#digging around in the drafts folder

[coeurdeverre82]

salle du faubourg geneva apr 27 1977

[fuctacles]

Steddie Twilight AU?

So I came up with this for @stmonstercalendar's Incubus Month, then decided that shapeshifting is kinda like being genderfluid, right, so I could hit the @genderthings Eddie Week prompt, but then it grew so this is part one I'm sorry in advance

Also I feel like it fits "no one like you" from my @steddiebingo card

M | 1104 | cw: your high school trauma may resurface | Incubus!Eddie, transfem Stevie, inspired by Twilight, part 1 of 3?, thanks @blasvemous for being an enabler and beta reader | Ao3

Dianne Harrington has always been planning to move as soon as the divorce was finalized. But did she really have to do it on the first day of school? She enrolled Stevie at the local high-school via phone calls and mail, but forgot to mention that not everything could be delivered by post. 

"What's that?" Stevie raises an eyebrow at the manila folder her mom hands her after entering the car. 

"Your documents; copy of insurance and last year's diploma. The school still needs it to finish up all the paperwork," her mom explains as she rolls out of their driveway. "Will you be okay to hand it to the principal, or should I do it?"

Stevie cringes at the mere thought of entering a new high-school with her mom at her side. 

"I'll be late to class," she complains. On top of not knowing her schedule and having to find the right classroom, there's no way she's going to make a good first impression. 

"It's your first day, I'm sure they'll understand."

"Did you forget how terrible high school is?" Stevie widens her eyes pointedly. 

"Oh, don't be dramatic." Dianne rolls her eyes. She reaches over her daughter to open the glove box. "Now, you can't bring your nail bat with you, but I have some pepper spray and brass knuckles you can take. With my permission to use wisely."

Stevie grins, happily digging through the glove box. 

"Thanks, mom!" She pulls out the brass knuckles and fits them on her fingers. "And they match my nails!"

====

Just as she'd suspected, she's late to her first class. At least the principal was nice enough to give her directions, and he had her schedule ready. She's starting with English in classroom 14. Corridor to the left and the first doors next to the staircase. Once she finds it, she takes a deep breath, fixes her hair in the reflection in a glass display on the wall, and knocks. 

"Come in!" A high, feminine voice invites her, and she pushes the door open. The open windows create a draft that raises some papers off the teacher's desk, who rushes to slap them back down. Stevie quickly closes the door. 

"Sorry," she whispers, looking around the class like she's already expecting judgment from the fellow teenagers. 

"Don't worry, I totally forgot about the windows," the teacher waves her hand with a smile, and Stevie breathes a bit easier. At least her first teacher seems nice. "You must be Stephanie, right?"

"Yes," she nods. "Stephanie Harrington, I just moved here."

"Well, welcome to Hawkins," her teacher smiles. "I'm Claudia Henderson, and I'll be your English teacher." Mrs. Claudia reaches out her hand, which Stevie shakes, albeit a little surprised by the gesture. She's more used to her teachers being dry and formal. "There's an empty seat next to Edward that you can take. Today we're only going over the readings for this semester, but if you have any books you've read over the summer, feel free to share it with the class." 

Stevie smiles sheepishly at the teacher. 

"Unfortunately, I didn't have any time to read this summer. Spent most of my time packing up."

"Completely understandable!" Mrs. Claudia nods sympathetically. "Hopefully you'll be able to find some time once you settle in."

"Yeah, hopefully," Stevie smiles back, but freezes once she properly looks at the Edward she was told to sit with. 

He has long hair and is dressed like a punk, black and denim and extensive jewelry, but that's not what she's focused on. His eyes are wide and spooked like he's just seen a ghost, and his hand is clasped over his mouth.

She takes a quick cursory glance over the rest of the class. They seem moderately interested in a new student, as she'd expect. With a small wave to her other classmates, she decides that the Eddie guy will just have to deal. Maybe she'll be able to find a different seat for next time. 

"Hi," she says, polite like she's been taught, before dropping her bag next to his desk. The guy seems to recoil even further away, pressed all the way to the wall and all about ready to jump out of the window. And yet, with his free hand, he gives her a small finger wave. 

Confused, she waves back. It seems like an olive branch, contradicting with his behavior. Maybe he's just not feeling well today. Stevie keeps to her end of the desk, leaving a considerable amount of space between them. She even discreetly sniffs her sweater, but it smells okay, at least to her. 

Edward spends the rest of the class pressed to his corner by the wall and not breathing. She tries not to take it personally, but it's really difficult. 

Especially when the bell rings, and he's the first one to jump out of his seat and escape the classroom, barely in the blink of an eye. 

She overthinks about it all the way to history class, where she bumps into a girl named Robin, and they seem to click instantly, despite their differences. Robin is a good distraction not to think about the maybe-attractive, definitely-weird guy from her first class. 

That is, until the lunch break. 

"Okay, what the fuck is wrong with that guy," she hisses to Robin as she stabs the french fry on her plate. "He's been glaring at me since the first class."

Right now, Edward is sitting at a table with three other, similarly dressed guys. He seems to be engaged n a conversation with them, but now and then, Stevie can feel his hateful gaze on her. 

"Who?" Robin follows her gaze. "One of the freaks?"

"Freaks? What's wrong with them?" Stevie frowns. 

"Nothing, they're just weird." Robin shrugs. "They're metal heads and fantasy nerds. I think they have a band, too?" she hums thoughtfully. "Nothing to worry about though, they just look scary."

Stevie scrunches her nose.

"Are you sure? I really don't like his vibe. The one with long hair? Edward?"

Robin spares a quick glance to the freaks table. 

"You mean Eddie?" 

"Eddie doesn't sound right," she says, to which, Robin snorts. 

"Why? Too normal?"

"Yeah," Stevie nods. "Too approachable."

"You don't think he's approachable?" Robin asks teasingly, and turns to give the boy another glance. She whips back around almost immediately. "Shit, he is looking this way."

The urge is stronger than her, so Stevie turns over her shoulder, meeting his eyes. He looks angry, and she can't tell for sure from the distance, but it seems like his nostrils are flaring, too. 

tags: @phantomcat94 @wheneverfeasible

FTH2025

[fixyourwritinghabits]

Any tips for picking back up in the middle of a revision without having to start over? I wrote a book in 2019 and started a major revision in 2021. I printed the book and tore it apart with notes and switching timeline events/chapters around. Now I look at all the notes that are good advice and I would like to apply this progress to the story, but it's so overwhelming and jumbled up 😵‍💫

I've also recently picked up a back-burnered project I've been dreading, only to realize the notes I wrote solved 99% of the problems I had. The only thing holding me back was me, and it sounds like you're in the same boat.

Draft A New Outline - Having a way to track what changes you need to make is helpful, like using an Excel sheet (I know, but it does work) or color-coding changes. This will help so much, especially if you need to track big changes.

Go Through and Highlight What You Like - You may have to throw out whole chapters, but there's reasons you don't want to. Note what you really like - a turn of phrase, a character moment - and see if you can fit it in elsewhere. Always keep that cut folder or document to dig through later.

Set Micro Goals (And Keep Them!) - It's easier to dive into a new draft than to revise an old one. Chunk your goals in easy to accomplish ways. Instead of tackling a whole chapter a day, tackle a scene or a page. Instead of revising 800 words a day, narrow it down to 500 or 300. I make a big chart with my revision goals on it, and you're damn right I slap a cute Daiso sticker next to each goal accomplished. It really helps.

Work Backwards, Revise Forwards - If you have an all new ending with bigger and better stakes, figuring out how to get your plot there may require stepping back, chapter by chapter, to see what subplots you should add or scenes that need to be moved around.

However - and this is just what works for me - working toward a revised draft means starting the rewriting/revising process from Chapter One. That way I don't accidentally cover the same ground twice, and catch when I need to start a subplot sooner or rework descriptions I've used more than once.

Move Past The First 50 Pages - Don't get stuck at the beginning! It's so tempting to revise the first act to perfection, but you might need two or three more drafts to get to the real end of your story, and that might mean tossing all that hard work out. Keep going, and if you find yourself getting caught into fixing Chapter 3 when you're not sure Chapter 30 works, make a note and move on. Finishing your second draft is just as important as finishing your first.

Good luck and keep going!

[brighteststar707]

I was digging through my drafts last night and found this drabble from sometime last year. It's a little reset theory idea I was playing around with that ended with me writing the 'Tell Me A Story' short. I was inspired at the time by both Hadestown (the cyclical nature of the tragedy) and the Howl's moving castle film (when Sophie meets Howl in the past and asks her to wait for him).

I'm not sure if I'll ever flesh out this idea entirely so I thought I'd release this (unedited!) instead of leaving it to gather dust in my folder.

You already know how it ends. You’ve walked down this road so many times before.

A few months ago, you held Saeyoung in your arms as he drifted off to sleep. Usually you’re the one to fall asleep first. He always teases you about it. Tonight, though, you want to be awake for as long as possible.

You gently caress his head and whisper against his skin “Wait for me.”

As you feel the darkness wrap around you, heavier than sleep, you wonder if he heard you. If, somewhere in his dreams, he hears your voice echoing. Wait for me.

What a cruel request. If only you were selfless enough to let him forget you.

But you’re not. Which is why, tonight, you find yourself out late at night, staring at your phone screen waiting for it to hit midnight. When you close your eyes, you can still see the lock screen image flashing at you. The numbers, stubbornly stuck at 11:58PM.

Tonight, it’s cold.  It’s been a while since you’ve experienced a winter here. Last time, you managed to spend a full year with him, August to August. Ironically, your least favourite time of year. Your memories are full of unforgiving heat. Nights where you pulled him outside with you, filled with a giddy childlike joy.

You have to work to keep the memories of each trip separate. To not let them bleed together. They all differ from each other slightly. The time of year, the persona you wore. The only thing that remained the same was the ending.

Finally, you feel your phone buzz with a message.

Unknown: …Hello…?

And finally, it begins. There’s always something magical about your first conversation with everyone.

You step into the apartment and resist the urge to look up at the security camera you know is pointed at you. Then, you turn around and give it a big smile and wave anyway. You imagine him watching you from his dark desk. Does he feel a small spark of recognition? Does he hear your voice, as if from a dream, begging him to wait for you?

You’re antsy. Desperate, even.

The first time he calls you, the air is electric. It’s like your whole being has been waiting to hear him again. You feel a warmth spreading through your fingertips.

You have to act startled, like a stranger. You shouldn’t make him suspicious.

Shouldn’t.

To pass the time, you let yourself imagine doing all the things you shouldn’t be doing.

In your dreams, you leave the apartment and go to his house. You’ve picked up enough Arabic to get past the security system (sometimes, in your more self-indulgent fantasies, it recognizes you and lets you in without a fuss; we’ve been waiting for you). All the lights are off, you find him sitting at his desk.

He turns around (he was expecting Vanderwood). You grab him by the shoulders and make him look at your face. You look into his eyes and will him to remember.

Sometimes he remembers. His expression softens into a smile and he holds you in his arms. He kisses every part of your face and tells you that he’s missed you.

In the more realistic fantasy, the Saeyoung you find is guarded. He is hostile and scared. He doesn’t know how to hope yet. You beg him to remember, recount memories of days together. tell him stories of two people so deeply in love that they’d cross time over and over again to be together. 

He doesn’t believe you, and you already feel your heart shatter.

“You’re telling me stories. Fairy tales.”

“They’re memories. Yours and mine.”

Then it stops.  

[wallbeatjournal]

10 non-canon riverdale concepts, fic ideas or AUs you can't stop thinking about?

OMG anon. i love this question, i love concepts i love riffing but i'm also overwhelmed by it. ten is soooo many!! lemme dig through my gdrive fanfic graveyard for a second...and lemme put this under a cut to save some eyes.

hirarchie plots in my drafts folder:

one of those "i didn't know where else to go..." hero turns up on villain's doorstep after a trauma fics, in which archie seeks out hiram bc he thinks he's more interested in revenge than like. medical assistance or emotional support.

continued vampire AU ft archie getting properly bitten, more veronica triangulation, more shame

s3 juvie arc AU in which hiram actually visits to be so so soooo soso so nasty and sick about it all

kind of a dreamy fairy tale AU where archie is an ex-mermaid with very sharp teeth (but he already traded his voice and fins away to a different witch who skipped town in her volkswagen beetle) and hiram is a warlock and veronica is in kind of a cinderella-rapunzel situation.

a sort of inception<>rivervale fusion in which rivervale is explicitly kind of built around archie's subconscious and he keeps trying and killing and dying over and over in an attempt to create a hiram-free world where his dad might come back. narrator jughead is there trying to pick up the pieces every time archie bails out. hiram might be becoming meta-aware, or it might just be that archie can't imagine him without every advantage

fic where there's a zombie apocalypse on, and hiram has zombie archie locked in the basement at pop's. (archie pov of course)

my long slow serial wip where s5 archie goes with hiram when he's exiled and kind of rehashes teen traumas but (he thinks) without any illusions about what he's doing. reggie is there now so all i do is think about toxic reggie-on-hirarchie dynamics now. it's going medium.

10 is a LONG list anon. i went deep into the abandoned projects file and i'm still short. so. brainstorming some other stuff i think about but haven't actually made any gestures at writing bc it's not ~my brand:

s7 archie/reggie fill-ins idk if this counts as non-canon because it's more of a "missing scenes" type thing, but i really want more s7 boys-supporting-boys soft romance archie/reggie fic filling in the emotional layers and plot gaps and what-next of archie working on the mantle farm, etc

s6 reggie/kevin(/percival) i've been thinking a lot about s6 reggie/kevin(/percival). troubling. troubling! anyway even outside of the dynamics of reggie wanting to rescue kevin from mind control, i keep thinking kevin would be fascinated with reggie's puppet conscience. i think he'd try to adopt it as his own or at least share, he needs one too. i think they could get intensely psychosexual or simply sexual about the whole situation.

sex pollen. traditional sex pollen. riverdale is from one angle a comics fandom, and you can't have a comics fandom without some writer doing the needful and launching fuck-or-die chemicals at some characters sometime. percival's reggie-on-archie stabbing aggression spell already kind of had that vibe, which is probably why i think it should be archie/reggie. but i would also accept kevin/archie with a slightly different tone, kevin/jughead with a VERY different tone, etc etc etc. (and betty/cheryl. idk why them, they're not even my main f4f ship. i just think they'd wear it well.)

[madrigaljail]

Thank you for the tag @teawizard! Sadly my drafts have not changed much since the last time this came around BUT I am going to do more thorough digging so:

rules: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. tag as many people as you have wips. people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!

And so here we go, every single one of them are Encanto:

SBYAK 7 Town Talk 6 (this is a lie it exists in theory) Flowering Paper Thin Walls Vittoria Daily Xalbador Abuelitas The Albert One Preconceptions EBL Changelings Piano In The Dark Important Haircut Hookup Nope.gif the vamp remix an aside the magic day

[burningdarkfire]

I'm not positive I've correctly tracked what has and hasn't been asked about already, but "CR SG free use"?

repeats are always just an opportunity to expound more! but yes, you have found some uncharted territory 😊

(ask me about my WIPs!)

this was an idea that @capitola tossed out that i then picked up and ran with: essek gifts caleb a book, and in return he gets free use of caleb while he's reading it

i finished a first draft of this fic ages ago, but as capi has gently confirmed, it is simply not very good in its current form and has thus been languishing in the folder until i can give it the time and energy it needs. here's a snippet that's at least halfway decent:

Caleb startled awake, his body jolting forward on instinct, some confused urgency of thought—

"It's alright," Essek said soothingly, shushing him. "It's just me, pet."

Sensations fell into place one at a time. The warmth of Essek's chest pressed against his back, his hand tucked securely around his stomach. The hard edge of the book digging into his shoulder—he must have fallen asleep while reading it. The creaking of the bed, the heavy weight of arousal between his legs, where his body had already reacted to Essek fucking his thighs, the steady slip and slide of his cock, hot and hard, between Caleb's legs. 

His thighs were already a mess and he was barely awake. He lifted a hand and then stopped, suddenly uncertain where to put it. Essek was panting, his breaths hot against Caleb's shoulder, and suddenly he grabbed at Caleb's hip and groaned.

[kiraziwrites]

yuletide: femslash edition!

Haven't been around here much lately but I'm poking my head back in for Yuletide yelling purposes! This year I both wrote and received F/F(/F) stories, which was a lovely experience and one I hope to repeat in future. Thank you again to @nerdsandthelike, who gifted me my beloved boat lesbians* from The Last Binding trilogy, Maud and Violet.

Dare (archive-locked, so you'll need to be logged into AO3 to read it) is a delightful missing scene set between the events of A Restless Truth and A Power Unbound, in which Maud and Robin make their first visit to Spinet House. The Maud POV is top-notch, and the fic works beautifully both as a bit of connective tissue showing the development of the partnership we see in action in the third book, and as a character study (particularly of Maud, but of Robin and Violet too, and while Edwin doesn't appear directly, he's there in Maud's recollections supplying some very Edwin insights into their relationship). And in one brief but consequential scene, it manages to evoke some of the thematic concerns of the trilogy, from the blurred lines between performance, illusion, and deception (particularly in Violet's case) to the motif of contracts as they relate to both magic and personal relationships. I loved it, and it's made me want to dig out the half-finished Maud/Violet draft in my WIPs folder and tackle it again—because we all need more boat lesbians in our lives.

*okay technically Violet is bisexual and neither of them are on the boat at this point, but still.

[drjackabbots]

man i loved [REDACTED 120K+ FIC FROM THAT ONE UNSPECIFIED FANDOM FROM 2017-2018] anyway, fic asks! 2, 41, 55, and 62 (for said redacted fic potentially) <3

YEAH I BET YOU DID <3

2. Where do you get your fic ideas?

i go into a fugue state and when i wake up i'm possessed with the insane desire to put it on paper also my wife and i brainstorm and roleplay stuff a LOT so usually she's the one that inspires me <3

41. Who’s your favorite character you’ve written?

oh god. that's a tough one. OBVIOUSLY james, you know this. i also really love writing adam from saw, hotch from criminal minds (he is SO fun to get into the mind of specifically) and data from star trek tng! there are more, but they're for future fic.

55. Have you noticed any patterns in your fics?  Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

i love themes... god i love themes so much. i love there to be a REASON for why i'm writing what i am, which is probably why i don't put out fic as much as i'd like because i literally am spending too much time doing way too much LMAO

62. In [SAID REDACTED FIC], is there a deleted scene/idea you wish you could have included?  Why did it get cut?

there was a whole subplot (that still managed to worm its way into the story itself, though not as much as i wanted to and i'm SURE you can guess who it is) that involved one character having an unrequited crush on the other. it evolved more into a father-son kind of relationship by the final draft, which i'm still happy with, but i think it could've done more with it. :/a it wasn't their story, though. i had to dig around in my old google doc folder for that jkldfsjlh

send me some fic asks!

[aurorawritesromance]

WHAT REMAINS UNSPOKEN [CH21]

ALL CHAPTERS HERE.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ EXIT STRATEGY // DALIA ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

The walls of the hotel room have started to pulse.

That’s the only word for it—pulse. The cheap beige flower wallpaper breathes, textured and uneven in the lamplight, as if it might exhale and collapse in on me at any second. I haven’t really slept in forty-three hours. Maybe forty-five. The numbers stopped mattering sometime yesterday when I poured cold coffee over my notes and didn’t even bother to clean it up. The stains are still there. Top corner of the commune supply grid, right through the name “Amberfield.”

I cross my legs on the floor. This isn’t a desk job anymore but an excavation. Case files spread like an autopsy, highlighters in colors I didn’t choose. There’s something obsessive in the symmetry I’ve created: post-it notes mapped edge to edge along the mirror, the floor, the windowsill. Pins in a corkboard I nicked from the office. Threads leading to the photo of Ruth. Jonas Vale. Raina.

I stopped using a chair a week ago. The bed’s untouched. I sleep on the floor, when I sleep at all but mostly I just sit. Think. Wait for something to click into place.

The burner phone buzzes against my thigh—no message, just the flicker of battery warning, dim and resentful. I press the power button and let it die.

With a sigh, I reach behind me, digging through the stack of legal folders until my fingers find an envelope. The divorce papers are inside—drafts. Still. I told the lawyer I’d approve them by the end of the week. That was four days ago.

I pull myself up, spine cracking, knees aching. My reflection in the mirror is a smear: hair twisted back in a half-knot, face drawn tight, lips cracked. My coffee-stained shirt’s wrinkled and I can’t even call it white anymore. My skin feels too dry, like it doesn’t fit anymore. I stare at myself until the blur sharpens into someone I recognize.

I pick up my phone to dial Markus’s attorney. I sigh of relief escapes me as it goes to voicemail. I leave the message short and professional. “Hi Pete, It’s Dalia Rowe. I’m ready to proceed. Please email me with the next steps.”

When I hang up, I stare at my phone wallpaper a beat too long. It used to be a family photo of Wren, Markus and me on a road trip, huddled up together laughing, trying to fit it in the picture. I don’t cry. The grief’s gotten quieter lately. Not smaller—just more skilled at hiding in the daylight.

Ten minutes later I’m in the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub as I fold my arms around my stomach. The ceramic’s cold beneath me and for a second, I pretend I’m underwater.

I let myself cry a single-thread leak. No sobs, only salt on my cheeks and no one here to see it. When it passes, I get up, wash my face with cold water. Towel off with something thin and dirty beige, stained with makeup. Back in the main room, I grab my phone again—there’s a message draft still open from last night.

Can’t. I think I’m being watched.

I stare at it. Then delete the whole thing. Again. It’s almost comforting now, the ritual of it. Drafting a message. Deleting it. The unsent things feel more honest than anything I’ve said out loud. It’s not fear that stops me, it’s the opposite. I want too much from this—to make her talk, to understand, to find the missing pieces.

My eyes drift to Elias’s name in my messages. He texted me last night—sent over a voice log Locke had pulled from the therapist’s office, Ruth’s final session.

I haven’t listened yet. Instead, I tap out a reply.

Thanks.

I don’t send it. I know where he was last night. It was the first thing Locke said to me this morning at the precinct, trying to rattle me. Bitch.

She did a good job at it as well, because I couldn’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the day. I’d watch like a hawk and listen to every minuscule word uttered between the two of them. I’m so delusional from the sleep deprivation I wonder whether I’ve just hallucinated the whole thing.

My throat tightens. I shouldn’t care as I have no claim. Elias isn’t mine, he’s my partner. He’s my last tether to this case, to reason. He’s kept me from falling off the edge more than once, and I owe him more than I’ve ever said aloud.

I kneel in front of the travel bag I keep stashed beneath the bed and unzip it. Inside are the items that don’t belong to the department: copies of files, private notes, USB drives. I sort through them, labeling them with a date and alias, then sliding them into a reinforced evidence pouch.

Then I pull out my resignation letter. Two copies. One for Everett, one for HR, both signed with my full name, my signature at the bottom taunting me with it’s cursive loops. I fold both into separate envelopes and tuck them away—I’ll deliver it tomorrow. I’ll also need to draft up an e-mail.

The final step of the day is digital. I sit at the edge of the bed and open my laptop, scrub the browser history. Clear cache, temp files, cookies. Then I reroute the motel Wi-Fi through a rotating IP mask I borrowed from Kelsi’s encrypted packet. I do this every single day out of routine. Nothing here will lead back to me once I’m gone.

The sun’s coming up behind the thin motel curtains. I watch the morning edge in through the cracks and for a moment I allow myself to think of Elias, how his golden messy curls remind me of the sunshine.

The laptop hums, open to the file marked AMBERFIELD-VALVE_SPLINTER3. I’ve memorized it by now—the logistics charts, vehicle types, quotes, everything cross-checked against shipping manifests and ghost companies. Raina’s last message is still sitting on the burner.

Tomorrow. 7pm. Same spot.

Soon, I’ll reply to Raina and no one will stop me.

I wonder if Elias would call me reckless.

I have swapped out the license plate on my car in the parking lot. It’s not legal but that doesn’t matter. If Locke’s digging, I want her finding dead ends. Let her focus on Elias, he’s better at playing nice anyway. I’m not built for pretending.

There’s a USB drive plugged into my laptop containing everything I know. Everything I’ve learned off-record, which isn’t much. Case notes. Backup evidence. Transcripts Locke never saw because Kelsi hates her just as much as me. Not entirely professional of the three of us to push Locke out, but if we played by her rules, we would never solve this case. And if I don’t come back, someone has to finish this. Even if it’s not the way I would’ve done it.

It will have to be Elias and Kelsi.

I stash my laptop into the travel bag and slide it under the bed. Not the best hiding place but it will do.

By the time I stand up again, the hotel room looks less like a living space and more like a bunker. One cup on the nightstand that’s been there the last four nights. I leave the burner phone next to it and go back to the caseboard. There’s a photo of Wren I keep at the top right corner—a random photo I took, blurred from motion. I caught it by accident one morning in the kitchen as she was reaching for a mug. Her hair still wet, sunlight dancing across her face. She didn’t know I was watching.

I touch the edge of the image with two fingers.

If they find this room after I’m gone, I want them to know I didn’t vanish. I went in with my eyes open. They’ll never understand what it takes to walk into the dark on purpose.

But I do and I’m ready.

I’m not letting those fuckers take one more victim.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

At some point, I must’ve moved from the desk to the bed, but I don’t remember how or when. The sheets are tangled around my legs, damp with sweat. Another nightmare my mind refuses to remember in order to spare me.

I glance at the clock on the wall. 9.51 am. I’m terribly late.

My laptop glows faintly from the corner of the room, the cursor blinking at the bottom of the drafted email to Everett, resignation attached. It’s not a grand exit. It’s just the only way I know to leave without someone taking the badge from my hand.

I shower like I’m scrubbing off evidence. Pull on a plain navy button-up, black slacks, the same blazer I’ve been wearing for the past week. It’s starting to smell like burnt coffee and gun oil. My badge clips on easily—too easily. It’s become muscle memory.

By the time I get to the precinct, the building’s already alive with phones ringing, voices layered over the low buzz of the old fluorescents. The familiar rhythm of controlled chaos. A world I’ve lived in for too long.

I’m going to miss this.

I move quickly, don’t stop at my desk. Elias isn’t there, which helps. Kelsi’s nowhere in sight. Locke’s probably in the briefing room with them. Good.

Everett’s door is open, so I knock once on the frame and step inside. He doesn’t look up right away, just gestures to come in. With a swift motion, I pull the door closed behind me and sit down in the chair in front of his desk. That’s how he knows something is wrong.

The resignation envelope slides from my fingers onto his desk. Everett looks at it for a long moment before touching it.

“A month?” he says, like the word tastes bad.

I nod once. “Yeah.”

“You’re technically required to give three,” he mutters, scratching his bald head in disbelief.

“And you’ve technically wanted me gone since September, so I figure we’re even.”

His jaw shifts—grinding down the urge to snap. He folds the letter along the center crease and sets it on the desk without looking at me. I stay still. I’ve learned that with Everett, silence moves faster than escalation. Let him stew. Let him realize I’m not giving him a fight.

“I don’t want the others to know,” I add.

“And what should I tell them when they notice you packing up the case files you don’t officially have access to?”

What he just said doesn’t even make sense, but there’s something charming about the Captain’s dramatic antics. Weirdly, I’m going to miss this too.

“I won’t cause you any problems,” I say.

Lies.

His eyes flick up. “I wanted accountability, Rowe.”

I keep my voice level. “Then you should’ve thought twice before bringing in someone who treats this place like spit on the ground.”

“Locke has delivered more procedural compliance in two weeks than you have all year.”

“She’s a blunt instrument,” I agree. “You handed her a scalpel job and told her to amputate.”

“And you think bleeding out slowly is a better outcome?”

No answer to that. Not one that keeps me from getting pulled off the case early, anyway. I shift my weight slightly, back still straight. My hands stay folded on my lap. He watches me the way he used to watch internal reviews—like he’s waiting to hear if something will explode.

“I’m staying until the notice ends,” I say firmly. “I’ll give you everything you need. But when the month is up, I’m gone.”

His eyes stay on me, measuring. Not sympathy—he doesn’t deal in that. Curiosity. Maybe even relief.

Everett exhales through his nose and waves a hand at me, neat and clinical. “Dismissed.”

I leave his office without another word.

Well, that went better than expected.

The envelope’s out of my hands now. It’s real. Permanent. The kind of clean cut that doesn’t bleed until you’re already miles away from the wound. And still, my fingers tremble.

I push into the breakroom and let the door close behind me. The space is empty. I press the heel of my palm against my sternum like it might calm the flutter. I need coffee.

It’s not fresh, but at least it’s hot. I pour a cup mostly to have something to hold and the ceramic mug warms my skin, anchoring me.

Out the window, a single car pulls into the parking lot outside. Elias’s. His silhouette in the driver’s seat still for a second too long before he turns off the engine. I wonder where he has been.

Did she touch you?

Did you let her?

Did you like it?

The questions grind their way into my spine and it makes me want to scream.

CHAPTER 22 >>

[crystalcupcake07]

Perfect Power Source

April 5 1990

12:13 pm

To Arthur Walton

There's an issue with power for the facility. Regular energy isn’t enough and is ineffective for toon production. It keeps shutting off at the most inconvenient of times. I’m afraid I can’t work productively if I have to work after hours so the power doesn't shut off during visiting hours.

Delilah Keen

—

April 5, 1990

1:20 pm

To Delilah Keen

I’ll look into alternatives, for now work after hours. So sorry you can’t work as many hours as you want, but maybe you take a break while we sort this out.

Arthur Walton

—

.

.

.

.

August 10, 1990

4:55 am

To Arthur Walton

I’ve found the answer to the power problem. You know the ichor I use to make the toons? While I was creating one of the Christmas toons when the power went off again. I accidentally dropped some ichor on the computer and it powered on. So I tested it with other technology. I’ve discovered that it can be used to power machines. 

Delilah Keen

—

August 10, 1990

10:45 am

To Delilah Keen

That’s wonderful news! I’m sorry that I couldn’t find a solution faster, but this sounds promising. Let’s talk about it more in person and see how we can add this to the building if possible.

Arthur Walton

—

.

.

.

.

October 14, 1990

The sterile halls Delilah walked through to her lab normally bring her excitement now bring dread. The work that Delilah put in has been more exhausting as she needs to create not only toons but the ichor itself. To power the facility and to create the toons. Making it hard to manage what to do first, both are really important to run the business and she has to decide which is more important. It is making Delilah infuriated as she wants to focus on the toons. But she can't say she regrets choosing ichor over other power sources as it can keep a steady flow of energy and can handle extreme amounts of stress. But it requires tons of it to power an entire museum with many many floors. Delilah needs to find a way to make more and she is coming up with nothing.

Slamming the pencil onto her desk, Delilah stood up and began to pace. Thoughts swirling in her mind trying to come up with a solution. It feels as if the solution is at her figure tips, but she can’t quite grasp it. Her pacing stops when Arthur enters her office.

“Hey Del.” Arthur said cheerfully with that dumb nickname he always greets her with. A warm smile on his face before quickly dropping. “Is everything alright?”

Ever caring Arthur is.

“No, just thinking.” Delilah answered back, keeping her face and voice neutral. She sees the playful smirk coloring his face.

“Well that’s pretty loud thinking don’t you think?” Arthur joked, they are always awful. He swung his arm around her shoulder as he said it to.

“Aren’t you here for something?” Delilah said unamused, she usually plays along but she is not in the mood. Lucky for her Arthur took the hint and went back to business, looking a little miffed.

“Right,” Arthur said before clearing his throat, getting into his business voice. Pulling folders underneath one of his arms she didn’t notice before. “I came to give you designs for the easter toon.” Arthur shuffled through some papers before pulling out a poster for an episode. She’s never seen it before. “I was asking around for opinions on the draft poster for the next episode.”

“Oh.” Delilah simply said, normally she would be ecstatic, but she was too tired. She reached for the poster to see two toons L - 001 and M - 005 or simply Dandy and Shelly. They seem to be digging in the desert. The title being Shelly’s dream come true. Very original Arthur. “Thanks, I’ll email about it later.”

“Alright.” Arthur said, putting the rest of the files on her desk, turning to leave, but he paused, staying just a moment, whispering something under his breath; she didn’t bother listening, before leaving. 

Delilah exhaled a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She can usually handle Arthur and his theatrics, but she is too exhausted dealing with the ichor situation to go along. But it does make her laugh when he does.

She sat back down with a huff looking at the files then the poster at hand. Looking directly at the toons, her thoughts spinning before inspiration hit. Delilah jumped from her desk quickly gathering the files and other blue prints scattering it across her desk. Quickly opened a new folder and began to write. 

Possible ways to extract ichor from toons

—

*

*

*

July 11, 20XX

Kitchen: Floor 20

*Ding*

The sound of the ichor extractor let Vee know that she is done. As she moved the grunts and gurgles of twisteds as they chased Poppy around. Or she assumes is chasing as Poppy is supposed to be a distractor this round, but you never know if the others are getting chased by a stray twisted. Whatever, as long as they are safe it doesn't matter who is being chased. Most of them are fast enough to not get caught. Except maybe Roger. Hopefully-

She quickly cut that thought short. No need to be distracted.

Vee wondered for a bit before spotting a research capsule, quickly checked if the cost was clear, and booked it. Nabbing the thing before looking for more of these things. Not exactly enjoying doing research runs but it was needed. As Roger claims it can help understand twisteds and their patterns. Vee calls crap! Roger just wants to study them, but nobody seems to be exactly against it. Sprout being weirdly supportive of this while also begging them to be safe. Ok, hypocrite.

She collects five more before finding herself in a weird office. Vee has never seen this room before. For one it has many, many blueprints that are scattered across the room. There is ichor on the left wall and floor, looking like something or…some toon was thrown there. And on the lone desk was a thick folder with a tape on top of it.

“What is this?” Vee asked curiously, setting aside the tape and looking at the title of the folder. 

*

File # 10

Project: Perfect Power Source 

*

“Perfect Power Source?” Vee mumbled under her breath. Curious, she opened the folder to see what it was about.

*

Discovery

I have discovered that the solution I gave to each toon has a different effect. Depending on how long a toon existed. The older the toon the more ichor leeks out. As L-001, M-001, M-002, M-003, M-004 and M-005 seem to react strongly to it. As they were leaking out of their eyes and mouth. Witch is a bit of a problem as I was hoping that I use one of the ordinary toons, but it can’t be helped. Nobody wants one of their favorite mains gone.

And Arthur would question me.

Might have to create something to carefully extract from them. Will record the reactions and findings to see what else to add to these findings.

*

Vee didn’t read any further than the first page. Not feeling very comfortable after reading that she and some of the main toons were tested on. She doesn’t remember any tests or ichor coming out of her like that. There were many alarm bells going off as she looked around the room. More specifically looking directly at the ichor splatter. Possibilities of what happened in this room and who was the victim. Vee then glared at the tape, this has Dandy written all over it.

BAM

Jumping at the sudden opening of the door. Vee tensely but quickly grabbed the tape for an escape, but saw a glow and knew exactly who it was. Anger replaced the fear she had a few seconds ago. “Brightney! What the heck!”

The lamp jumped at her shouting before quickly apologizing. “I’m so sorry Vee. I was just trying to hide and-” Brightney paused looking around. “What is this place?”

“I-” Vee began but stopped. Not really sure what this place is or its exact purpose, but she has a few theories. “Not exactly sure, but it looks to be uh, secret room? Office? Full of blueprints of-” Vee took a good look at one of the blueprints. There are plans for a machine called Version 10: ichor extractor. “...Extractors.” 

Brightney raised a brow at her answer. That being one of Vee's least descriptive answers she ever gave.

“Listen, I just discovered this room too.” Vee said defensively. “And it isn't anything I've seen before on this floor.”

“Ok?” Brightney replied, focusing on the blue prints around. “Should we take some of these?”

Vee took a moment to think. They do look important and can tell them more about the extractors. “Sure.”

Vee and Brightney quickly but carefully collected the blue prints into their bags. Trying to fit as many as possible before their bags overflow. Once everything was secure they walked out agreeing they should head towards the elevator, but they heard heavy footsteps running towards them, lights flickering out. Without thinking Brightney grabbed Vee's hand and ran. 

RUN

With racing hearts they try to run quickly to the elevator. Hoping it's open when they get there. The heavy footsteps got closer making their hearts beat louder as Brightney took a sharp turn to the kitchen. Hiding underneath the table as they heard the footsteps run past the kitchen. They panted heavily trying to catch their breaths as they turned to look at each other. 

“What was that!?” Brightney whispered. They had never heard a twisted run that fast and be so quiet. “That wasn't Twisted Pebble right?”

“No.” Vee said, stunned. “My scans said there aren’t any Mains on this floor.”

They remained quiet for a moment, staying under the table before they heard the elevator open. That got them to snap out of it and quickly run to the elevator. Where they saw Poppy and Roger are waiting. Roger prepared to press the button while Poppy held out her hand to grab them. When they were half way with 20 seconds left they saw the lights flickering and heard a familiar pair of heavy foot steps.

Vee and Brightney ran faster while Poppy and Roger began to panic. The twisted got closer and closer as Brightney made it in panting. Vee was at the entrance when she heard a scratch.

DUCK

She felt pain as something hit her back as she made it in the elevator. The elevator door closed behind Vee as everyone heard the twisted behind the door scream.

“G!V# !T B@CK!”

-----------

Next: https://www.tumblr.com/crystalcupcake07/784851471442280448/july-11-20xx-location-elevator-poppy-checked?source=share

[liskantope]

I saved this in my drafts folder when I first saw it (then hit one of my little Tumblr Slumps and am only getting around to reblogging now) because the content of the OP intersects with multiple of my pet issues that come up on this blog. I think I disagree with this on quite a fundamental level from more than one angle. I'm not sure, especially just coming out of said Tumblr Slump, how far I can dig into my objections here, but I will say that a lot of it has to do with the phrase "fundamentally traumatizing": if this were replaced by "fundamentally abusive" for instance (which, in the context of the nearby discourse at the time, would be a logical choice) I would be at least 50% on the same page, if not roughly in agreement, with the OP. But, "traumatizing" refers directly to the effect on the recipient of some treatment (as opposed to "abusive" describing the treatment itself, regardless of how the recipient reacts to it), so it seems outright contradictory to say "such-and-such situation is inherently traumatizing even though most people in it turn out fine". (That is, unless we take an extremely loose definition of trauma as "leaving a permanent mark on someone" which, how could one possibly conceive of a mode of parenting or education that doesn't leave permanent marks in one way or another?)

The rest of my disagreement has to do with my conception of how humans' fragility or ability to cope with different types of difficult environments and situations isn't nearly as fixed as it seems to be implicitly assumed underneath the flavor of argument I see in the OP, and that in particular the capacity to be traumatized by certain things is probably extremely malleable under cultural framing/discourse: for instance, as we continue to make moral progress as a society, we will view more and more aspects of traditional parenting and schooling as messed up, but along with our collective awareness of this will come a greater capacity to be traumatized, develop issues in general, and (rightly or wrongly) blame those issues on parenting and school. And if indeed we're becoming more easily traumatized as society's treatment of children becomes softer (as it certainly already has -- both parenting practices and school were a lot more harsh, say, a century ago!), it's wrong to say that these practices at a certain time are such-and-such degree of "inherently traumatizing". Rather, it seems that the exact same treatment may be evaluated as more or less traumatizing in different times/places/cultures.

As a slightly tangential final note, I think discussions on here tend to get tinted by the fact that Tumblr is a place where most people did not turn out okay and have a tendency to blame their parents and what they were subjected to by the basic nature of school (depending on the individual circumstances, the placement of this blame may be more justified or less justified, although if someone makes a connection between their own issues and stuff they were subjected to by their parents / school there is at least some truth in blaming them). I suspect in general (absolutely not pointing a finger at the OP in particular, who I barely know at all) that this plays a role in finding assertions like "school / being typically parented can be fundamentally traumatizing even though most people turn out okay from it" attractive: it comes across to me as essentially "I can acknowledge that most people turned out better off than me from this bad circumstance but they don't count in evaluating the degree of its badness".

i think when people say something like "well, our current societal standard method of parenting can't be fundamentally traumatizing when most people turn out okay" or indeed say much the same about any basic aspect of our society (school/work/the medical system/etc is so normal and commonplace, it can't be traumatic, everyone turns out basically fine) they might perhaps be wise to remember that for the vast majority of human history every second child died and every fourth child died in infancy and while nowadays we would recognize any parent losing a child, let alone multiple, as something horrifically traumatizing it was also the norm for literally thousands and thousands of years of human history

[charcarts]

woe, plague be upon ye

[cornedbeefhashtags]

No bro, I swear this is just a regular hot tub, not the romance hot tub introduced to the Sims series in The Sims: Hot Date (2001). I don’t know why it’s shaped like a heart. Please bro.

[rainbowsky]

Hi R 🌈

I recently discovered an crazy theory about GGDD dating during DD days with uniq which completely blown my mind to be honest. Is there any CPN's behind this rumor or is it just an another fanfiction. As much as I'm convinced that BJYXSZD GGDD dating during Dad's idol days kind look far fetched to me.

Have a nice day rain ლ(・﹏・ლ)

Hi Anon!

Ah, you've stumbled across The Devil's Timeline, an interesting and often controversial theory that's been a part of the fandom for a very long time...

Fake, fan fiction, CPN.

Before I Start

There are some really aggressive people who always respond to these types of discussions in a hateful way, because of the implications of GG dating a younger DD (for example, in 2016 DD would have been 18-19 and GG would have been 24-25). It's called 'The Devil's Timeline' for a reason. If you don't like it, DON'T READ. It's really that simple.

And frankly, if you think it's crazy, outrageous and wrong for an 18 year old to be dating a 24 year old, you're not living in the real world. This is not an unusual age gap, especially between men.

Ultimately this is clowning and CPN. Not meant to be taken seriously.

Any adversarial anons will be blocked.

So What's the Theory?

Basically the theory is that GG and DD have been together for a lot longer than the generally accepted fan canon (fan canon tends to revolve around the idea that they got together during or shortly after filming The Untamed).

The Devil's Timeline doesn't have any specific set dates/times. It encompasses any timeline where GG and DD started dating prior to filming. Some people feel they might have met and started dating as far back as mid-2015, others think it happened between the 2017 DDU episode and CQL filming. So a timeline such as the one I wrote a couple of years ago would fall under The Devil's Timeline just as much as ones that claim they got together in 2015.

What's the Evidence?

As far-fetched as it might seem, there are some 'coincidences' and signs that point to the possibility that GG and DD might have met a lot earlier than the widely accepted '2017 DDU episode' meeting. There have also been fake rumors and whispers about them being together a lot longer than they claim.

For a bit of background on this theory - @accio-victuuri wrote a post detailing some of the clues, and there's also a post from @p-h03n1-x talking about some interesting posts on DD's birthday in 2016.

I know I've seen other tidbits here and there over the years, and in a perfect world I'd dig for it all and put together my own comprehensive post on this, but my drafts folder just can't take another big project.

If you look at their behavior toward each other at the booting ceremony, prior to filming, and then you look at the table read and early filming, they went from 'complete and total strangers' to being very familiar with each other almost overnight. While their natural compatibility and unique rapport make it believable that they'd be quickly very comfortable with one another, that's just a bit too quick even with compatibility as extreme as theirs.

Another thing that keeps me going back to this theory again and again is their behavior both in the 2017 DDU episode and at the booting ceremony for The Untamed. Now that I'm familiar with them and how they act in various situations, their demeanour in both situations seems a bit 👀 to me. Unnatural for them.

What it reminds me a lot of - particularly the booting ceremony behavior - is their behavior during Weibo night, when they appeared to be consciously avoiding interacting with each other (you can read about why here). That tension and overcompensating 'I'm not looking over there' kind of attitude.

In most situations where 'strangers' are put into proximity with one another - even 'acquaintances' who are not deeply connected with one another - there is some amount of totally normal, totally natural human curiosity. The other person is treated as a presence in the room that would naturally draw the eye from time to time.

Not so with GG and DD during the booting ceremony. They were an artificial amount of 'detached' from one another. Standing right next to each other and not even exchanging polite words. Even when they're both struggling with the red silk, they don't exchange any words or glances.

It comes across to me as very odd behavior, especially from them. They're both SO POLITE around others, especially someone they're going to be working closely with. Their normal, natural response in a situation like that would be to look at the other person, reassure and assist them. Not here. They act like the other person isn't even standing there. Not normal behavior IMHO.

And compare that with Weibo Night. Their behavior has the same flavor, at least it does to me.

CQL booting ceremony vs Weibo night: same energy.

Here's a video of the entire Weibo Night event. You can browse through to see how they were behaving toward each other. One example is at 1:41:30 when they go onstage to receive an award. There are also a lot of fancams from that night, you can browse around YouTube if you're curious.

During the DDU episode it's a lot harder to determine their demeanour toward each other because there's so much going on, so many other people around and the camera angles keep shifting, but there were a couple of things that caught my eye.

For one, notice at 27:00 when they're tiptoeing over the bamboo canes, when Wu Jiacheng crosses the canes he immediately steps back to the XNINE corner, while when GG crosses moments later, he naturally gravitates over to where DD is standing. 🤔

It's an automatic thing. Most people will gravitate to where they feel most comfortable in a room, just like when returning to the main area of a busy party after using the bathroom most people will head over to where their close friends or partner/spouse are standing. So in this case it's interesting that GG seems unconsciously more comfortable on DD's side of the stage than with his bandmates, even though standing over by DD means standing with the hosts of the show, which most people would feel incredibly uncomfortable doing.

Then at 32:00, when they're discussing the calligraphy tablets, GG and DD are standing next to each other in several shots. Maybe it's confirmation bias on my part, but they do not look like strangers in those shots. I can't point to any particular reason why.

And please take a moment at 4:52 to admire the adorkable way GG is frolicking while the rest of the boys are running. 🥹

Do I Believe It?

Although I go back and forth between popular canon theory (they got together during filming) and some form of The Devil's Timeline, in reality most of the time I see them as having been together long before filming. To me it's the best explanation for some of the inconsistencies we've seen, some of the behavior we've seen, etc.

You can check out my (very old, outdated) timeline post here. I make it pretty clear there that I think that they were together or at least well-acquainted with each other before filming. But given some of the BTS we've seen (and their married level of familiarity), I think it's possible or maybe even likely that they were together even earlier than what I claimed in that post.

How early? Maybe 2016. The DD's birthday posts are pretty interesting. A 20:23 kadian thanking for receiving some presents, on his birthday? 👀

And I do think the theory that they met 6/22 at a Uniq fanmeet* is an interesting one. Let's face it - 6/22 means something special to them. We know it. Could it be the day they met? It would fit.

*The rumor is that GG went to a fan meet in Guangzhou because he wanted to learn more about idols before going on XFIRE. That would have been in 2015, a couple months before XFIRE started, but I have not personally seen confirmation that such a fan meet happened on that day in that location (or that GG attended).

At the very least I think they were well-aquainted/dating between the 2017 DDU episode and CQL filming.

But I try not to restrict myself to any one particular theory. Ultimately we don't know, so why not explore different possibilities? I think it's interesting to view elements of their history through multiple different lenses, and see how those perspectives impact interpretation. I did this with my Japan trip post a while back. Since we'll probably never know for sure how or when it all started for them, why limit ourselves?

[possibilistfanfiction]

I'm already laughing at any social media posts ava and bea might have, the internet woso gays would go so wild for them

[little ch4 preview]

//

you’re at dinner, sitting by yourself because you’d gotten there a little late. you don’t mind it: you like the quiet, and you’re reading a new series of essays in german you’d been waiting to dig into since ava gave it to you a week ago, when your phone dings.

instagram: avasilva has tagged you in a post.

you take a deep breath — shaky, and so sure — and then click on the notification. it’s a carousel of pictures of your time in the alps: the field in early morning light; the view of the lake from your deck, the mountains glittering double in the distance; a pile of pastries ava had come home with one morning; ava with her favorite regulars at the bar you’d dance at. the seventh picture is of the two of you laughing, a ball between you, your foot up on it and your hands on your hips, ava in a sports bra and your shirt faithfully tucked in. hans had taken it, one day, just before ava had convinced him to turn the sprinklers on so you could run through them after you’d finished training, barefoot and free. it doesn’t mean anything, really, if you weren’t paying attention, but you had shared your home with her. you’re looking at her like you’ve never wanted anything else in the world: ava silva and football and the hazy summer sun.

avasilva had the best off-season convincing @beatricexin to take a break from running around with a ball & instead try every croissant in the alps 💅 i can’t wait to play for everyone soon, lfg!!

it’s funny, and endearing, and you did in fact eat a lot of croissants. you like the photo and ava sends you a text with a string of emojis that are mostly hearts and smiley faces, a random planet and dog thrown in, and a few mountains. 

i love you too, you text back. in bed that night, you think of how ava’s unabashed joy had turned your life on its head: you want and want and want, now, without remorse, something other than football. something bigger than football. 

bea <3 <3 <3 (9:06 pm)

Hello, is it okay if I post something? I can send you a draft.

Ava (9:08 pm)

yeah!!!!!!!!! of course :) as long as it’s not a nude do your thing ;) those stay between us

you roll your eyes but don’t let your hidden folder of nudes ava does enjoy sending you distract you from the soft pictures you’d taken of her one night, as the sun was setting. she’s wearing a hoodie — one of your hoodies — and shorts, her cap on backwards, barefoot, doing silly tricks in the small patch of grass behind your lakehouse next to the deck. you had asked her how, after all the complaining she did during training, she still wanted to be playing football right now, and she had laughed and flicked the ball over her head, then trapped it deftly. ’training is football,’ she’d said, ‘but this is fun. the beautiful game, bea. don’t forget.’

you pick your favorite: ava smiling at her own trick, standing still with the ball balanced on her foot, the hydrangeas around the same purple as the dusky sky. your instagram really is only pictures of you playing or sponsored content, most of which zuri posts herself or sends you copy for. there’s the occasional picture with your teammates after you’ve won something, but — your life has expanded far beyond your carefully pressed kits and the six foam rollers in your home gym, the stack of tupperware in your fridge. 

beatricexin Jogo bonito @avasilva

ava calls you laughing, delighted, and then tells you all about her day; you turn off all of your instagram notifications and fall asleep to the sound of her voice.