Oc x canon slop

Experimenting with coloring styles

+ a silly comic between these two

When the seconddraft have sound

In the writing course I’m taking, I must take a month-long break between the first draft and the second. During that month, I’m supposed to read as much as I can and take notes, erasing my own book from my mind. The goal is to read so much that I forget my voice, allowing me to have fresh eyes for editing. This week, I’ll be reading Brooklyn by Colm Tóibín, an Irish author, and Strange Pilgrims by Gabriel García Márquez.

I’m not a fast reader, and as I’ve mentioned before, I have never read a book faster than it was written. Reading multiple books at a time helps, but I truly think I won’t have enough distraction to reset myself enough. I can’t read fast and probably only finish one new book this month. It is what it is. Thankfully and tragically, this is not a graded course, so I’m not going to fail any tests but my own—editing my book with fresh eyes.

I might have to cut the BIG IDEA from my story…

So I’ve been working on my second draft (or trying to anyway). I’ve finished the revisions AGES ago but can’t find myself getting past chapter one. I seriously thought going into the next draft would be easier because I’d have more knowledge of exactly where my story would need to go.

But I find myself at this crazy impasse regarding the main plot of my story and what made me want to write this story as it is what drives the entirety of the story! To explain how dire this is: Every. Single. Aspect. Revolves around it.

And now, with my notes and starting to rewrite with new developments… I’m having a very difficult time trying to make it fit where it really needs to fit or nothing else makes sense.

I really don’t want to have to cut it because it’s EVERYTHING!

And I know the whole “Kill Your Darlings” quote is hanging over my head as I type this but…

I just needed to get this out into the ether because it’s really putting a halt to my writing process and I don’t want to skip around have to come back to it.

*sigh*

NINE LEAPS AWAY FROM HOME

You are the youngest of three. However, you always say you are the youngest of nine because your cousins might as well be your siblings. You always spend time together: playing in the backyard, going to the park or the beach, museums, zoos, everything fun. Nevertheless, being the youngest of nine is a hard job. You always go around everywhere bringing water, food, phones, and remote controls to everyone in the house. Even when is nearest to them. Is being older making them lazier? You are not sure, but you hope you won’t be like them. With time you get used to it, as they always give you the yummiest piece of the chocolate cake and the warmest hugs.

The best thing is playing together. Ever since your grandfather gifted you the trampoline it has become your favorite toy in the whole world. You still remember his gold eyes when he told you to share it with your siblings and cousins and he is right because: JUMPING IS THE GREATEST! Everybody should have someone to jump with. When you are up you see the world as a tiny ant colony and when you go down you feel the breeze brushing your cheeks. Sometimes you spin in the air, so that little butterflies twirl in your stomach and fly up to your head. It always makes you feel funny. Every time you jump on your trampoline is a new adventure, not only can you go as high as you want, but you can also be whoever or whatever you want to be.

Sometimes you all become beachballs, other times frogs and even fishes. The gills are amazing, but when you get out it feels awkward to breathe through your nose again. It makes you sneeze. These transformations are especially fun when it rains. Every time it does, your cousin, Carlos, becomes a ball only to spin and hit everybody with waterdrops. You, on the other hand, enjoy becoming a frog for you can hop even higher. Even when is a hot and sunny day you have fun up there, as you all become popcorn kernels waiting to explode under the hot Ecuadorian sun. Everybody goes around the trampoline: sitting, jumping, laying down.

The adults never go in, but they make delicious snacks. Now and then, there are chocolates and cookies, but most of the time there are sanduchitos and Fioravanti. It is very funny when they bring you popcorn when just seconds ago you were one. On special occasions, they sit all together under the shade with grandpa and grandma drinking something called “adult juice”. They say it some are made from grapes and some from wheat, but it doesn’t smell like them. There even are different colors: purple, brown, yellow. One time you saw your cousin take a sip from your uncle’s glass and make a funny face. That is when you realize you should call it “funny juice” instead.

Your grandpa sits the nearest to the trampoline every time. He makes jokes and screams all your names as you present a show as different creatures and make all kinds of stunts. His eyes shine while you scream today’s theme: Jungle Race. Your brother claps and jumps turning into a monkey who swings along the lianas on the net while your sister is a tree whose branches make an obstacle course. She makes it bigger and bigger pushing the net further every round. Three of your cousins are felines: a tiger, a panther, and a leopard. They race each other through the course. The other three are birds who oversee the start and finish line. Your job is the parrot referee, you narrate the race and oversee the cheaters. But they never listen to you when they do cheat.

Once you are finished, you all come down shaking the feathers and fur away. Your grandpa tickles and pats down everyone’s heads as you make a row to get water. The trampoline always makes you thirsty. When your turn comes, he holds his hand a little longer and messes up your hair trying to pick up the feather stuck on it, which wins him a glare from your mother across the table. She fixes it and removes the bits of dirt that had got stuck when your brother pushed you out the net of the trampoline.

            Not long after it starts to rain heavily, so you all go inside the house. You want to go back out there and play on the trampoline in the rain. But your mother doesn’t allow it. “Cariño, can’t you hear the thunders, it isn’t a good time to go play on the trampoline right now,” she tells you. “But I can be a thunder frog and shoo the thunders away,” you respond in a heroine pose. She laughs as she brings you to your room to change. The rain continues for three days non-stop. That means you couldn’t use it for three whole days.

Finally, it stops on the morning of the fourth day. You wake up to a bright sun in the sky, which gets you excited to go up and play. Quickly, you put on your shoes and run up the stairs. As you open the door to the rooftop you see the floor is still damp. The padded ladder feels cold as your tiny feet touch it. It smells weird like the metallic glasses your grandma had at her home, but stronger. The first jump should be as your normal self to honor the grand reopening of the trampoline. Your siblings’ steps get closer as you take the big leap. You close your eyes to feel the breeze and your brother and sister go through the door as the floor beneath you collapses. They shout out your name and run as you are greeted by concrete ground. Your eyes flood making your cheeks feel cold. Your sister helps you up, while your brother goes to bring your mother.

In no time your mom comes up and wipes the tears away. She starts checking your body and after seeing everything was okay, she massages your knees while reciting, “Sana, sana colita de rana, si no sana hoy sanará mañana.” You calm down and ask what happened, “Mommy, why does the floor of the trampoline hurt so bad today?”. “You hit the floor silly,” your sister chimes in before your mother. “The springs of the trampoline oxidize and broke because of the rain, so as your sister says, you didn’t fall on the trampoline but on the actual floor,” your mom explains one of her hands knocking on the concrete. You are sad after hearing the news but follow your mother’s directions to go down and put ointment on your knees.

The whole morning you wonder what you can do to fix the trampoline. But you can’t use the house computer because your brother is playing on it. So, you ask your sister, and she tells you you need to buy a new one. But you don’t want a new one, you like yours. In the afternoon your dad comes home from work and takes down the trampoline and puts it in a box. Then he goes to his room and closes the door. The trail of apothecary smell still lingers as you lean on it trying to hear his voice. He is talking to your mom, but you can’t understand their words. Afterward, they come out and you fall from your peeping spot. They help you up and deliver the most terrible news. They weren’t going to fix the trampoline. You walk together to the living room, where they explain something. But you don’t understand very well.

Not long after, they start bringing boxes to the house and you are asked to put all your toys and clothes in them. Your siblings do the same. You watch your father take the boxes and put them in the trunk of the car. Grandma and grandpa come and help organize some of the things. You bring the box with the trampoline and try to fit it in the car. But it is filled to the rim. Grandpa sees you as you stand on your tiptoes trying to fit it on the top part. He puts a crown on your head before grabbing the box away from your hands. “Don’t worry, princesa. Your humble servant will fix it and keep it well in the castle, right next to your beetles’ collection. So, you can come to visit anytime you want to jump” he says. You smile and hug him in gratitude. Then, you go up again to fit all your stuffed animals in another box.

Suddenly, your mother takes you to visit your cousins more often. Even though you can no longer play with the trampoline, you still have fun playing with them. You run in their backyard and hide in dark rooms. When the days are hot, you dump buckets of water at each other and when it rains you go to the park and jump on puddles, hopping around. Then you move and you start seeing them less and less often.

Your grandpa keeps his promise and fixes the trampoline, but there isn’t a big enough space for it in their backyard. He tries to rent a place to build it again, but it became too expensive quickly.  So eventually it goes back in the box again. As years pass all your cousins begin to move away, for college, for work, for love. Therefore, you see them even more rarely. Now you introduce yourself as the youngest of three. Ultimately it is your turn, and you also move away.

*          *          *

You wake up to the croak of your phone. The light shining from the window bothers your eyes. You take your covers away and wipe the sweat from your face. Half asleep you read your mom’s name and answer the phone with a groggy voice.

“Good morning, mi bella durmiente! It’s 9 am already. It is time to wake up. Don’t forget your flight leaves today at 1 pm. So, you should get to the airport by 11 pm.”

“Hi, Mom. Yes, I know I am not seven anymore.”

“Well too bad because you will always be my baby.”

“Yeah, yeah. So… tell me how is grandpa? Is he excited about his big day?”

“Of course, it is not every year your turn 80.”  

“Mom, you never turn the same age twice.”

“I know. But he truly is excited to see all of you together after so long and so am I.”

“Bet. I also miss them. Anyway, mom, I’ve got to go, I haven’t finished packing yet. Te amo!! Bye!”

You hang up the phone, roll out of bed and go take a shower. You put on your frog showering cap and turn on your favorite showering playlist. The loud salsa music mixed with the water falling can’t cover the sound of your thoughts as you become anxious to see your family. You soak your body in cold water before going out. Afterward, you finish packing. You make sure to double check the gifts are wrapped in clothes, so they won’t break. The photo frame with your grandpa’s gift is carefully stored in your hand luggage. When everything is ready you take a taxi to the airport.

When your flight arrives you are greeted by two tiny monsters you call niece and nephew who run to you screaming your name alongside “auntie”. Their elegant clothes make them look like tiny adults and your tummy fidgets for their cuteness. Though, weirdly, you have now become an adult they can call auntie. Swiftly, you brush that thought away and pick them up to shower them in kisses. They pull your bucket hat off and start fighting for it. You put them down take your chunky rings off and give them to them, so they stop. Meanwhile, your sister, Amelia, reaches you a few seconds later, her arms linked with her husband. You get excited to see her and hug each other tightly. You want to squeeze her away after not seeing her for such a long time, but you control yourself by seeing the size of her bump. Apparently, you aren’t the only one excited. The baby starts kicking and you break the hug away. Then you greet her husband warmly and they take you to the party.

The trip feels short as you catch up on everything you have done since you had last seen each other. A phone call is never as detailed as a car conversation. Amelia tells you she missed you as you start telling her excitedly about all the amphibians you saw on your expedition to the Amazonas. She laughs when she hears you named one of the frogs after your cousin Carlos and makes a shocked expression when you explain how they drink water. Sadly, before she could give you much detail about her life you arrive at the venue.

The entrance is adorned with big palm trees and jungle noises. For a moment you feel back at the Amazonas and become ever so slightly excited. Are those monkeys you hear? You and your sister make eye contact trying to contain your laugh as you see the wood sculptures of animals surrounded by balloons. Eventually, you both fail after eyeing the nine-story cake of different animals. “Welcome to the jungle matiné of an 80-year-old!” you say holding your stomach back from laughter. “You’ve got to give props to him for never losing his childish side,” your sister responds. “That’s true… Look there even is a small petting zoo over there,” you comment, your laugh finally ceasing. You both grin at each other and go look for your grandparents.

Your grandfather is wearing a crown and your grandmother a tiara. They are hiding, sitting by a tree looking out somewhere. You and your sister approach them and notice that your brother and cousins have found them as well. Your brother approaches you first and locks you in his arms. You struggle for a little bit, but then give up to his embrace and hug him back. The smell of his cologne mixed with sweat overwhelms you with memories of the last holiday. He is followed by all your cousins who jointly decided walking linking arms will be a good idea. You do so awkwardly until you all trip. While trying to stand up, you laugh melancholically at the familiar situation. Hearing your fall, your grandparents turn around to meet you. All of you reunite in a big hug as you congratulate the birthday boy in bulk. The mischievous laugh of your grandpa reaches your ears before you feel his fingers tickle you at your side. Even your grandma joins in the fun, your squirming bodies move away, dissolving the hug. Then, Carlos asks them what they were looking at before. In response, they just point to the horizon.

Your eyes scan the scene until you see it: The trampoline. You look at him in disbelief. He only nods in response as if reading your mind, his eyes grow warmer. Afterward, you look at your siblings and cousins, your eyes and minds connecting in unison. Still in shock you walk up with them. At first slowly, then faster, and faster as you come closer to it. Before going in your brother asks you, “You don’t think it still can make us transform. Do you?” “Only one way to find out!” you respond opening the net of the entrance. Once inside you see your grandpa with a big grin on his face, which gets bigger and bigger every time one of your cousins goes through. Your nephews and nieces come toddling to the place. Their faces are twisting in expectancy to jump in there as well. Unable to contain yourself a snort escapes you. You imagine they have already heard about its magic from their great-grandfather. All your cousins and siblings finish getting in. The trampoline is crammed for a little while, but soon the jungle party became wilder inside.

The Key - Rough Draft & Down for Critiques on Whether You Enjoy it?

Minerva laid on the floor of the forest, blinking the dirt from her eyelashes, a throbbing pain coursing through her head and abdomen as she coughed red into the ground. She was freezing, but couldn’t tell if her shivering was from the Fall air, or the amount of blood she had lost.

With hazy vision, one eye swollen shut, she looked up at the tall, dark figure lingering in the tree line. She attempted pulling herself onto her hands and knees, her muscles aching with pain, joints groaning against the effort. She mustered the strength to push herself back into an upright position before brushing her matted, dark hair from her face.

“Where is The Key, Minerva.” The silky voice seemed to surround her senses, accompanied by the familiar, enticing Cedarwood Cologne. It all felt soft, delicate to her, even. But demanding and disheartening all the same. Fear started settling into her bones as she lifted her head once again to stare at the figure.

I have to get up, she thought to herself, panicked hands attempting to lift her body before buckling beneath her weight and forcing her back down.

“Minerva,” the voice sang, “I could take this pain away, Darling. I could make this easier for you.”

Minerva, felt a massive tinge of pain in her chest. Every small amount of air she was able to muster seemed to disappear half-way to her lungs, leaving her wheezing. The action of breathing alone was not only becoming difficult, but agonizing.

“You won’t survive this otherwise, Minerva.” Suddenly, the voice was directly in front of her, along with a pair of black, leather dress-shoes, “And to be deeply honest with you…I’d love to keep you around.” He then bent over and grabbed her chin between his thumb and pointer finger.

Though blurry, she could just make out the curving Hemberge Blade gripped tightly in his right hand, shimmering beneath the Full Moon. It was dripping with blood.

My Blood. She thought.

She finally looked down at the hole in her chest, pressing her fingers to the area as if to clarify its reality. She hissed with regret, and let out a chuckle. She would die tonight, and at this point she could only accept it.

“Like I could ever be so fickle….” she gasped for air, “you’ll never find it.” with that, she mustered up the strength to spit a wad of mucus and blood onto his leather shoes.

She lifted her head to glare up at him with pride. Their eyes met for second, his face vacant of any emotion.

The man shook his head, still bent at the knee before her. “So tragic.” He mumbled, before pressing the tip of the blade above her heart. In one swift movement, he pressed his moved his hand to her shoulder and pushed the sword into her. He held no emotion here, as he witnessed Minerva’s life leave her lips in a final whispered prayer,

“Mors tua fata tuum signet,

nam sera iam es.

I will be welcomed Home with loving arms,

And The Key will never be yours.”

She suddenly began feeling numb, vision going dark and her mind starting to feel extremely weak.

She slumped back, body going completely limp. He scoffed and pulled his sword back.

Her prophesy meant nothing to him. Though he knew killing her wasn’t wise, he couldn’t be bothered wasting time on torment. Torment was pleasurable, indulgent even. This? A mercy killing.

The man swiped blood from his blade with two fingertips, tracing two vertical lines down her eyes, then her wrists. He leaned down to get a better look at her.

She was a beautiful woman, truly. One of God’s finest. Lifeless green eyes with long eyelashes. High cheek bones and short, curly, deep brown hair that contrasted her tanned skin. He never wanted to hurt her, he could have given her the World. Would have, easily.

But she never wanted the World. Her job was to protect The Key, and to keep it hidden. The Key he was never meant to possess. The Key that taunted him daily.

The Key to his freedom.

She became collateral damage. He wished she would have bent, even just a little for him. He caressed her soft chin once more, and placed a gentle kiss to her cold forehead.

“May you rest peacefully. You no longer have to fight this war.”

He stood tall, and took one last look at the corpse before him. He turned to the dark woods behind him, lifting his arms into the air, letting the feeling of dissipation flow through his limbs.

A sudden fog began devouring the trees before him. It wasn’t long before the only thing left to see were the long, slender beings starting to emerge slowly and lucidly from behind the trees, steam floating off of their shadowed bodies as they trudged to his direction. He glared at them, one by one, taking in the deep red eyes before commanding them,

“Take her body and leave it somewhere to be found easily. Be kind with her, but make sure it looks more of an accident.” He took out the silk Handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped his hands with it, “She’s quite the mess, so you have a complicated job to accomplish.”

The creatures moaned in unison, “Yes sir.” and snaked passed the man towards Minerva. He didn’t look back to watch, but adjusted his cuff-links and collar before taking a take breath in, and striding back into the trees.

He was getting closer.

Be gay, do crime.
Fuck flowers, do drugs.

#amwriting #seconddraft #fictionwriter #justwriterthings
https://www.instagram.com/p/CEDFqlFH6-6/?igshid=6rb0l3hue1uu

i’m insane. ✍️😥 #amwriting #handwriting #seconddraft (at Spanaway, Washington)
https://www.instagram.com/p/CDcmIvKgFrZ/?igshid=1hfgiaw2pbg7v

Ready for phase 3! #art #sketch #seconddraft #illustration #design #drawing (at Philadelphia, Pennsylvania)
https://www.instagram.com/p/B_xR3uAjez8/?igshid=1ucgbjh8sd2g7

“Done” is a good word. A happy word. A satisfying word.
Finished the second draft of my next novel today.
Started writing it on 12/14. Finished the first draft on 2/17.
Started editing the second draft on 2/20
Finished 4/5.
After a few days off, I’ll start third draft before sending it to editing.
I’m tired.
.
#writersofinstagram #authorsofinstagram #writerslife #seconddraft #newnovel #amwriting
https://www.instagram.com/p/B-nNkH5H60L/?igshid=1howc7pwswprx

Tonite! 3/31 — I’ll be singin a couple for @seconddraftla !! Come join us, virtually🤗💛Zoom link in bio! 8:30 start. #littlelonely #coldreadseries #writers #songwriters #seconddraft
https://www.instagram.com/p/B-aYoKZhaKj/?igshid=76mezdl0k2sx

Closing out the week’s writing on a good note. Its Friday the 13th, but I’m feeling lucky.

Blood Ties draft 2 resumes Monday. Have a great weekend!

#writing #editing #friday #editing #BloodTies #seconddraft #2nddraft #TNAC #TheNewAshtonChronicles #indiewriters
https://www.instagram.com/p/B9rYiXTgL-d/?igshid=1262bzuznvuo3

Monday. Vaguely healthy lunch. Large iced coffee. A shameful array of mediocre sweets. A shit ton of revisions. Let’s go. #desertprince #seconddraft (at Prospect Heights, Brooklyn)
https://www.instagram.com/p/B89VeMgg9RV/?igshid=nnsp1yjtl89l

Just powered through four chapters 🙌🙌🙌 #writingcommunity #writerslife #editing #writingandediting #seconddraft #generationzedd #youngauthors #currentlyworkingon #wip
https://www.instagram.com/p/B863iwDHaRz/?igshid=1obyc1adtrcdt

I’m hesitant about sharing this because I’m not a designer and I’m not confident in my design skills, but this is a project I’ve been working on for a friend’s business since May.

I want to share it though because working on this has challenged me and changed the way I look at things and I feel like I have gained a new level of determination over the course of working on this flyer.

That being said though, I think I’m gonna stick to painting in the future. 😅

#designproject #seconddraft #workinprogress
https://www.instagram.com/p/B59_6vAFMtW/?igshid=112pao7bqgvzl

@iamsecond
• • • • • •
New BLOG POST: How to Turn Negative Thinking into Peace.

The first in our 22 Days of Peace series featuring guest writers, special guests, and more. Check it out at the link in our bio.

#22DaysofPeace #SecondDraft #LiveSecond
https://www.instagram.com/p/B4lFNZmFoot/?igshid=88jvkbe202x2

🎩✨ #magiccontainer #misogi #choreography #seconddraft #contemporaryhiphop #dance (at Mark Morris Dance Center)
https://www.instagram.com/p/B1EldgAlEXl/?igshid=1142nj8b9aixp

🎩✨ #magiccontainer #misogi #choreography #seconddraft #contemporaryhiphop #dance (at Mark Morris Dance Center)
https://www.instagram.com/p/B06baHllz3n/?igshid=9c83cb64ubw3

🎩✨ #magiccontainer #misogi #choreography #seconddraft #contemporaryhiphop #dance (at Mark Morris Dance Center)
https://www.instagram.com/p/B03y0NQFmVg/?igshid=1eyrk7x6gs75c