look what i found in my old drafts

when dick was robin and batman was still considered to be mostly this elusive myth, dick absolutely started a conspiracy youtube account whose sole purpose was to post #BatmanConfirmed!! videos, that were just really bad minute-long mystery montages of grainy pictures of shadows outlined with red ms paint lines and arrows — “teh batman was here!!!” and “indisputable proof of batman’s exercisetense!” videos that were immensely popular bc dick is an asshole at heart and usually the grainy photos would actually have batman and robin in them reflected in glass or in pools of water or something equally as frustrating and hidden. and so even when batman actually was #confirmed, the TheTruthIsBatthere account had reached infamy so that even 30 second videos of smog reached thousands of views because a bat-ear could barely be seen in the corner sorta

and like the robin legacy, dick totally passed down the account, so that each robin attempted to outdo the others by getting the most views on their videos. jason’s “this is how i die” video was of him actually falling off a building, laughing like a maniac, and ended with a black gauntlet hand forcibly moving the lens of the camera away and a black smudge saving robin from falling to his death. tim’s was filmed like a crappy noir film, all in black and white with a bad orchestral song in the background, with, in the distance, vaguely, batman and robin jumping from roof to roof, doing sweet flips and looking appropriately cool and mysterious. stephanie, for the short time she had the account, just straight up gave the camera to a criminal mid-patrol and then proceeded to beat the crap out of them, the camera skidding far away and only catching her boots and sweet kicks. damian, petty as fuck, refusing to be second best at anything, ever, somehow convinced dick (read: casually mentioned in passing, to which dick enthusiastically agreed) to film him say, deadpan, in the Batman Voice in full Batman Gear, “i am the night.” all the robins (sans dick, who thinks it’s hilarious) hate him and say it’s cheating. the video has over a three million views, handidly more than any other video on the TheTruthIsBatthere account. bruce is just done with his kids and wants league members to stop bringing the video up in meetings, it wasn’t even him…

ROUGE ❃ KANG DANIEL DRABBLE (M)

A/N: I completely forgot about this. It was originally written for a friend of mine a while ago… and I mean like a while ago, around 3 years ago. Changed it recently into a Daniel drabble since I found it laying around my old drafts and I had nothing to do with it. 

trigger warning: mention of alcohol, drugs and mature content.

Your mouth gasped for air as his large hands removed a couple strands of hair from your face which was now covered in sweat.

“Dreams again?” he questioned with a concerned look.

You nodded and hugged him, closing your eyes for a second.

“I think I know what could help.” Daniel whispered and blew some hot air on the side of your neck before gently biting it.

“You think?” you asked smiling.

“I’m sure of it.” He said kissing down your neck and up to your shoulder.

He pulled one of the black straps of your bra which made a snapping noise and you playfully hit his arm mouthing an “asshole”, but retreated when Daniel started kissing the same side of your neck where last night between the glasses of alcohol, raw kisses and some puffs, he left a love mark.

Tonight was the same, both of you laying on his king-sized bed, him lighting up a joint as you inhaled the smoke and poured another glass of vodka. For the last few weeks, you have been both running in a circle made out of the always forgotten buds left next to his bed and empty bottles of alcohol left on his stained carpet.

But Daniel doesn’t care, all he cares about is the way your lips curve in a smile whenever you hand him another cigarette, how you’re always biting and licking your lower lip whenever he plays that one song you both love so much cause you know it will always lead to something else.

He now removed both your straps and threw the black bra away along with his white shirt. He cupped your breasts and sucked on the already red area on your neck. You moaned quietly and he turned you around; you were face to face with Daniel - the lone-wolf in your class who has been turning your world upside down for the last three months. You could barely flash him a shy smile before he kissed you hungrily, leaving even more love marks all over your delicate skin. 

Soon every item of clothing was scattered around the room and Daniel took the opportunity to stop for a second and admire your small frame underneath him. He kissed your closed eyelids; gently this time. 

“I want you so much it hurts.” He whispered and entered her tight heat without a warning.

You gasped and dug your nails on the white skin of his shoulders leaving a couple of crimson marks behind.

“I need you. I really do. I need you so much it drives me crazy.” He repeated the words over and over again as he continued his motions and hit your core a little harder each time.

The air filled with your purrs and Daniel’s sweet nothings he continuously repeated in your ear with a smile spread on his face. 

You kissed him longingly and he bite your lower lip still smiling. Your lips were captured in another hot and steamy kiss as he entered inside you one last time, leaving both of you breathless.

Daniel was on top of you placing butterfly kisses over the large, red marks he left on your neck not too long ago. He placed his head on your chest and intertwined your fingers admiring the way your hand fit in his just right. As if they were meant to be. 

“I hope we can stay like this forever. I only need you and nothing else.” He whispered kissing your palm.

The Second Draft

If you try out the style of drafting I’ve been talking about on this blog, your first draft will look very different from first drafts you’re used to. It may not even look much like a story yet, or at least like one you could hand over to a reader. It may look more like a detailed outline or a bunch of serial story notes. Some people don’t even call these things first drafts; I think of them as .5 drafts.

This method won’t suit everybody. It’s best for people who get badly hung up trying to write a more traditional first draft, the kind that’s basically a complete and readable story right off the bat. I’ve never been able to write that kind of draft without putting myself through hell. I switched to this method out of necessity, because I literally couldn’t write the old way anymore. And once I tried it, I found the results easier to work with even though my first drafts looked half-baked in comparison with my old ones.

So, if you draft quickly and messily, you’ll have to change the way you write your second draft as well, since you’re starting with a very different kind of document. Your second draft will more closely resemble a traditional first draft—except it will, if this method suits you, be a lot better and cost you less agony.

Here’s what I do:

  1. If I wrote my first draft with little conscious attention to my means of expression except what I needed to communicate my ideas to myself (which is the whole purpose of doing it this way), then I write my second draft with more of an eye toward form. I think about word choice and sentence rhythmn. I think about the telling detail. I think about evocative description. I think about the way it sounds. I think, in short, about my reader’s experience. This is how most writers tell you to treat the first and second drafts anyway; Stephen King says in On Writing to “write with the door closed, rewrite with the door open.” In other words, the first draft is only for you, a long memo to yourself that does nothing but externalize your ideas for the story. (The difference is that King can apparently do this in complete sentences and lively prose, and I cannot.) The second draft, then, is for other people—it’s you taking your raw ideas and turning them toward the reader.
  2. Before I even start my second draft, I print out my first and make lots of notes in the margins. I find the big holes and plug them. I note where certain sections need to expand or shorten. I flesh out conversations with action and description. In other words, I leave myself some guideposts for turning that messy first draft into a second.
  3. Then—this is key—I don’t touch my first draft. I open a new, blank document and put it next to the first one. (I also lay out my marked-up copy in front of me; but you could scan it and make a PDF if you want.) Then I start writing my second draft clean, essentially “translating” the first draft’s raw thoughts into the more carefully crafted language of the second. I’ve already got that substrate of action, ideas, and metaphors laid out; all I’m doing is turning it into readable prose.
  4. I try not to do this too slowly. I’m always tempted to make my second draft my final one, and thus to obsess over the perfect words. All this does is return me to my old habits of writing. So I try to carry some of that “I’ll fix it later” spirit of the first draft over into my second, even though I’m now thinking more carefully about my prose. If you’re prone to endless noodling when you write, you might even set time limits for your second draft. Don’t try to get it perfect; just get it readable.
  5. Then I leave the story alone for a while—a few days, a few weeks, whatever. When I return to it, depending on my goals for the project I might decide it’s done! More often than not, though, it needs a third pass. So I print it out again and really start fine-tuning the prose. Personally, I revise by hand and then enter the changes into the document; again, that saves me from endless tinkering. (Computers are evil that way; when you write by hand, you tinker less, because it’s less convenient and takes more physical effort.) I even know people who type out their third draft in a fresh document, which I’ve been meaning to try.
  6. Here’s the important part: the more I limit myself to clearly defined and time-limited “passes” through the whole story without pausing too long to labor over a single passage, the happier I am. Instead of making endless changes to a single document, I produce a series of documents that refine themselves with each version. So I generate more drafts than I did in the old days—but as someone who once spent months tinkering with the first 500 words of a novel-length story, I find this infinitely preferable. (I never finished that story, by the way.)
  7. If you like to get feedback on a story, hand it off to a reader at the second-draft stage. Don’t wait until it’s “perfect” to let somebody read it. Remember, your idea of perfect is skewed. And a reader can help you identify major issues before you’ve spent too much time polishing. Your story tends to grow less malleable as you go, so if big things need to change, you’ll want to change them at the earliest stage possible. (One of these days I’ll write a post about getting and using feedback.)

Questions? Comments? I wrote this very fast (!) so I may have left questions unanswered!

Dead of the night~

Pairing: Levi x Reader (platonic)

Warnings: None, except maybe mentionings of deceased people.

Type: One shot

Word count: 1597

No spoilers

~~~~~~

He sighed, another long night of nothing but paperwork. Rubbing his temples he drank some more of his tea. It was his life blood. There was no way he would be able to do half the things he did without it.

Scribbling down his signature down more paper, he got up and stretched, working his aching muscles, before letting out an irritated breath.

“Fucking paperwork. Erwin is a god damn slave driver.” He muttered darkly as he instinctively clicked his tounge.

‘Maybe I should walk around HQ. Maybe I’ll find a brat up past curfew.’ With that thought in his head, he walked out of his door, making sure to close it behind him, last thing he wanted was for a certain eccentric scientist to enter and mess everything up.


As he walked he began to hear foot steps. They weren’t his own either as they were coming from the direction of the kitchen.

‘Are they really that fucking stupid that they would steal food during the night?’ He sped up and rounded the corner with superhuman speed.

Only to find no one there.

He glared and flicked on the switch. Nothing looked out of place - apart from the dust but only Corporal clean would notice something as mediocre as that.

He walked closer to the back, his knee high boots making clanking sounds against the tiled floor as he continued.

He was getting rather annoyed now, he was sure it wasn’t his imagination and that he had heard someone scampering about.

Turning around, he exited the area, finding nothing that would suggest disorder.

As he continued walking around the base, the footsteps started again, but this time they seemed to be coming from behind him. Turning around he found nothing, not even the murky floor gave anything away.

'I really need to get more sleep’ he grumbled continuing, hoping to wear himself out. Anything was better then continuing the atrocity that plagued his immaculate desk.

Once again as he walked the steps behind him started again. But this time they were accompanied by giggles.

His eyes twitched in annoyance as he was yet again greeted by nothing but darkness.

He wasn’t one to be paranoid but he knew no cadet would pull this bullshit. Especially not with him, not if they had a death wish at least.

'If they do it one more fucking time I will lose it.’

He turned the corner, this time no footsteps.

In front of him was a corridor that was rarely used. None of the cadets slept here and the rooms weren’t really used. They had belonged to the older squads that had all persished. It was said that the ghosts of the fallen soldiers haunted the rooms.

But Levi being Levi didn’t believe a single word of that bullshit, his excuse being, “Why would anyone waste their time haunting this shitty place?”


He walked down the hallway, goosebumps covering his pale skin as his lips curled further into a frown.

It was always unusually cold in this area, the various oil lamps scattered around never helped to add warmth.

While he was passing various rooms he couldn’t help but remember everyone that once occupied the space. They were all amazing people that all had their own extensive futures ahead them. He hated himself for never learning all their names, the first time he saw some of them was in the death list that rolled by after every expedition.

With a bitter sigh he carried on down the hallway, ignoring the faint nagging in his mind that told him to backtrack.


Faint sniggers came from behind him again. This time he could make out that they were a females.

He stopped and the laughter ceased. His smouldering eyes narrowed as he looked around, none of the area looking out of place.

Except for one.

The room at the very end had light shining through the crevices of the door.

His glare intensified as he marched straight over to the door, pushing it open as the light switched off suddenly.

Inside there was nothing. Not a thing was out of place. He bit his inner cheek to stop himself from growling.

“Get the fuck out and stop hiding. I know you’re in here.” He barked, the only sound being the squeaking that came from the old hinges on the wooden door.

Silence. It was deafening. He felt like it was personally mocking him. He was not in the mood for crappy jokes pulled by cadets.


“Nice to see you Corporal Levi.”

A feminine voice suddenly spoke from his right, causing his heart to leap straight into his throat from the surprise.

He growled and switched the light back on, glaring at the smiling woman who had her hands in a salute.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

She laughed, the sound eerily similar to the ones from earlier.

“I could ask you the same thing, Sir.” Her lips were uplifted into a cocky little smirk that he wanted to slap right off.

“Just answer the question.” He grunted as he folded his arms across his chest, waiting for an answer.

“I couldn’t sleep Sir.” She responded.

“What about you?” She added, looking him straight in the eyes.

“None of your business.” He responded coldly as she continued grinning.

“Oh come on sir. I won’t tell, I promise.” She sat down on the hard bed, making sure not to break eye contact as she did so.

The way she was looking directly at him, something not even the commander dared to do sometimes, intrigued him.

“Same reason as you cadet.”

“Ah. Maybe we could talk until we get tired?” She suggested, her glittering eyes looking hopeful.

“No.”

Her expression turned into one of confusion.

“And why not Corporal Levi?”

“I would rather do my paper work then talk with someone that runs around HQ laughing like they’re on drugs.” He deadpanned as she grinned broadly.

“Oh come on. It was funny Sir.” She began grinning as he stared daggers at her.

He for one, was not amused.

“Fucking get to sleep. Stupid brat.” He turned on his heel and switched off the lights.


A dark chuckle suddenly erupted from behind him.

“I can’t Sir. Will you help me?” She spoke. But this time her voice didn’t hold any humour, but instead malice that shook him to his core.

He closed his eyes, his impassive expression never changing.

“Fine. If you don’t sleep in 30 minutes, I will personally make sure you run laps till you fucking collapse.” He swivelled back around and turned the lights back on, surprised to see her at the other end of the door.

He could have sworn she was right behind him a few seconds ago.

“Yes sir.” She saluted him as he rolled his eyes, brushing the raven strands from his vision.

“What’s your name, Cadet?” He asked.

“(y/n) Sir.” She replied briskly.

“I heard you like cleaning and black tea Sir.” She randomly blurted, causing him to side eye her.

“And so what if I do?” He sassed back as she shook her head.

“Nothing. I like those things too.”

He had to raise an eyebrow at that, nor once in all his 34 years of living had he met another person who liked cleaning, he doubted she could match up with him though.

“I bet your cleaning is shitty.” He scoffed as a wild glint passed through her eyes.

“Is that a challenge Sir?”

“Maybe.”

She got up and returned with a bottle of bleach and windex.

“Try me.”

'There’s no way this idiot will beat me.’ He thought cockily as he took the bottle from her hands.


He couldn’t believe it.

He had lost.

The great Levi Ackerman had lost.

The way she had cleaned the wood made it so shiny that even looking at it hurt his eyes, and the floor looked so polished that if he even stood on it he would slip so far and fast he would fall off the face of this earth.

“You fucki-” he turned around only to see her sleeping figure collapsed on the bed.

'Oh.’

He quietly shut off the light and closed the door, a slight yawn escaping him as he headed back to his own room.

'I’ll find that brat tomorrow and demand a rematch. She must have cheated.’ Was his last thought as he fell asleep.


He scanned the hall, she didn’t seem to be anywhere. He was expecting her to be with Jaeger and his shitty friends, but she wasn’t there. As hard as he looked he couldn’t spot her hair colour anywhere.

“Oi shitty glasses.”

“What is it, short stack?” Hanji responded, pushing up her glasses as she looked at him briefly.

“Have you seen Cadet(y/n)?” He questioned, tryibg to act nonchalnet despite the fact he was still burning from the fact that she’d won.

“No. Never heard of her. Why, is she your crush?” She cooed and he tch'ed.

Trust her to come to that conclusion.

“No, shut the fuck up.” He got up and headed towards the file room.

He couldn’t have imagined an entire person, could he?

He rumaged around looking for the file of the girl he had talked to yesterday.

He finally found her name. It was old and tattered. The yellowing pages looking like it had seen better days.

He flipped open the folder and began reading. What he read made his blood run cold and his mouth go dry in terror.

'Name: (y/n) (l/n)
Gender: Female
Age: 25
State: Deceased’

anonymous asked:

okay so chapter 6 is one of your favourite chapters?? do you like it more than ch. 1-5??? how would you rank chapters 1-5???? can we have a hont about why chapter 6 is your favourite?? can you tell us what your favourite is?? why do I have so many questions about this statement????? Im sorry 😫

i mean as a mother of ten, i love all of my children equally

if you want me to rank the first half of the fic it’d probably just go in reverse chronological order tbh and that’s mostly bc of the development

chapter six is one of my favorites because we delve deeper into isak’s psyche, understand him a little better, evak’s relationship grows a lot more and they hit a milestone, i think.

i will nOT tell you what my favorite is until after the fic is over bc then y’all will be dissecting a lot more hunting for hints ok

and this made me chuckle ok so i love you

Y’ALL look what i found in my drafts THIS WAS MEANT TO GO IN THE QUEUE LMAO HOW OLD IS THIS wow this was before chapter six

a relic 

posting this just bc (i’ll open my inbox soon hopefully!)

yO look at what I found deserted in my drafts.

I’m 100% certain it’s completely different from campfire jams (this one is like half an hour long ok) but I have no idea what songs are in this because I made this months ago and then never posted it

Anyway there are probs some old songs in there and I wouldn’t be surprised if this is the worst edit so far but yes enjoy if you wanna.

Made with SoundCloud

baby Prisma doodles bc they were such a nerd about Overwatch growing up. having an aunt that worked for it (blackwatch) and happened to be on good terms w the strike commander allowed them to have a day to meet their heroes and their 6 yr old mind was blown

current timeline they have no recollection of this ever occurring and will deny any of their obsession

i don’t understand zhong hui’s body armor

like

is it some weird fabric? pressed to his abs??? so they pop through?????

is it armor??? did he have his armor specially molded for his abs???

if i turned it over, filled it with water, and stuck it in the freezer, can i make ice cubes with it?? IS HIS ARMOR AN ICE CUBE TRAY THAT’S BASICALLY WHAT I’D LIKE TO KNOW???

(bonus picture,

did he have it specially molded for his butt too)

honestly? own up to your work. all of it. even the old stuff from years ago that’s cringe-worthy and borderline embarrassing to look at. 

i’ve been writing fic since like 2010 so i was TWELVE, okay… I’ve been posting my writing online (FF.net) since I was TWELVE and guess what??? I was GARBAGE at it. During a recent bout of writer’s block I was going through some old docs from years ago and found the rough draft to the first fic i ever uploaded. 

and guess what? trash. I didn’t hardly know what a line break was or correct dialogue tags… I was using cliche tropes (and not in a good way) and it was just a mess. 

but you know what? I absolutely loved looking at it. 

It showed me how much I’ve grown and how much I’ve learned, and it made me happy that I began posting at such a young age. I’ve come so far since my little fifth grade self staying up until 3am most nights posting and excited for the next morning when I could check for reviews. 

unfortunately, during my freshman year of high school I made a new FF account under the username I have right now, wordsofawitheringwriter, and I was absolutely ashamed of my old one. I went and deleted every story from it because I was afraid someone would stumble across it and match it up to my new one. I was afraid and embarrassed and hated my first ever stories. 

Going back now, I never would have done it. I’ve lost those stories forever and there’s no way of getting them back and I hate that freshman year me was ashamed of progress. 

So own up to your own work, and instead of being embarrassed by past mistakes, marvel at how far you’ve come.