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To those who have joined, we are lifting the hiatus.
Contact me or contact each other.
We'll talk about reference sheet specifications and the final deadline.
Those who want out, please inform me.
(sorry for the spam)
Contact me or contact each other.
We'll talk about reference sheet specifications and the final deadline.
Those who want out, please inform me.
(sorry for the spam)
COMMISSIONS OPEN
100 memories of my grandmother Yit.
100 Memories of Lola Yit 1. The first time I started living at your house, you said “Eat something or do whatever. You’re not a visitor anymore. This is your house now.” 2. Back in the Malibay house, you’d sometimes hang around near the telephone while reading a paper. 3. You would walk around the halls of the Malibay house. One time you punched me along the way just for fun. You had a strong arm. 4. That one time Wilbert was late for my first day in college. You fired him immediately. 5. You’d be playing solitaire on your old PC back in Malibay. It was a white desktop. Back then, all we had was dial-up. 6. At Malibay, you’d look out the window from mom and dad’s room to look at your plants. 7. Your email address was yitrn@yahoo.com.ph. Your old password was avnckr. 8. One time, you made pasta using all the leftovers at home. It was delicious. You took pride in that. 9. You taught me how to make tuna casserole. Whenever I made them, you commented on how I
Rest in Peace Monty Oum
On February 1, 2013, one who I have considered a great inspiration to me (and to many) has passed away.
He will live on in his every idea
He will live on in his every creation
He will live on in our memory of him
Monty Oum lived doing what he loves and continues to involve us with his art even after death every time we appreciate all that he has made.
Thank you for inspiring us Monty. Most of us are lost.
You've made this dark world a bit brighter as Dust have done to the world of Remnant.
You will not be forgotten.
...
"Who has never killed an hour? Not casually or without thought, but carefully: a premeditated murder of minutes. The violence comes from a combination of giving up, not caring, and a resignation that getting past it is all you can hope to accomplish. So you kill the hour. You do not work, you do not read, you do not daydream. If you sleep it is not because you need to sleep. And when at last it is over, there is no evidence: no weapon, no blood, and no body. The only clue might be the shadows beneath your eyes or a terribly thin line near the corner of your mouth indicating something has been suffered, that in the privacy of your life you hav
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