So I’ve been reading the hell out of The Voice over on Archive of our Own, you can get to it here
I love it so much, I wanted to give back even just a little. I drew Sheik as the Champion of the Sheikah. Honestly, Sheik was all that was missing from the game, he would’ve made it perfection for me :)
James has searched for a long time, coming across those who have wronged him in the past and enacting his justice upon them - no matter if they remember or not. Yet still he searches... until the one who will end it all is found. The Angel of Death- the name given to a notorious serial killer by the media. They report that his methods are as varied as his victims, and that the only thing authorities are sure of is that he is looking for something... or someone.
James has searched for a long time, coming across those who have wronged him in the past and enacting his justice upon them - no matter if they remember or not. Yet still he searches… until the one who will end it all is found. The Angel of Death- the name given to a notorious serial killer by the media. They report that his methods are as varied as his victims, and that the only thing authorities are sure of is that he is looking for something… or someone.
Reading this will make your day better. #Angelus Mortis #webcomic #LINEWEBTOON
Hello and thank you for your interest in creating a comic with me!
This contest in to celebrate having so many wonderful followers and reader that keep up with B.O.Y.S. I wanted to try something a bit different than other contests, and do a collaboration style prize for the winner! And commissions of course! Contest details below the cut!
Here’s the deal:
Participants shall write a short story featuring characters from Beyond our Yielding Secret - my web comic which can be read for free on Tapas
This is an AU set in a world where the mafia still reigns strong, and Jason is the newly minted leader of the mob in a up and coming city. His childhood friend Mateo decides to join to be able to keep tabs of him and “make sure he doesn’t do something stupid and dies”. He uses his unique skill set to often lure unsuspecting rivals in and take them out in style, serving as Jason’s right hand man. The streets are wild with violence, and the two carve out a home there while growing their family - to include the newest recruit - Finton, who is an expert in technology of the time. He brings with him advancement not only in their weaponry, but in communications as well. Now their biggest threat has arrived- The Lady Red. She’s a rival mobster with the desire to rule the city they have claimed.
What your writing must include:
One showdown with the mysterious Lady Red!
Word range must be at least 1,000 and no more than 7,000 if possible
It is not required to have them talking like the mob, but would enjoyed if they did!
Death and bloodshed are not necessary! You can take a wild and fun go at the subject material!
The outcome of the short story is up to you! Everyone can live or die or fly off into the sunset!
They do not have to stay in character for the story! Want Mateo to be coldblooded? Jason to have a heart of gold? Finton to be calculating? Go for it!
How to submit:
Please reblog this post with your entry if you would like to post here on Tumblr. If you want to post elsewhere - email your entries to me here:
n o a @ e s c l a i r s t u d i o s . c o m (without the spaces!)
Deadline: 3/23/2018
And for Prizes:
The winner will have their short story made into a comic! The comic will be featured on all my social media and I will happily link and promote any personal work they do! They will also receive one full color commission from me!
Two runner ups will receive a commission from me and I will post their entries for everyone to read!
And that’s it! If you have questions, feel free to message me here or on Tapas! Or even an email if you need too! I look forward to seeing what we can come up with together!
I wanted to give a preview for my new story that will be posting for my Patreon subscribers! If you sub at the $5 tier or higher, you will have access to every new chapter that comes out! Each chapter has illustrations that accompany it as well, I’m very excited for the project! And since this is the first chapter- I will post a portion of it on here for a preview! Please enjoy, and if you’d like to read more (as well as be ahead on my original comic series) please consider supporting me on Patreon!
One two three. One two three.
An effortless rhythm to maintain, a gloved finger drumming the mantra against the wood surface of a scratched and miserable table. Sitting in an even more miserable bar at the far edge of the city center, where even the vagabonds of the city would think twice before entering. The lone stranger in this dark place is indifferent to its lack of atmosphere that normal purveyors of the nightlife tend to flock to. He ignores the bar keep - a wretched old man who lost his sight years ago and with it any patience or kindness he once had. Yet even he knows not to bother his lone patron, and so keeps his distance as far from him as he can.
The patron is tall, ducking into most doorways and towering over any who dare approach him. His curling dark hair would be stylish if it were on anyone else but him, but it pairs well with the trendy if muted clothes the man wears. A dark green turtleneck despite the summer heat, paired with a thick wool coat that barely covered the leather gloves on his hands. On his face sat a pair of thick black glasses, reflecting the light of the dingy bar with an unsettling glare. As it has been for the last three nights the man has come to this bar, not saying a word to anyone inside. Never ordering and never speaking, he just takes a seat at the same table that offered the best view of the bar. And waits.
This night is the same, the man arrives and takes his seat and everything is as it has been the past three nights. The radio blares music that is mostly static, and the barkeep keeps to himself as he wipes uselessly at the counter top. An hour ticks by. And another. The man keeps time with his quiet tapping, never peeling his gaze away from the door. Until at last that door opens, letting in a small group of men who clearly don’t have any standards when it comes to their acquisition of alcohol. They crowd the disgruntled barkeep, barking their orders amidst laughter and jeers. One of them, clearly the leader of the little outing, demands the television to be turned on to the local game so that they could catch the end of it. When all is settled and they have their drinks in hand they claim a table in the middle of the room and continue to joke and chat with one another. For awhile all falls into another sort of calm, with the addition of the rising and falling conversation and the television now blaring a game at the room. Yet now the patron’s gaze is fixed on the group, on the leader in particular. This is the one he has been waiting for.
Waiting his whole life to run into.
One two three. One two three. One two three. One two three.
The man continued to watch the group, musing silently on how much longer this fellow thought that he could avoid him. It was ridiculous honestly, that after all he had done, all the interference he’s offered up that he would escape his judgement. Yet here he sat, ignorant to what was to come. Smiling and oblivious even now to his gaze. To the gaze of the one who would judge him and find him lacking the remorse he should have shown ages ago. It was no matter, even if he begged and pleaded for his life it would do no good. Not now that he was within the man’s sights.
An hour passed and one by one the group began to disperse, leaving the leader to settle up the tab. He half stumbles up to the counter, grinning at the barkeep and sliding his card over the surface with a quick tap.
“Hurry up old timer, I got to get back home to the missus. She ain’t going to be too happy with me staying out this late.” He scoffs, rubbing at a stain on the counter top.
The barkeep says nothing, but diligently keys in the order on the ancient register, scowling as his fingers run over the buttons and his free hand searches for his card reader that is rarely used. He curses softly when he feels that that machines isn’t quite connected, and is dismayed to find the power cord frayed. Chewed on by mice perhaps, he can’t be sure. But he knows that he is unable to take the man’s payment. He grunts as much to him, and the customer groans.
“Really man? I don’t have that much cash on me, and my buddies already bailed. I don’t - “
“I can take care of it.”
The voice is deep, stopping both barkeep and customer in their tracks. The patron has come to a stop beside the quickly sobering man, who stares up at him with wide eyes.
“Damn, you’re a big son of a bitch, ain’t ya?” He murmurs then breaks out into a grin that isn’t returned by the patron. When there is no reply but a bearing gaze trained on him the man continues. “You really don’t have to do that stranger, I can just call one of my friends to come back.”
The patron shakes his head, and pulls out enough cash to cover the bill and then some. He slides it across the counter and doesn’t break eye contact with the man. “It is no trouble. I insist.”
The man laughs nervously, but is relieved. “Well I thank you. Ain’t too often you find strangers who still have some decency in them. Tell you what, why don’t you walk with me to an A.T.M. somewhere? I’ll get the cash out to repay you.”
A slow nod is his response and the man laughs again. “Ain’t much of a talker huh? I’ll wait for you outside while you settle.” He steps out with a wave once more at the barkeep, who has his head tilted to the side to listen to the two men. Once he clears the front door, the patron turns his full attention on the barkeep. Even without his eyesight, he knows the man is looking at him and stands straighter. After a moment, the patron finally speaks. His voice is quiet but commanding.
“There is three hundred there. Keep it. We were never here.”
The patron waits until the barkeep gives him a jerking nod, and then turns to follow the customer out the front door. He breaths in the fresh air outside, at least grateful that he would not have to step foot in the bar again. The customer is there with an easy smile, and starts to lead the way down the sidewalk.
“My bank ain’t too far, just a couple of blocks down the way. Even shorter if we cut across the old mill lot. Sorry to be such a bother stranger.” He chatters on as the patron follows silently by his side. “Names Leonard, but friends call me Leo. What about you stranger?”
“James.”
“Well James, I’m grateful you were there tonight. Honestly me and the boys wouldn’t go to that kind of place, but everywhere else was packed for the game. Just wanted a quiet spot to watch some football, you understand.”
James says nothing to his statements, focused instead on simply watching the man as they turn off the street and enter the vacant lot. It was an abandoned mill lot, that hadn’t seen much human interaction in years. The cement was cracked and weeds sprouted unchecked and wild. The street lights didn’t reach the middle of the massive lot, but it wasn’t a problem to the two men. In normal circumstances it would be quite eerie, but with Leo’s banter it wasn’t quite so lonely.
It isn’t until they are halfway across the lot that James finally breaks Leo’s rambling to speak. Leo falls silent, straining to hear the man’s voice that is almost lost to the night sky.
“Leonard… do you know who I am?”
Leo peers up at the taller man, his features even harder to make out in the dark. “Afraid not bud. Did we got to university together or something?”
“You don’t remember who I am?”
Leo shakes his head with an easy laugh, slightly embarrassed. “No, sorry. It’s been a few years if it was back at school, man.”
James is silent, but his demeanor has seemed to change. He towers impossibly higher than Leo now, his expression completely hidden in shadow. Leo grows quiet, feeling a quiet fear seep into him now that he can really take in the stature of his new friend.
“W-what’s up man? I said I was sorry. I meet a lot of people, hard to keep up nowadays, you know?”
The tension is palpable. Leo takes a step back, feeling the need to raise his hands up in a calming gesture. “Said your name was James right? I’ve known a couple of James’s in my life. What’s your last name? You from around here?”
This is met with the same brooding silence as before, and just for the briefest moment, it’s like James relaxes.
Then Leo’s world turns black.
You can read the rest and more here: https://www.patreon.com/cenricaleid
So I was talkin' with one of my friends the other day about how most children have been raised straight, and how conservative parents who have children who are gay think it's something to do with how they were raised?? That's really strange to consider. I mean, you -raised- the child "straight"....so what exactly went wrong in their minds?
