Rough Draft - Blog Posts

Dragon Ball & Sailor Moon Crossover Idea:

*Note that I do not plan on writing this soon, this is a rough draft idea and a bit of a rant.*

Okay so instead of it being were the Sailor Senshi just meet up with Goku & the Z-fighters, what if the story started at the beginning of the Buu Saga where Gohan is in high school? Usagi, Ami, and Makoto would be students at Orange Star High school (Ami and Makoto would be in different classes while Usagi is in the same class as Gohan. Rei would still attend her all-girl school and Minako is an idol). I think for this crossover to work it would need to be a new take on the Sailor Moon property with a few sprinkles of PGSM to better fit the established world of Dragon Ball. Plus it would be cool and a little funny for the Great Saiyaman to team up with Sailor Moon or Sailor V (I think I might intertwine the story of Codename Sailor V with the Great Saiyaman Saga). And to balance the screentime between villains (that’ll happen later down the line) Babidi can try to control some of the Dark Kingdom to revive Buu. But that's just my idea what do you'll think? Feel free to leave comments!

i am hungryyyyyyy. i drank protein but i still feel dizzy but i dont want to be fat either, anyway I want to finish drawing this but its my first time actually not being lazy.

(After trying 3 times I finally got this to work ^0^) I’m working on an animation rn! Here’s the rough draft for part of it :)

(Btw the guy’s supposed to be Levi but like I can’t draw so it looks nothing like him :0)

There are no hearts for anyone outside this home.

Chapter 1 -- And the world didn't weep for joy (but it gave a great, relieved sigh)

A red sun rises in the great beyond. The sky swims with dark oranges, reds, and purples– a bruised, bleeding sky. The world awakens with one notion carried within the fleshy, pink muscle of their ever-working brains: Jackson Mayfield has come home.

–

“–we are all so relieved to see the young Mayfield son returned to his family’s arms safe and sound after three years of total mystery–”

“–Where has he been? What has he–”

“–possible kidnapping? Or, perhaps magic–”

Violet turned off the radio. A long hour had been spent attempting to found one channel not speaking of young ‘Jackson Mayfield’s’ return home to no fruition. 

Jackson Mayfield wasn’t cared about. At least, not before all of this. He was whispered about on those rare nights people dared to question just where he might be, what he might be doing, or if he was alive at all. His family never addressed any rumors that surrounded him, avoided any mention of him like the plague; it was as though his name had some sort of taboo attached to it, like if spoken, a dark fate would befall those who dared to raise their voices. He had ‘gone missing’ three years prior, leaving behind only a mockery of a bouquet and ashes and an empty seat at every gala that no one dared to touch. 

Her brother had gone the same way. And if people had cared so little for the disappearance of a young man of the House of Mayfield, son of Duke Burton himself, then they cared for the disappearance of her little brother even less. 

(Peasant, they called him when she went to the authorities. Called them. Commoners. And no one cared for the lives of the common. 

Unless, of course, that life inconvenienced them.) 

A hand slammed down on the desk in front of her, setting the contents haphazardly thrown onto it rattling and knocking her out of her thoughts. Her hands relaxed from their curled position reflexively. 

Oscar ‘Oz’ Hall. The journalist she worked under, or rather, apprenticed under. (Really, she just shadowed him, but sometimes she felt more like his handler than anything else.) 

He was a tall man of unimposing figure and a sharp, mischievous face that often had possible interviewees scampering off or avoiding him entirely. A large grin split his face in half– victorious– his wild red hair falling in front of his face and only serving to make him look all the more fox-like and less and less man. 

Violet shifted in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs in what she hoped would come across as in a casual manner. He had given her that same smile two months ago, just before he threw himself over a chocolate fountain and totally ruined the dress of a young noble lady who they were lucky enough to find out that she found it spectacularly funny. 

“Yes?” she said, holding back a sigh. 

His grin became a tad strained. “Yes, what?”

Violet did sigh this time. “You want to say something; say it.”

Despite her bluntness, a trait many of the previous journalists that she had shadowed before had not appreciated as much as Oscar did, ‘insubordination’ they called it, Oscar’s grin came back full-force then some. “There’s a story in this.”

Understatement of the century but before Violet could tell him as such, he continued on. “A story that we can unearth. Jackson Mayfield–” he spread his arms, hands moving wildly with a flair. “–second born son, back after all these years, yet his family doesn’t say a word other than ‘Oh, we are so happy he’s home’!” He guffawed. 

Violet nodded along like she always did when he got into these jittery, excitable moods, hands tapping on the arm of her chair in a continuous pattern– pinkie, ring finger, middle, pointer, thumb and back again– and leaning forward with feigned interest. (It really wasn’t all that hard to fake it, she was interested, just not for the reasons the journalist was.) 

“Yes, that is suspicious; you’d think they would give more of a statement when the boy has been missing for so long,” she acknowledged. 

Oscar’s face brightened further, if possible. “Exactly! There’s obviously something they’re trying to hide and I’m going to find it.” His grin was full of teeth now, his eyes set into a determined stare as his eyes raised and lingered on some great beyond likely full of glory and girls and lots and lots of birds full of feathers he was terribly allergic to. 

Violet cocked a brow. “You are not going to be uncovering this.”

His expression crumbled entirely, face going stormy. “Violet, do you not–”

She cut him off. “I will be handling this story.”

For a long moment, his features fell into blankness, as though he had just short-circuited. Then, the grin was back, only all affectionate and happy and proud and all that icky stuff that had her face flushing as he threw himself unceremoniously over his desk to clasp his hands over her cheeks, causing a mug filled to the brim with pens to tip over and roll to the ground, shattering upon impact. But he ignored it in favor of cooing in her face and embarrassing her entirely. 

“Oh, Vi,” he gasped, actual tears glistening in his eyes. (She’s seen him watch and document the death of a puppy with the most unaffected expression before; what the hell–) “Darling, you’ve finally come out of that horrible shell of yours and come to the limelight; I am so proud–”

Violet did not flush because she was flustered. She did not. She was… fuming with rage. Yeah. Totally. “You ridiculous, ridiculous man– get your hands off of me you oversized lunatic–”

Oscar treated her like an overly eager toddler would treat a disgruntled cat— roughly bit affectionately. “Glory is an avoidant muse, dear, but I believe with enough effort–”

“You absolute idiot, I will–”

It took several minutes, a couple swats, and a few more broken mugs for him to lay off of her and sit. (Albeit on his desk but still, the small victories.) 

She could not get rid of that stupid look on his face, but she could be mad about it, so she glared at him fiercely. His grin grew impossibly wider. 

“Now, my dear flower–”

“It is Violet-”

“My dear flower, to secure an interview with the Mayfield family, you will have–”

Violet’s eyebrows drew together tightly. An interview? What is he on about? “I’m not going to be attempting to get an interview with them,” the apprentice said slowly, as though explaining something rather obvious. And it was. To her, at least. 

Oscar went deathly still, slowly cocking his head in a way that reminded her of a prowling feline. “You are… not?”

Violet snorted in that unladylike manner her mother hadn’t managed to beat out of her. “Of course not, they’ll answer none of my questions and leave me with more than I started with. It would do neither of us any good.”

A glint shone in the redhead’s gaze, a realization forming behind his chestnut brown eyes. “So… how do you plan to ‘crack’ this?” 

Violet shrugged, attempting to seem apathetic to his stare. “I’m infiltrating, of course.”

And if Violet let out a squawk that birds would be incredibly jealous when he launched himself at her again, for an embrace this time, that was nobody else’s business but her own.

--

This is for my Creative Writing class, but I decided to share it with the world as well just to see if people would enjoy it. I am not open to criticism so please, just enjoy what you are reading or, if not, scroll away. This will spare us both the heartache of hatred or any animosity. I will admit this is not to the best of my ability for I initially wrote this extremely sleep deprived and cranky and wanting a 'pick me up'.

rebloging in hopes of someone continuing this fine prompt. (I can’t write romance for shit-)

DeadTired Draft

"You're very good at pretending to be a shadow."

Tim's voice shook Danny from his quiet note taking and he looked up at his study partner with furrowed brows and confusion on his face. "I'm sorry?" It was as much a question as it was an apology which meant it was neither really.

Electric blue eyes pinned him in place, and Tim looked at Danny as if he had just said the sky was green. "If I had not been partnered with you in our ecology class I wouldn't know you exist. No one at this school knows you exist besides the staff and even then you're a name to a face to a grade. Nothing else. You're very good at pretending to be a shadow, a bodiless thing gliding along the edges of society."

Danny bit his lip slightly, mulling these words over. Tim was right of course, he never allowed himself to make waves, he stuck to the background of any place he was in, and really he was surprised that he wasn't more noticeable with how often Tim Drake-Wayne was his study partner. "I guess...I've never really like attention anyway. Why, you stalking me, Drake?" He raised a brow at the other boy, attempting to hide his confusion behind snark. He hardly ever used Tim's last name, either of them, but this seemed like an appropriate time to do so.

"Hiding something, Nightingale?" Tim snarked back but there was a bit of genuine questioning under his tone that had Danny tensing up in his sit, gripping his pencil a little too tightly in his left hand. "I can only contact you through your student email, you don't have a phone number or a phone period as far as I can tell, you have a laptop that barely works and seemingly requires a blood sacrifice to do the most basic of tasks. You live on campus but you never let me see your dorm, you never agree to meet me anywhere but the library on campus and I just-" He lets out a heavy sigh and runs his hands through his hair and suddenly Danny is a lot less tense in his seat. When Tim's eyes settle on him again there's genuine concern there and it breaks his heart. "I am worried. Daniel Nightingale doesn't exist outside of this college and it makes me think you're running from something or someone. If that isn't the cause then by all means please tell me I'm overstepping but Danny..." Tim reaches across the table that separates them and grabs at his free hand. "If you need help I'm here, ok?"

And oh...oh Danny's core positively sings in his chest at the admission. Protection was a major obsession for Danny and the way Tim talked, the way he explained his thought process, it made Danny feel warm and fuzzy inside despite the permanent chill in his body. Tim wanted to protect him and wasn't that so sweet? "I-" Danny stuttered before a sad smile was spreading across his lips and he gave the boy's hand a gentle squeeze. "I appreciate that but unless you have a way to somehow get an entire government organization disbanded and legislature revoked then I'm afraid this is out of your ballpark."

And really, Danny should've known better than to open his fat mouth. He should've known that the Fenton luck would bite him in the ass with his first real friend since Sam and Tucker. Tim may have dropped the conversation after that but by no means had he dropped the topic entirely. No instead apparently he had somehow gotten into contact with the Justice League because less than two weeks later Batman, Red Robin, Superman, and John Constantine of all people were waiting for him inside his dorm when he got back from a late night of studying.

What.

The.

Fuck.

Here is a very very very rough pencil drawing for Critical Role

getting back to calligraphy after quiet a long while

Draft of More Oblivious Optimus Moments

Optimus casually recalls teasing Megatron about marriage, unknowingly triggering Megatron’s long-buried crush—leading to flustered punches, dramatic exits, and a room full of exasperated friends finally explaining to Optimus that Megatron likes him, you glorious idiot.

The following is a very, very short/incomplete draft.

---

“Okay,” she said, arms crossed. “We’re doing this now.”

“Doing what?” Optimus asked.

“The conversation,” Ratchet added, rubbing his optics with one hand. “The one we should have had years ago but didn’t because your processor runs on honor and dense titanium.”

“I—thank you?” Optimus said uncertainly.

Ultra Magnus cleared his throat, which meant he was about to say something uncomfortable. “Optimus… Megatron was not enraged. Not truly. That—was not anger.”

Bumblebee leaned over and helpfully translated: “He was blushing. And flailing. And screaming. You don’t do that when you’re mad. You do that when someone tells you they want to marry you and your internal fans fail trying to keep up.”

Optimus blinked. “He punched me.”

“Because he didn’t know how to handle it!” Elita said, exasperated. “Primus, he probably dreamt about that moment for a megacycle afterward and screamed into his berth-pillow about it!”

Soundwave made a soft clicking noise. When everyone turned to him, he shrugged—a clear “She’s right.”

Optimus frowned. “But his face turned red from rage—”

“Nope,” Ratchet cut in. “That was embarrassment. Full energon-flushed facial plating. Textbook flustered warlord.”

“I—what?” Optimus looked genuinely baffled. “But… I joked about marrying him. That’s—surely that’s not something that would make him—”

“Elita,” Ratchet said dryly. “Please tell your noble idiot what flirting is.”

Elita said. “You basically fake-proposed to your secret crush and flirted without knowing it.”

“He’s not my crush!” Optimus blurted.

The entire room fell silent.

Even Soundwave tilted his head, as if questioning the very fabric of reality.

Optimus cleared his throat. “I mean—I didn’t think he’d take it seriously.”

Bee clutched his helm. “Optimus. He punched you twice and ran away screaming both times. That is the universal Cybertronian symbol for ‘I can’t handle how much I like you.’”

Elita sighed, stepping forward and placing both hands on Optimus’s shoulders. “You are the smartest mech I know. You’ve led armies. Taken down tyrants. Been chosen by the Matrix itself. But for the love of Primus, you are the densest mech on Cybertron when it comes to love.”

Optimus opened his mouth.

Then slowly closed it.

And very quietly said, “...He likes me?”

Soundwave made a series of chirps, translated loosely as, "He has liked you since before the war, you chrome-plated romance novel."

Optimus staggered back half a step and sat down heavily in his chair.

A beat of silence passed.

Then:

“...Should I apologize for not realizing sooner?”

“No,” Elita said. “You should go find him before he explodes from mutual pining and throws a chair through a window.”

Bumblebee grinned. “And maybe bring flowers.”

Ratchet muttered, “And wear extra armor. Just in case punch number three’s a knockout.”

Optimus buried his face in his hands.

“Primus help me.”

“No,” Elita said, already pushing him toward the door. “Go help yourself. Preferably by knocking on his door and asking if the proposal still stands.”

“Or if he wants to propose this time,” Bumblebee added.

Ratchet snorted. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Soundwave hummed a quiet tone that sounded suspiciously like a wedding song. "Here Comes The Bride", Richard Wagner's opera Lohengrin.

Haha I wrote a long story while bored. It originally was a draft. Should I continue it? (Writers block)

Prompt: The Coffee Shop Encounter: Your favorite characters from different fandoms accidentally meet in a coffee shop in the human world. What surprising connections are made? (Characters: Light Yagami - Death Note. Akira Howard - Astral Chain. Near - Death Note. Shuichi Saihara - Danganronpa 3. Ticci Tobi - Creepypasta. Jeff the Killer - Creepypasta. Kafka - Honkai Star Rail. Blade - Honkai Star Rail. Silver Wolf - Honkai Star Rail.) 

This story is told from Light Yagamis POV

I didn’t have much time normally. After all, the amount of the scum on this planet was detestable, and someone had to clean it up. What new god would I be if I took a break? 

Yet this was one of the vile times where I had to lay low. It was simply unfathomable to me why they didn’t want me to clean up this world. To make it pure.

Though right now I had nothing to do but face these… requirements head on. And what wouldn’t look more normal than going to the new cafe that opened up? Maybe I needed to put my hand itching for a pen around a fork instead.

The walk to the cafe wasn’t that far from my house, and was actually pretty nice in comparison to huddling in my room with pen, ink, and paper. After all, I’ve spent so much time in front of my computer that I think my chair is exhausted of me.

The inside was peaceful, only disrupted when I brought a small gust of wind in with me through the door. Once the door closed behind me, I was fully inside the small cafe named “Sunlight”, having wood in shades of light orange on the wall, and contrasted by some shades of brown wood outlines for contrasting here and there. It was like they were trying to match their name, but in comparison to blinding ball of light in the sky, they actually set the mood pretty nicely.

The music in the background continued to faintly play as I walked up to the glass case, holding a myriad of different food with smooth white shelves. On the top shelf, a large, layered, circular cake caught my eyes. It seemed to be a strawberry shortcake, on the top layer along with the other cakes, its soft colors complementing the base it was sitting on.

I had come without an order prepared, not scouting out the place before as my dad might. Well, if he got any time off on the Kira case at all.

Even though the cake looked like something Ryuzaki would eat, it did look appealing so I placed it as my order and went to sit down. 

I let out a sigh and looked around, taking in the environment. The overhead fans continue to rotate, making sure the air wasn’t too hot and keeping the cafe at a normal comfortable temperature. It was a relaxing place to say the least, sheltering passerby’s from the bright sun overhead, while satiating their hunger with the knickknacks this place produced.

You may think that it’s weird that I didn’t come with my obsessive, modeling, and pop star “girlfriend” Misa Amane. After all, I wouldn’t be surprised if Ryuzaki thought our relationship was one sided, since he didn’t seem to understand why she was so obsessed with me in the first place. 

Even so though, it seemed like no one knew she was dating a college student that is the son of the chief of police. Which was surprising since it seemed like some peoples jobs to dig up gossip about others and spread it to the farthest corners of the earth.

It turned out that I wasn’t the only one sitting at a table alone surprisingly. You’d think that when a new place opens up, swarms of people would be all over it, with their curiosity getting the better of them. Yet a sparse amount of people were here, making it look like this was an undiscovered gem just gaining popularity.

The first person that caught my eye was one of the three sitting alone, appearing to be a male with messy medium-length black hair. He had a dark blue, form fitting, and dress shirt that had a gray chest plate with the word “police” on it in red. He had some sort of device on his left wrist, hooked to a gray pack thing in his back with a blue chain. It was definitely weird, or unusual as some may call it, along with the fact that his “police” uniform looked nothing like I'd seen before. There was a chance that this light-skinned police officer was from some police force that L hired, but that was unlikely. Ryuzaki would tell me if he did something like that, unless he thought I was Kira which would be a giant pain. 

We both seemed to be waiting for what we ordered, even though this “police” officer stuck out like a sore thumb compared to me. Though this man wasn’t the only one who looked out of place here. This cafe seemed to have attracted an interesting type of people.

For example, another person sitting alone was wearing what appeared to be an academy outfit, even though I didn’t know what school it was from. But to be fair, it wasn’t like I was touring all the schools in Japan.

The person was pale, and wearing a black cap with three white stripes lining the back of it. It also had silver star pinned near the front and from what I could see, he had short dark teal hair under his dark-colored cap. I couldn’t see his face then he was in a spot where he was looking away from me, but I could see his slim figure sitting in the wooden chair.

Though another person was sitting alone with the same shape of body like him, but this person seemed to be more like a boy then something you would call a “man” or consider a “adult of the male gender.” He kept curling his shaggy platinum hair around his finger, which was nearly the same color as his white shorts and pants. He was slender with fair skin, and honestly gave me the same vibes that Ryuzaki gave me.

I heard a faint sound of someone saying “thanks”, and when I turned my head to the direction of the sound, I saw the side of the teenage “policeman” face, his dark grey-brown eyes focused on the waitress serving him his order. Coincidentally, my order came to. And just like the “policeman” I thanked the waitress too before the plate with my cake was placed in front of me, and I grabbed my silver fork, prepared to start eating.

When I was able to get a small piece of the cake in my mouth, it melted instantly. The vanilla cream complemented the strawberries perfectly, adding a bit of creamy vanilla taste to the sweet strawberries. And the dough had been kneaded perfectly, making the sponge light and fluffy, perfect to easily slide down your throat as if it was a boat for the rest of the ingredients.

Unlike me, the white haired boy and the boy with the black cap hadn’t received their order. Instead, the child was piecing together a puzzle made completely of blank puzzle pieces, while the school boy was staring at the other seat in front of them, likely lost in thought. Both of the two were silent, along with me, observing everyone like they were animals in a nature documentary. 

The only talking was from the only group of three, muttering to each other in hushed tones. Two of the three sitting there had their back to me, with one of them wearing a short black coat along with a crop-top which covered the upper part of her body. She also wore a black unbuttoned shorts with a decorative piece of black and purple fabric that hung off her back, along with a white belt that has a game console attached at her hip. Without her stomach being covered, that likely meant that her navel was exposed, but I couldn’t tell, since there was only one person on the other side of them, giving me a clear view of the front of them.

He looked to be a man with fair skin, long dark blue hair with red tips, and red eyes. He wore an oriental-styled black tailcoat with red clothed insides and gray trousers. The tailcoat was embroidered with gold and dark blue colors, and he wears a black belt alongside a styled metal decoration on his left thigh. He was the only man at the table, sitting across from another woman.

This woman appeared to be young with red wine-colored hair that was tied in a messy ponytail with two loose bangs hanging on either side of her face. She looked older than the gray haired woman to the right of her, making it look like this was just a family out for a meal. And if they were, who was I to judge? Though they did seem a little more suspicious than a normally family would, you could easily tell from the gold and silver here and there that they were among the people that were a “higher class”. 

Though in comparison to the other party of people in here, they were actually more normal.

With the remaining taste of sweetness sticking around in my mouth every time I finished taking a bite of the cake, I decided to get a bitter drink to counteract it. I pulled out my phone since I didn’t want to get up and grab a menu, and began to scroll through one of there digital menus I had found online through google. Scrolling past rows and rows of drink choices, I finally found an appealing drink titled “Párizsban” which was actually the word Paris in Hungarian. 

Eventually I managed to flag down a waiter and get my order placed shortly before they walked to the back of the building. The drink in the menu was described as a “coffee with a light brown color, tasting of nuts while the top of the drink had a bit of frothed milk styled to look like the Eiffel Tower.” Whoever had to do the styling for the top of that drink definitely had me feeling bad for them, though they also had my respect to. Whoever was able to make a design like that using a bit of milk was very obviously talented, and could likely pursue a career of art if they tried hard enough. Though that wasn’t the end of the description, also talking about how they put peppermint pieces around the lip of the cup, trying to make the smell “alluring like the city of Paris is.” And also to represent the “city of lights” part of Paris, which was a famous description that it continued to carry.

Honestly the peppermint part seemed a bit slapped together, but this cafe just opened so you couldn’t blame them. They definitely had a good idea going here, it just needed a bit of refinement and touching up here and there. But what that couldn’t help, was the fact that the entire atmosphere was off set a bit from the group of two, sitting in silence.

The one with the back to me had messy brown hair that went in every which way, and his pale, almost gray skin was brought out by luminescent lighting. He was wearing a brown-blue hoodie pullover, a pair of denim pants, a black and white-striped face mask, and he had yellow-tinted goggles on top of his head. On his back there appeared to be an axe with blood that had rusted over, making my built-in-alarm-sounds I had gained from being Kira go off, screaming that he was a villain that needed to be killed. 

Times like these were times that I wanted Misa so I could grab the brunettes name, yet she wasn’t here and it didn’t seem like the cops were going to do anything either. They seemed to be so off-put from his uncomfortable aura that at most they just stared for a while before walking off. Humans were utterly disgusting.

I scoffed and rolled my eyes, focusing on the utterly horrific man on the other side of him. They were a pale, noseless man with long black hair and a Joker-esque grin carved into his face. They didn’t have any eyelids either, and had a slim fitting body to go along with his horrific appearance. The longer I stared at him, the faster my heart raced. And as I was staring at him he lifted his head, his gaze meeting mine, making me flinch instinctively.

Luckily though a waiter bringing me my coffee blocked my eyesight of him with their arm, taking my empty plate that previously contained my shortcake away. 

Thankfully though when my eyesight hit the terrifying figure again, he was back to eating again. Though I knew better than to continue staring at him, so I averted my gaze into the distance and began sipping my hot coffee with a heart that was definitely racing faster than normal.

Broken Halos

okay. after a while of writers block, i FINALLY have a summary for y’all! (of the fic i promised a while back) its called Broken Halos

As Adam’s third wife in Eden, you made it through life together, yet through everything you grew distant. You don’t know what went wrong, all you know is that you lost your best friend and now you are losing your husband. Lucifer was your best friend, your light in the darkness that was your relationship with Adam. Sure you and Adam had your good moments, but many times you couldn’t wait to escape him. Lucifer kept you company through everything, he listened and even consoled you when you cried. That was until you ate the apple. When you ate the apple you suddenly understood, you finally knew what you had just been living with thinking it was the way things are. Now you know that it doesn’t have to be that way. You can live how you want, you don’t have to obey everything Adam says. However Heaven didn’t like this, because of your disobedience you and Adam were cast out of the garden. You stopped seeing Lucifer, and you never knew what happened of him until you arrived in Heaven. Sera informed you of everything, it was a roller coaster of emotions and grief, but it’s been centuries since then. Now you live a routine life with your alleged husband, seeing your children often and going to work everyday with the council. Everything is so boring, yes there is always gossip about other angels personal lives. But nothing has ever caught your attention quite like when you heard Lucifer and Lilith have separated. You want to investigate further, but you know its not your place. But you must know. You need to get more information, and you just just that when Sera confides in you about the whole situation. But what are you even going to do with this information?

(apologies this was rushed and very rough, i swear this will be good. im very excited to continue publishing!)

Saw this photo on Twitter yesterday and an idea for a story came to mind

i love creative writing brainstorming phase :)

Rough Draft: Scene 3 Page 20

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Last page of the scene! We got one more scene to go.

Sorry I'm taking so long to get these posts out. I still have so much going on in my life that this comic is such a low priority for me at the moment. I still have plans of finishing what I started before the end of this year, so I'm not giving up! We still have about six months to go. Once we get through the rough draft, that's when the real trial begins.

Oh, how fun.

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For some reason, there is a lot of undressing in this section??? Man, what the fuck is going on...I say as I change absolutely nothing. I want to get through this stage, so onwards!

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♫ - What I’m currently listening to.

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And that makes the end of scene 2! I wanted to get the first page of scene 3 out before my hiatus, but we'll need to wait until I return. We have about 3-2.5 more scenes to go. I'm excited to make it through the drafting process. If I stick to my plan, chapter 1 will be about 25 pages, give or take. Once that's done, we will start to color. I'm thinking about using the same coloring technique as this post.

Anyway, wish me luck on draft 2 of my book! Hopefully, it doesn't take me too long.

See you soon! :)

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♫ - What I’m currently listening to.

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And here concludes scene 1! I went back last night to make a few tweaks to the previous pages, and I'm likely going to make a few more as we progress, just so I have less work for myself in the future. I feel pretty motivated currently, so fingers crossed that scene 2 will be started and concluded in a timely manner.

Here's to another 6 pages!

Rough Draft: Scene 1 Page 5

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Rough Draft: Scene 1 Page 4

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Rough Draft: Scene 1 Page 3

♫ - What I’m currently listening to.

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AND I'M BACK! Somehow I managed to finish the first draft of my novel in a matter of 20 days! I feel so accomplished—only now I have a ton of editing to do, and a million other things that come before publishing a novel.

That will be for future me. The current me is excited to get into the swing of things. Behold the next page that I started last month and I'm only now finishing...

Let's hope page 4 doesn't take as long.