So I know I kept promising to post a picture for you guys. And I really did have a piece almost finished before I had to pack up and leave the states. But it turns out, my copy of photoshop cloud couldn't be carried on overseas. So it's sitting untouched in my desk drive. I'm terrible sorry for leaving you all hanging so long without apologizing too.
So I am currently living in Japan. No, not Tokyo. I'm living in a rural area of Japan about three hours west of Osaka. Speaking of Osaka, just spent some of my winter vacation there. Never thought I'd actually get to visit so that was awesome.
Anyway, I just wanted to post this up to apologize to all you guys. I am still working on my fanfics as a means of apology. But I can't promise anything. I may not be busy right now because school is on break- but breaks don't last forever. And my work does keep me pretty busy. As if my silence wasn't evidence enough.
And because I kept promising and promising, here is a clip from Blind Alley as means of apology. I know it's not a comic or artwork, but some of you guys might enjoy it:
'I don't care if I die,' he had said once. 'There are worse things.'
Ash picked up the knife with both hands. He stared at the blade hard, as if trying to comprehend what he had. He ran a thumb down the razored edge and drew blood. The sight almost made him laugh. Though it did make him grin ridiculously. They were so dumb! They had no idea the gift they had just given him!
Down, not across. Ash knew that much. When he had contemplated this in the past, the thought of blood had sickened him. He wanted it done quickly, painlessly. A bullet to the temple had seemed easier. But Ash lacked the convenience of a gun this time and blood had long since stopped bothering him. Now all Ash wanted was for it to be done.
If only that woman hadn't stopped him all those years ago. By saving his life, she had condemned so many more.
Ash sat on his feet and propped himself up by the door so he was sure that those White Ice bastards got a damn good view. Let them try and stop me.
He lined the blade up with the middle of his wrist and despite himself, closed his eyes. Do it quick, Ash. He told himself. Like ripping off a bandaid. The thought even made him smile.
Before he could apply the resolve he had been building, that voice cut through. It didn't sound in the air, but rather from somewhere inside. It came from down bone achingly deep and charged through his veins like a spark. The knife slipped from his twitching fingers and fell with a thud to the floor in front of him. Jarring as the sound was, Ash still reached for the fallen knife.
DON'T, came the voice again, the force of which literally stopped his hand in mid air. He struggled against it, but felt for all the world like he was pushing his hand against an invisible wall.
Ash drew back and gripped his throbbing head. “What... what is this?”
If you kill yourself, you'll kill me too, said the voice.
“Who are you?”
You forget me already, Ash? You put me here, after all.