#eatsponse

Cheers,

At heart, “What Befell Us” is a short comic. If I told you the story it wouldn’t go on for much longer.

But in pictures...the story starts to drag its feet quite a bit. And when it comes to hunting down each comic and changing the numbering...

(╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻

So, to retain my sanity, “What Befell Us” is moving on over to @whatbefellus! Since I’m going back to school soon I’ll probably be working on more animation-related work, so this frees up my art blog to be about more general art and @whatbefellus to be exclusively the comic! (I’ll still reblog them here, though).

If you have any questions, etc., feel free to direct them to either the comic blog or this blog; I’ll do my best to get to them in either place! I hope this makes it easier for people who are just interested in the comic to find the updates.

Cheers,

This has probably been done already but I really felt this at work today and had some drawing time to kill.

Bonus Burgerpants on break after the exchange:

White. You wonder if it’s time to change it up in your mindscape, maybe add in some strategically placed succulents or a painting or two. Even as you ponder it a single cactus drops onto the floor. Sure. The white nothingness leads to a white desk and a white chair, barely discernible from their surroundings. You slide the chair back and it’s eerily silent. No squeaking along the floor, or a heavy thud if you accidentally pull it back with too much force. Everything here runs smoothly. You sit and splay your arms over the surface of the desk, flattening your face against the white material. You contemplate the fantastic notion of things “running smoothly”.

We try our best, don’t we? The words fizzle into being like sparks from a welding torch, drifting over the edges of the desk in banks of scattered light.

We work to create and improve our skills. If you pay close attention and listen carefully we can open up entire worlds for you, things you may never have imagined on your own. If you’re lucky, we share a bit of our lives as well. You might be there to see us grow and change in our abilities. You might be there to see us make mistakes.

Sentences begin knotting themselves together, thrashing against the desk before writhing onto the floor. You draw back from the pained words but you understand their struggle.

I was fortunate enough to get a glimpse of someone’s story. In a year I saw them surmount many obstacles and deal with far more pressure than any one person should bear. What inspired me was that, the more they had to deal with over time, the more positivity they pressed back into their surroundings. I think this struck a chord with many, and between their work and characters and positive vibes this creator brought something amazing into people’s lives.

You look at the words, no longer struggling against themselves but simply pooling on the floor around the desk, dark and silent. What can be said in such moments, when even the words themselves refuse to make a sound? Your chin rests on your forearms as you consider how to let your thoughts spill from your head, how to make sense of any of it.

What is perhaps the saddest part—the words are tentative, gleaming drops that splash onto the desk and dissipate in glittering puffs of memory—is that there was so much more to see of this world and its inhabitants. This creator opened the doors to not just a story, but a world of potential. The possibility for endless stories, threads twisting and twining into a beautiful whole. With their absence comes the closing of the doors, the re-shelving of the book without reading that last chapter. A feeling of loss.

The word “loss” hovers, reluctant to disappear until you reach out for it and it shimmers out of existence. The remaining words fade as well until once more everything is white and running smoothly. You push your chair out with a pain around your eyes; tears are too imperfect for this place, it seems. You rub at dull ache before heading back the way you came, through the stark white expanse.

The cactus is still there, though, next to a hat and a bow tie, a curious pair of glasses, a beret and a lab coat. Rather than giving off a sense of clutter, the odd collection of items seems warm in the bleak whiteness. You aren’t quite up to smiling but a sense of comfort settles around your shoulders, steering you towards the white door ahead. You will remember the good times, the adventures, the characters. You will remember what you can and hope for the best. The door swings open smoothly.

I hope you’re doing okay. I know it’s for the best but we’ll all still miss you.

The words get caught in the whiteness as the door slips shut. They drift over to the collection of items, some getting stuck on the cactus’ needles, others settling like dust. Everything is quiet. An onlooker might say everything is running smoothly.

So if any of you recall this post by @cyber-yeti (go check out his work, it’s phenomenal) the coloring was the same as my actual beanbag chair???

So over the summer I’ve slowly been finishing the fabric paint on this (should’ve taken a day but I kept forgetting I was working on it, pfft) and it’s finally done! It doesn’t take a good picture in the slightest but just the notion that I now own a canon EAT beanbag chair makes me smile. Can’t wait to spend long nights sitting in it, stressing over my film~