#which is handy :-)

[chaoticbooklesbian]

Did I get a pair of RGB lights specifically to have the option of Bi Lighting in my videos, even if I never use it? Yes.

[stuckinapril]

friend wanted to see my tumblr, and when i told him i can’t show it to him bc it’s basically my personal diary he went “oh so I can’t see it but a bunch of strangers on tumblr can??” he literally does not get me. no one will get me like the people in my phone get me

[cowardlycowboys]

thinking about you (with my pussy)

[reapersynth]

911 + reductress headlines p1/??

[crabsnpersimmons]

Hey eclipse question so does the sun and moon who make you talk to eatch other in the mindscape? Just curious so I thought I would ask.

-Curious anon-

ooh good question!

[the-nation-of-today]

Any BVB song: [exists] Andy: But what if there was a woah oh??

[doverstar]

actually I love Tentoo and he is the Doctor and it was the only ending for Rose that worked and it is a huge gift to be able to have the man she loves grow old with her, they were always heading for that, y'all be quiet. I 100% understand the angst but it's okay, they're okay, good ending-

[antianakin]

TOTJ: The other Jedi all died because they didn't have Anakin's super special clone blocking endurance training he gave Ahsoka.

TCW: Rex is able to hesitate for about 10 seconds extra after he gets the order, which allows him to give Ahsoka a warning before anyone starts shooting that literally no other Jedi is able to have. This also has the double effect of giving Ahsoka access to information that allows her to know she can reclaim Rex as an ally if she can just remove the chip somehow, something no other Jedi is able to have.

[zarla-s]

Do/for you have to make references for any other characters in Handplates? Like the mouse or pterofractal? The same goes for the characters that have canon designs in Undertale. Did you ever need a ref for them?

Honestly I like never make reference sheets until something forces me, haha. With the mouse I just go back to the first comic he appeared in and just ref off of those. I might have mentioned this before, I forget, but originally that mouse was supposed to be the mole in the MTT comedy club but then I looked up their speech pattern and it didn't fit, so instead I made them a Rathbone cameo from The Lost Mind of Dr. Brain. :B

I had to improvise his lower body so I just gave him big wading pants lol.

As for Pterofractal, Jaz gave me this!

I do have a folder for canon refs, mostly screenshots I've taken to get colors and layouts for certain areas in the Underground, haha. And some sprite sheets if I need them.

Nothing really official or purposeful though, just screencaps and snips from other files I end up reusing.

[wesen-grimmopedia]

I don’t see enough people talking about the fact that Nick is a really good artist. He can briefly see a wesen woge and then hours later draw a highly detailed and accurate sketch of what he saw. From what I remember this is just… not really discussed in the show.

[oooocleo]

Do you use references for your art (both sfw and nsfw) or are you someone who draws from your imagination most of the time?

its pretty 50/50! i tend not to draw from refs as much for comms/commercial work, whereas w personal art i use refs to Have A Good Time and help me study/improve at the same time 🤔 theres less creative brainpower needed sometimes lol...

some examples 👇

personal work = combining elements of refs to better suit the blorbos

work work - initial pose from imagination, then figuring out the details using articulated dolls

when it comes to nsfw/erotica i absolutely use refs LOL theres a lot of anatomy involved.. and tbh its a great way to study the body! when im able to draw smut w.o ref thats when ill know ive made it as an artist 🫡

[hellenhighwater]

Is your face ok? Flying cats and phones hurt

yeah I'm fine, the noise was mostly because she managed to get me in the mouth and also I was wearing a tank top, so lots of claw-to-skin contact.

No bloodshed. This time.

Also, you know how when you meet a person who has the same name as you and you immediately have to mentally determine which of you would win in a fight to the death, either physically or psychologically? For the first time in my life I met a potentially Superior Hell. This was a couple weeks ago now, and Potentially Superior Hell has sent tribute in the form of several entire cowhides, which I assume is so that we can be friends forever instead of eternal nemeses. Either would be lovely, honestly.

I think I'm gonna need to take some of that leather and work on making some kind of shoulder armor so Malice doesn't maul my left arm entirely off. Her balance is not always to be trusted.

[ryssbelle]

My mom and her dad are the same person

[randomthunk]

Valentine's Day kind of snuck up on me this year for a variety of reasons, but inspiration came when I saw a drawing of the finger-thumb heart gesture and was like "there, that's it, Oxventurers doing those K-pop things" or whatever.

[thelemonsnek]

visuals i made for a real actual paper i wrote for my sociology class that my professor will be reading

[image ids: the first image is a black and white drawing of Ingo and Emmet, from some time after Ingo disappeared. They both look neutrally forwards. Ingo is bedraggled per usual in Hisui, and Emmet looks tired. To either side of them are triangles emphasizing what shape their goatee is.

The second image is a photo of a salt and pepper shaker. The Submas Sideburns are drawn on top of them.

The third image is an edit of Shrek. He gestures at Donkey, saying, "submas fandom is like onions. submas fandom has layers, onions have layers... you get it? we both have layers."

The final image is an edit of the Marge potato meme. She holds Ingo and Emmet up, saying "I just think they're neat!" End id]

[dvchvnde]

You let the thoughts pass by as you reach for his old bible amongst the stack of books he left for you. You pick it up gingerly, the cover tattered and worn. The spine is broken, snapped beyond repair. You're not much of a believer in pristine book collecting, but the state of it leaves you feeling an odd assortment of pity and intrigue. 

The scent of him is thicker on the cover. Robust. You hold it to your nose and inhale. It smells ashy, of old cigarettes and charcoal. Pine. It makes you feel a little dizzy. The potency of it is strong, gluing to the fibrils of your lungs where it soaks, stains them with the sticky tar of his masculine smell. 

The cover is made of old leather. You peel it back, and run your fingers along the inscription inside. To our boy, it reads, the scratch of ink pressing hard into the soft give of the hide. May he always find the answers he seeks. 

This seems to be a hope he'd taken to heart. Blue lines bleed through the thin pages. Underlines, highlights. Sections smeared with oil and ink, blurring the words together as he thumbed across them over and over again. The margins are filled with his own notes. Doodles. Insights. He fills space with ink. Musing over his own questions, and underlining the answer he finds.  

It almost feels intrusive. Voyeuristic. Had he not left it amongst the pile, you might have closed the book and put it away for the sake of his own privacy. But it draws you in. Ensnares you. His questions grow broader, the subject evolving. The answers he finds in the pages become less and less frequent. 

It feels—

Lonely. 

His despondency shows vividly when he covers the words in art. An entire page bears the face of a woman. The likeness is shaded around the eyes, in the arch of their nose. It must be his mother, perhaps. Maybe a sister. You turn the page, marveling at the artistry line in dark charcoal. A rifle. A bird. A skull. Cigars, scotch. Dog tags. A cross. Bible passages with toiling lines circled around them. Notes. Little insights stenciled into the margins. 

Another page speaks about head trauma. Brain injury. Bullet fragments. Low caliber. tbi is circled in blue with lines branching out from the side of the curve. impaired thinking. memory issues. personality changes, depression. 

remarkable the cognitive recovery is stenciled in between the passages over and over again, as if he was reinforcing this notion to himself. 

It's jarring. Uncomfortable. 

The next several pages are even moreso. It screams its loneliness into the thin paper and you read each divot until you can't anymore. Until the words run together, and stop making sense. It's all nonsensical. Scribbles, doodles, and numbers that mean nothing to you at all. Unnerved, you go to put it away—

Something catches your eye. 

It's a photograph. 

A younger version of Johnny, maybe. Shaded in black and white. He's barefaced, too. Beard shaved down to a thin dusting of stubble, an odd sight compared to the thick tangle of hair you're so used to seeing on him. His hair, too.

A mohawk. The shorn sides cropped as close to the skin as he could get. The top coiffed and styled for the photo. His asymmetrical hairstyle makes sense now. You trail your finger down the slope of his jaw.

You deep an indent underneath. Ink pressed tight to the thin page, bubbling up from below. You tuck the photo of him, all cocksure and rough around the edges, back into the seam before turning the page.

And it doesn't make sense. Not at first. A series of small sketches cover the page, littered across it like small pondstones leading to the bottom. Nahanni, you know. Recognise the magesty of this gorgeous park. You follow the trail, thinking distantly of your old art teacher in school and the magnetism of the gaze, and—

The bottom is a black circle. Needlepoints cutting through the curves. Sitting in the centre is woman. She sits in the valley watching a moose graze at the bottom of knoll, and in her hand sits an apple—

"What'd ye got there?"