I'm not sure how this has turned out. Maybe tomorrow I'll be more sober. >__>

For once, Fabio is excited and Andy is would really just rather be at home, instead of the usual, which is the opposite.
And HEY! The Ducks just won the Stanley Cup.

I love to use blending and smoothing in combination.

I've been staring at this picture for so long I can't find my mistakes as well anymore. I suspect the eyes are... mismatched though.

"I'm pleased with the painting process, as I have learnt a little from it. (Not enough though.) I'm not that pleased with the anatomy, which reminds me that I ought to sketch out my proportions first. >__> I took 3 hours on this... which isn't all that long compared to my previous works, but it's only a headshot. T__T reference that was not very used: I don't wanna cry

Coincidentally, that was an ironic choice of picture... as I was searching for a picture titled "I wanna cry". >__>" (copied and pasted from my Gaia art dump)

I'll label this as finished, since I used up all the space.

raptor, i guess i cant go any further with it because the board cant support it ?

I ran out of time and will finish it tonight. there shouldn't be any major changes, I just need to do shading and background. her right hand just wouldn't look good, so imagine it is there, just hidden by the body.

Originally a quick 20 minutes doodle, now a full-fledged crap of a work. >__> And two hours' an exaggeration. I spent much of the time not doing anything. Please comment! It only waste a fair bit of your life. :3

Done with a mouse.




There was a time when someone once cared about the little girl down the alley. That was a long time ago… Somehow, the draft of ghastly macabre had twirled its fingers around that certain someone, and the little girl was left with her shadow again. The person who once cared remained but a memory, and then slowly faded into nothing. The girl remained within her protective shell of isolation, always playing the game of pretension, always pushing out the intruders. There was no friend, only wolves in sheep’s skin.

“She doesn’t speak much. The grief’s gotten too deep in her.” Somebody said, and the others all agreed to his view.

After much neglect, the girl was forgotten once again. Nobody gave any thought to the body left at the corner of the walls. And the girl wasted away. The heart stopped its rhythmic beating. But nobody knew about the passing of the little girl down the alley. Nobody cared.

Only the chronic sorrow remained, and the shell of her body. She became a mere vessel, a Heartless. Perhaps that was the most that she could ever be.

Because nobody cared.

He walked, one hand holding on to the brightly burning light, the other clenching a clumsily made wooden cross. With forced courage he continued on his path, the moon lighting up his steps while the shadows swallowed the light imprints behind him. Tonight, the crescent was a stark yellow smudge on the deep colors of the night sky; everything else was stained a sickly red.

He was here for all the wrong reasons. Nothing had gone according to the fool-proofed plan, and the worrying possibility of death nagged at him. He drew his eyebrows together – his all too familiar action when he was nervous – and looked straight ahead of him. The rickety road went beyond the horizon, and disappeared into the murky depths of the atmospheric haze.

“Oh, this is just perfect,” He mumbled sarcastically, “another hundred miles or so and I will reach my unknown destination!”

The sudden caw of a crow replied him, and he started in mild surprise. A darkened shape of a bird flitted past his head, and was gone in the next second. He calmed his hastened breaths and relaxed his stance once again, when he realized there was no danger.

He asked himself, for the second time that day, why he had gotten into this particular line of profession. Being a vampire hunter was probably equivalent to suicide.

ah, it works like it used to. :) Submitted on the first try even!

yeah.