next week. Or not. Up to them."
- Blue Sky, Chapter 8: The Cold Hard Truth
Written by Wafflestories
183 notes
·
View notes