#i queue posts about time loops

[composeregg]

You're going in my processing vortex ^_^

the timeloop remains eternal

the thing about time loop jokes is, sure, they may be repetitive, but they never get old

[scarrunner05]

Honestly if like. Isafrin or isilloop or any of them had kids in any way one day. Loop would be the shovel talk parent and they would throw a mug at whoever the kid brought home.

Not even necessarily like. Because they’d be strict I just don’t think anyone else (besides odile) would do that and they’d decide someone had to at the very least.

It’s just. It’s set in my mind loop would give the most intimidating shovel talk ever to some poor kid. Imagine talking to your partners parents and everyone’s really nice to you and it’s scary cause they’re the saviors but otherwise okay and then this fucking creature pulls you aside and threatens to hunt you down if you fuck up even slightly (or kiss in front of them cause loop voice. Ew). That’s terrifying.

[runefactorynonsense]

okay, but i need to know how the rf1 and frontier divide works with the time loop theory

Honesty here; my thoughts on the Time Loop usually go from rf1 -> rf2, especially with various headcanons of mine that I would be using [Prime example being this blog supports a 'rf2 Kyle is the son of rf1's Lynette', which makes a 'bad ending' Sechs victory in 1 suddenly open up with a million game 2 possibilities- Antagonist Kyle!]

HOWEVER.

Given how there are a couple different thought paths with 1, Frontier, and the rest of the universe, the Time Loop setup I've made could be super fun? For example;

"Rune Factory ends, Raguna unmarried, and we roll right into Frontier." This seems to be what I think is implied!

"Rune Factory ends, something happens and forces Frontier to happen." My personal choice is to see it this way; the move was not voluntary.

"RF1 and Frontier are the same characters but separate." I've toyed with this before, with how the game barely touches on old things, with how we have to re-meet Mist, Rosetta, Lara, etc- and, well. Given that it's a GAME, made by a company, for a then-new console, it makes sense that the scene is standalone. Which means, one can consider it the story, and rf1 a different starting story.

I could see that Time Loop setup causing all 3 of those to be true, in different versions. 1, we chase Raguna right into Trampoli; 2, we have a brand new Anime Dead Wife opportunity; 3, we keep him out of Kardia altogether, what happens then?

Now that you HAVE me thinking as I type, though...

Given how Frontier, rf3 and rf4 talk so much about the depleting rune energy in the entire damn world, how you are punished so heavily for ignoring that balance in Frontier if you ignore the Runeys.... I think it could be very fun to imagine that Frontier events have to happen.

Stopping the extra depletion of rune energy could give extra time for Aquaticus to work on his area's problem, and also buy Venti a few more years to live as the 4 events are put into place..

Which also leaves some wonderful open doors for "Raguna had to live on the run" theories I've seen (esp from friends of mine) that come from the Ethelberd violence that ramps up between 1 and 4. Earthmates being hunted down and whatnot. Raguna was already chased from Kardia, and Trampoli isn't exactly a fort of safety, especially when Empire eyes have already discovered it... A super tiny town he'd rather have be safe...

So. Maybe Frontier has to be a "Fixed Point" in the universe (NOTE; I don't watch Doctor Who, but I've always recalled that term as it is so useful). We need it to happen. And maybe that means accidentally erasing family happiness from 1 in order to for sure chase the boy into Frontier!

All this being fun speculation, of course, and thank you for the chance to think about it!! As I genuinely had not factored in that game into my thinking!!

[harrysfolklore]

I DESPERATELY NEED THEM PIASTRI FICS 💳💳💥

FIRST OSCAR FIC 🥺 i know this concept has been done before but i loved how this one turned out and i hope you do too ! lmk your thoughts

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

liked by madisonbeer, oscarpiastri and 2,574,339 others

yourinstagram GUTS has been out for a week !! what’s yalls favorite song? 🤧

view all 15,965 comments

ynfan1 DONT MAKE ME CHOOSE

mtv definitely get him back!

ynfan2 choosing a favorite guts song is like choosing a favorite child

dualipa STUNNING ANGEL 🤩

oscarfan1 can oscar reply to this i want to know his favorite song

↳ oscarfan2 wbk he has this album on repeat

chappelroan lacy oh lacy 😩

oscarpiastri Love is embarrassing or logical

↳ oscarfan1 THERE YOU HAVE IT

↳ oscarfan2 whatever you do don’t picture oscar singing love is embarrassing like a teenage girl

↳ ynfan1 crying bc i bet yn has no idea of who he is

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 287,689 others

oscarpiastri F1 race winner has a nice ring to it 🧡

view all 7,773 comments

oscarfan1 FINALLYYY MY WINNER

landonorris Congrats mate ! Deserve it 👊

↳ oscarfan2 LOMLS

mclaren YES, YES IT DOES! 👏 So good today, Oscar. 🧡

longansargeant So proud of you mate 🙌

oscarfan3 do you think his crush will acknowledge his existence now that he’s a winner?

↳ oscarfan1 wait who’s his crush im out of the loop

↳ oscarfan3 singer and actress yn lol

↳ ynfan1 i love this lore so much

//

liked by oscarpiastri, arianagrande and 2,740,727 others

yourinstagram tickets for the GUTS tour are on sale now who’s cominggggg🥶

view all 16,725 comments

ynfan1 LETS GOOO

chappelroan i can’t wait for thissss💜

ynfan2 tour of the decade already

mtv pop princess is coming

oscarfan1 do you think oscar woke up for the fan pre sale and got into the queue and all

↳ oscarfan2 you BET

oscarpiastri Count me in ♥︎ by author

↳ oscarfan1 HEEEEELP

↳ ynfan1 yn liked his comment 😭

↳ oscarfan2 somebody check on oscar please

//

liked by yourinstagram, landonorris and 288,293 others

oscarpiastri Days off 🌊

view all 7,238 comments

oscarfan1 this is the hottest man alive

mclaren 🙌

oscarfan2 not him posting this right after yn followed him 😭 we know what you’re doing sir

ynfan1 yn likeddd

↳ ynfan2 i love how both fandoms are rooting for them now

landonorris Looks dope 👊

yourinstagram niiiiceeee 😃

↳ ynfan1 HELLO????

↳ oscarfan1 now he’s for real going to pass out

↳ oscarfan2 i bet he’s staring at his phone wondering if this is real or if she was hacked

↳ ynfan2 i know this woman SHES FLIRTING

↳ ynfan3 come on girl give him a chance

four months later

//

liked by ynfan1, oscarfan1 and 17,397 others

f1gossip Oscar Piastri with singer and actress YN in Los Angeles today 👀

view all 3,028 comments

oscarfan1 OMFG

oscarfan2 no way…

ynfan1 YALL, HE GOT IT

oscarfan3 i cannot believe my eyes, oscar has been simping over her on the internet since 2020 and how we have THIS

ynfan2 i really need to know how did this happen

oscarfan4 okay but THEIR SMILES !!!!

ynfan3 finally a guy who’s not a loser and/or an old ass

liked by oscarpiastri, sabrinacarpenter and 2,836,473 others

yourinstagram pastry boy clearly didn’t wait until i finished sneezing to take this picture 🤧

view all 17,826 comments

ynfan1 IS SHE TALKING ABOUT OSCAR??

oscarfan1 PASTRY BOY AS IN OSCAR PIASTRI ?

conangray love me a soft launch 🧐

↳ ynfan1 OMFGGGGGG

ynfan2 i can’t believe she’s potentially dating someone her age and with a job FINALLY

oscarfan2 oscar is proof that persistence is key and manifestation works

landonorris Typical pastry fashion

↳ yourinstagram idk how you deal with him all the time

↳ oscarfan1 ALSJAO THIS IS TOO MUCH

↳ oscarfan2 i need her to befriend the entire grid ASAP

oscarpiastri But it made it to your Instagram, so you’re welcome

↳ yourinstagram well thank you you’re very humble

↳ oscarpiastri Anytime 🤍

↳ oscarfan1 I’VE DIED DEAD

↳ ynfan1 stop flirting in front of us HELLO?

after the date

//

liked by oscarpiastri, chappelroan and 2,027,933 others

yourinstagram the GUTS tour takes tokyo today !!! this is going to be one of the most special shows ever 🥺

view all 25,736 comments

ynfan1 AHHHH

ynfan2 huuuhh is she planning something ??

conangray that’s my best friend 😍

oscarfan1 oscar dating a popstar is the best thing ever look at herrr

landonorris Can’t wait 🙌🏻

↳ landofan1 HUHHH?

↳ oscarfan1 is he going ?? WITH OSCAR ??

sabrinacarpenter 💗💗💗

oscarpiastri Please sing deja vu tonight

↳ yourinstagram you got it

↳ oscarfan1 AH I CANT BELIEVE WE MIGHT HAVE OSCAR (AND LANDO??) ATTENDING HER SHOW

//

liked by landonorris, yourinstagram and 538,299 others

oscarpiastri I had the best time ever in Tokyo 🙌🏻

view all 8,626 comments

oscarfan1 BABYYY

oscarfan2 i love him so bad

mclaren 🧡

ynfan1 oh we know why he had the best time

logansargeant Little boy in love

↳ oscarfan1 HWEEELP ME

landonorris Why are you posing like a five year old?

↳ landofan1 HEEEEEELP ME

↳ oscarfan1 i love them bad

↳ yourinstagram I SAID THE SAME THING !!

↳ ynfan1 man i love this

yourinstagram no picture credits ? really ?

↳ ynfan2 AHHH

↳ oscarpiastri 📸 credits to Miss America

↳ oscarfan3 WHY AM I CRYING

liked by oscarpiastri, madisonbeer and 2,197,499 others

yourinstagram night version. 📸 by vroom vroom guy

view all 17,836 comments

ynfan1 OMFG???

oscarfan1 VROOM VROOM GUY?

mtv 🏎️ & 🎤 together was the best thing that happened to us

ynfan2 it’s actually so refreshing to see her dating someone her age who she can have fun with and not some pretentious old ass man who mansplains her

landonorris My children 🫶🏻

↳ landofan1 lando is the biggest shooter for this relationship

oscarfan2 oscar really bagged his biggest crush by being on her comments all the time that’s persistence

alexandrasaintmleux Belleeee 💕

↳ yourinstagram aleeeex i loved hanging out with you let's go out without the boys soon

↳ charlesfan1 LET ME IIIINNN

ynfan3 and when yn writes a song for him

logansargeant I can’t wait to meet you!

↳ yourinstagram pastry is sooo wrong for not introducing us yet

↳ oscarfan1 oscar wdym you haven’t introduced your gf to your best friend

oscarpiastri 😍

↳ oscarfan1 OSCCCC

↳ ynfan1 he’s down bad i get him

//

liked by oscarfan1, ynfan1 and 18,826 others

ynupdates YN and Oscar out and about tonight !

view all 3,022 comments

ynfan1 OH LOOOORD

oscarfan1 I CANTTT

ynfan2 i can’t stress how good it is that she’s dating someone her age enough

oscarfan2 KING OF MANIFESTATION

ynfan3 i mean we already knew they were together but seeing them with all this pda is so cuuuuute

oscarfan3 IM SO JEALOUS

liked by oscarpiastri, troyesivan and 2,965,278 others

yourinstagram 5 new tunes for ya !!!! GUTS (spilled) out friday!!!

view all 25,926 comments

ynfan1 WTFFF I DIDNT SEE THIS COMING

ynfan2 CLAIMING SO AMERICAN

dualipa YEEES ❤️‍🔥

oscarfan1 i’m pretty sure there’s an oscar song there i just KNOW IT

ynfan3 more angsty breakup songs IM READY

landonorris 🙌🙌🙌🙌

oscarfan2 ready for oscar to annoy lando with those on repeat

mclaren We can’t wait to hear all of them 🧡

↳ oscarfan1 MCLAREN INTERN ARE YOU OKAY?

↳ ynfan1 she’s the people’s princess

oscarpiastri I can confirm those songs are amazing

↳ ynfan1 he already heard them IM SO JEALOUS

↳ oscarfan2 spill the tea are any of those about you

//

liked by yourinstagram, charles_leclerc and 869,044 others

oscarpiastri I laugh at all her jokes and I say she’s so American. So I might just be in lo-lo-lo-love 🧡

view all 9,725 comments

oscarfan1 LAJSIAHAUAB

oscarfan2 I 😭 CANT 😭 BELIEVE 😭 THIS

ynfan1 she’s wearing a friendship bracelet for him MY HEART

charles_leclerc I’m happy for you, son ❤️

↳ charlesfan1 CHARRRR

ynfan2 this is so cute i can’t also when did that sneaky shit go to his race

ynfan3 YN LOVER ERA YN SIMP ERA YN WAG ERA

oscarfan3 long story short: never give up on your celebrity crush

logansargeant ❤️❤️

landonorris Young love, so adorable

ynfan4 THE LYRICS REFERENCE

francisca.cgomes 🥺🥺🥺

↳ ynfan1 she’s already so loved by the wags

yourinstagram love youuuu, pastry 🤧

↳ ynfan2 i love all the nicknames he uses for him

↳ oscarfan1 pastry, vroom vroom boy. she’s just so romantic

[purplereina11]

In a match where the scoreboard tells only half the story, a fierce on-pitch rivalry between you and football royalty, Alexia Putellas, evolves into something electric — something unspoken, but deeply felt. Between the lines two players lock eyes, trade touches, and blur the line between competition and connection. What begins as a game becomes a gravity neither can resist.

Part 3: 36 hours in Munich Other Parts

Word Count: 8k

⚽️

You’re in the locker room, post-session. Freshly changed but, pulse still settling, water bottle half-drunk and rolling somewhere near your bench. Everyone’s moving slow — stretches, recovery gear, shower queues. Typical post-training lull.

But you’re pacing already packing away, quicker than normal, you normally linger for longer. You sit finally. Jacket half-zipped. Legs twitchy, breath short, heart doing sprints while your teammates are winding down.

You check your phone for the sixth time in two minutes. Still nothing. Still soon.

“Alright,” a voice cuts through behind you. “Who is it?”

You look toward the voice. Georgia. Leaning against the wall, towel over her shoulder, one brow cocked. You blink. “What?”

“You’re all… shifty.” She waves a vague circle around you. “Nicely-dressed, hair down. You keep checking your phone like it's gonna grow lips.”

You try to brush it off. “It’s nothing.”

Georgia doesn’t even flinch. “Liar. Spill it.”

You stare at her for a second. You weren’t going to tell anyone. But something about her tone — casual but not cruel — makes your chest loosen. And you need to say it out loud. Just once.

You sigh, grab your other boot, and sit. “She’s flying in.”

Georgia pauses. “She?” You assumed Beth would of blabbed by now.

You swallow. “Alexia.”

That name lands like a stone in a calm pool. Georgia blinks once. “Putellas?”

“Yeah.”

She’s staring now. Like full-body-turn, jaw-slightly-dropped, towel-falling-off-the-shoulder staring. “For… ?” she tries.

You sigh a hand going through your freshly washed hair. “For a day.”

Her mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens again. “As in…”

You shrug, but you can’t help the way your face warms. “Yeah. As in that. She followed me after the home game against Barca, after the away game, that's when she first started DM'ing me" You smile at Georgia's mouth hanging open.

"Saying what?"

"Football stuff mainly, about the games, but after the last game at Wembley, she asked if she could come here to see me. I said yes.”

Georgia whistles low. “Bloody hell. You’re actually—” she stops herself. “Wait. Are you nervous?”

You nod, fast and helpless. “I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”

She laughs, loud and bright. “You scored a free kick at Wembley in front of ninety thousand, but you’re sweating because the Queen of Barcelona herself is flying in for a sleepover?”

You put your hand out, "You say it like they're not both just as equally massive" You groan, head in hands. “Why did I tell you.”

Georgia grins. “Because you needed to.” She slaps your back once, warm and steady. “She’ll have a nice time I'm sure. And you're interesting when your social battery is full. Just don’t overthink it.” You look up. Georgia’s still smiling — not teasing now. Just sure. “Go get the girl from the airport,” she says. “Don't over think it, just take it for what it is, it's her idea to come here so let her lead what it is"

You roll your eyes. But you’re nodding too. Because yeah — it’s real now. She’s coming. And you have to be ready.

“Meado knows about mine and Alexia’s conversations, she doesn’t know about her coming. If you know, you need to freak out about this when I’m gone”

⚽️

The car is parked just beyond the pickup loop, engine idling low. Your hoodie’s half-zipped, one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other drumming nervously against your thigh. You’ve been here twenty minutes early, but you’d never admit it.

Your phone lights up with a text.

Alexia: Just got my bag. Coming out now.

You swallow hard.

You glance in the rearview mirror, tug at your hair, check your reflection. You don’t even know why — it’s her, you’ve already been through matches and mud and bruises together — but somehow, this is different.

It’s real. And quiet. And outside the lines. The terminal doors slide open again. A few people walk out. Not her. Another group. Still not. Your fingers tap faster.

Then there she is. Alexia. Dressed in all black, sunglasses pushed up into her hair, duffel bag over her shoulder. She walks out calm, casual, that familiar captain’s posture in every step. But her eyes are already searching.

And the second she sees you, they soften. You watch her approach through the windshield, heart thudding so hard you’re sure she’ll hear it before she even opens the door.

She pulls it open and slides into the passenger seat with that impossible grace, dropping her bag between her feet. You look at her.

She looks at you. And for a second, neither of you says a thing.

“Hey,” you breathe, voice barely above the hum of the engine.

“Hey,” she says back, softer.

You both smile. It’s awkward and perfect and so much. “I can’t believe you’re actually here,” you say as you pull out into traffic.

She leans back in the seat, eyes still on you. “I told you,” she murmurs. “I didn’t want to miss you.”

The city rolls past in a blur of grey and gold. Low sunlight spills across the dashboard, and the soft thrum of music — something wordless and warm — fills the quiet between you.

You’re both a little awkward. Not painfully so. Just… cautiously new.

It’s strange, this version of her — in your passenger seat, seatbelt clicking into place, fingers drumming lightly on her thigh. She’s looking out the window, but keeps glancing at you when she thinks you won’t notice.

You notice. “Airport was easy, then?” you ask, just to fill the silence.

She nods. “Very. One person tried to sneak a photo. But I gave them the look.”

You smirk. “The full ‘Putellas Death Glare’?”

“Level three only,” she says, mock serious. “Mild warning.”

You laugh under your breath, relaxing a little. Her accent’s thicker in person, softer in a car. You don’t know why that makes your stomach twist the way it does.

She glances at you again, a little longer this time. “It’s weird,” she murmurs. “Hearing you talk without a crowd around us.”

You smile. “You’ll get used to it.”

You make it through another light, and the silence stretches — still easy, but expectant.

Then suddenly — you freeze. “Oh shit.”

Alexia blinks. “What?”

You wince. “I forgot to tell you something kind of… important.”

She turns in her seat, curious. “What did you forget?”

You drum your fingers on the wheel. “I have a dog.”

Alexia blinks again. Then a slow smile tugs at her lips. “That’s what you forgot?”

“Well, yeah,” you say, already cringing. “I just—I meant to tell you. I’m not one of those people who spring dogs on people. He’s sweet. I swear.”

She’s laughing now — full, rich, effortless. “You make it sound like you’ve got a bear waiting at the door.”

“He’s just… enthusiastic,” you say, biting your lip. “His name’s Teddy.”

Alexia tilts her head, teasing. “Named after?”

“Teddy bear. Don’t judge me.”

She holds up both hands. “No judgment. But I can’t believe you didn’t lead with that.”

You glance at her. “Still time to turn around, you know.”

She smiles wider, looking straight ahead again. “I came here to see you,” she says softly. “Teddy’s just a bonus.”

And just like that, the nerves quiet. Just a little.

⚽️

You pull into the parking spot in the street, heart suddenly faster than it was on the pitch at Wembley.

Alexia’s quiet beside you, seatbelt undone, hands folded in her lap. But you feel her eyes on you as you kill the engine and sit for a second longer than necessary.

“This is it,” you say, finally, looking up at your loft apartment on the third floor

She nods. “Cute street.”

You grin. “Cute flat.”

She smirks. “Cute dog?”

You shoot her a look. “He’s trying his best.”

You both laugh as you get out. The early evening air is cool, the sky dipping into that soft lilac blue. You grab her small bag from the boot, and as you unlock the door, you hesitate.

“He might bark.”

“I can handle it,” she says, smiling.

You push the door open. It takes exactly one second.

Teddy barrels around the corner, all paws and excitement, nails tapping on the floor like a drumroll. His tail is going wild, and he’s already launching toward you when he spots the new presence behind you.

Alexia steps in, closing the door behind her. Teddy freezes. Then bolts straight for her.

You open your mouth to intervene—“Teddy, no!”—but before you can, Alexia’s already crouching down, calm and soft.

“Hola, precioso,” she murmurs, holding out a hand. And Teddy melts.

Tail wagging, head pressing into her palm, tongue ready for her cheek like she’s his long-lost soulmate.

You blink. “Well,” you mutter, “traitor.”

Alexia looks up at you, grinning as she scratches behind his ears. “He has taste,” she says. “Clearly.”

You lean against the doorframe, watching her — hair falling into her face, Teddy now rolling onto his back like he’s never known loyalty — and something in your chest settles. Warms.

Alexia stands, finally, brushing dog fur from her knees.

“Welcome to Germany,” you say, quieter now.

She doesn’t look away when she answers. “Thanks,” she says. “It already feels like a good idea.”

And for the first time all day, you believe you can relax. Because she’s here. This is just the beginning.

You toe off your shoes by the door, glance back to find Alexia standing just inside, Teddy still sniffing reverently at her shoes like he’s found royalty. Her bag’s at her feet, her jacket draped over her arm.

You clear your throat. “Right—um. Tour.”

She smiles like she’s already charmed. “I’m ready.”

You lead her into the main space — open-plan living room and kitchen. The walls are clean, but lived-in. A few photos on a shelf — one of the squad after a cup match, another of you and Beth pulling stupid faces at the camera. A soft throw blanket is half-fallen off the back of the couch. A candle you forgot you lit earlier is still flickering on the coffee table.

“This is the, uh—living-slash-existing space,” you say, gesturing vaguely. “Teddy thinks it belongs to him.”

Teddy immediately hops onto the couch, circles twice, and settles like you’ve just proven his point. Alexia grins.

You lead her into the kitchen, flicking on the under-counter light. “I don’t cook much, but the kettle works. Coffee pods are in here.” You tap a cupboard. “Mugs — there.”

She opens it, scans the shelves. “All mismatched.”

You shrug. “I collect them. Kind of.”

“I like it,” she says, softly. “It feels like someone lives here.”

You duck your head, smiling.

You show her the bathroom next — small, clean, stocked with too many hair ties and one towel you warn her not to use because it’s definitely Teddy’s now.

And then the hallway. Two doors.

“That one’s mine,” you say, thumb over your shoulder. “The other’s yours while you’re here.”

She doesn’t hesitate. Just peeks inside. A double bed, made neatly. Fresh towels folded at the foot.

She steps inside. Smiles softly looking around more.

You clear your throat. “I didn’t want it to feel weird.”

“It doesn’t,” she says. “It feels like you thought about it.”

“I did,” you admit.

It slips out quieter than you mean it to, but you don’t take it back.

Alexia meets your eyes. “Thank you. For having me.”

You nod toward the room. “Make yourself at home, yeah? My place is your place.”

She steps a little closer. Not much. Just enough that you feel her presence like a hum. “I already feel at home,” she says.

And the way she says it. It makes your chest ache. In the best way. You raise your eyes when they moved away from hers, "I'll um, leave you to unpack" you take a step back, "Teddy" you call, he appears around the foot of the bed, "Come" you give Alexia one final look and you walk back down the hallway.

She smiled opening her bag as she heard you chatting away to Teddy about getting him some treats, asking for various tricks from him.

⚽️

You tried to cook. You really did. But somewhere between boiling the pasta and burning the garlic, you gave up and ordered takeaway. Alexia didn’t mind. In fact, she looked almost relieved.

Now you’re both curled up on the couch, watching a show on a streaming app neither of you are paying attention to, warm plates in your laps and the soft, flickering glow of your fairy lights stretching across the ceiling.

She’s in one of your hoodies now. You hadn’t meant to offer it — just handed it over without thinking when she mentioned how cold planes make her feel.

It swallows her in all the right ways.

Teddy’s curled at your feet. Loyal again. For now.

“Okay,” she says mid-bite, glancing at you. “I need to know something.”

You look over, wiping your fingers on a napkin. “What?”

She gestures with her fork. “Do you actually like this pasta place, or is it just close?”

You fake a gasp. “You don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that,” she says, trying to hide her smile. “I just—your face when you handed it to me said, ‘This is the best I’ve got, but I know it’s not the best in the world.’”

You laugh. “Alright, yeah. It’s proximity-based love.”

She hums thoughtfully. “Respect.”

The TV plays something forgettable in the background — neither of you are really watching it. The kind of background noise that just fills in the edges of something far more focused. Like the way she’s sitting. One leg folded beneath her, turned just slightly toward you. Or the way you’re watching her mouth more than listening to her words.

She puts her plate down on the coffee table, wipes her hands, then leans back. “You were nervous,” she says suddenly.

You blink. “When?”

“Earlier. At the airport. In the car.”

You roll your eyes. “Was it that obvious?”

She smiles, soft and real. “A little.”

You look down at your plate, then back at her. “I just… didn’t want it to feel weird.”

Alexia tilts her head slightly. “It doesn’t. You make it easy.”

That catches you off guard. You blink once, then set your plate down too. The silence stretches. But it’s not awkward. It’s warm. “I’m glad you came,” you say.

She leans her head back against the couch, eyes on you now in that slow, deliberate way she does everything. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” she says.

Alexia is fiddling with the sleeve of your hoodie — pulling at the hem with her thumb like she doesn’t realise she’s doing it. She’s not really looking at you. Not often. Just quick glances. Then back down. Then away.

You’re talking about random things. Easy things. Football. Training. Travel. Things you are confident you have in common.

She tells you about a weird airport coffee she had in Zurich. You tell her about the time Teddy accidentally got locked in your bathroom for 20 minutes and emerged looking personally betrayed.

And every now and then, there’s a pause that lasts a little longer than it should. But neither of you fill it. You just let it be. Eventually, you nudge your leg gently against hers. “You’re quiet.”

Alexia shifts. “Am I?”

You smile. “A little. For someone who just flew here to hang out with me.”

She huffs a quiet laugh. It’s barely there. “I’m just…” She trails off. Shrugs. “I’m not good at this part.”

You tilt your head. “What part?”

She stares at the coffee table like it’s got answers. “The talking part.” You wait. She finally looks at you — really looks. “I know how to show up to a match,” she says, voice low. “How to lead. How to win. That makes sense to me. But this?” She gestures between you. “This is…” She doesn’t finish.

You finish it for her. “New.”

She nods. And for a second, you think maybe she’s going to stand up, shift away, hide behind something safe. But she doesn’t. She just sits there. Awkward. Present. Willing.

You offer a small, understanding smile. “We don’t have to figure it all out tonight.”

She exhales, a little lighter now. “Good. Because I didn’t bring a tactics board.”

You both laugh. Softly. Easily. She doesn’t say anything else for a while — just leans back again, arms crossed over her chest now, head tilted slightly in your direction.

Eventually, she mumbles, almost like it’s for herself, “I’m glad I came too.” You nudge her foot with yours, with a gentle smile.

Alexia’s sitting sideways on the couch, one leg tucked under her, the other stretched out slightly, your hoodie sleeves pushed halfway up her forearms. You’re close, but not quite touching.

The conversation’s slowed to a hum — soft music talk, playlists, half-confessions about guilty pleasure songs. She mentions a Catalan band you’ve never heard of, and while she’s scrolling through her phone to find a song, your eyes drift downward.

And then you see it. A couple of faint lines on her knee. Pale, clean, but unmistakable. The scar. You pause. Not out of shock — you knew. You remember the coverage, the months out, the comeback.

But seeing it? That’s different. It’s not just a story now. It’s her. She notices your eyes drop. And for the first time all night, she goes still.

“Yeah,” she says softly, not quite looking at you. “That’s… that.”

You meet her eyes again. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t hide. But there’s something guarded in her voice. Like she’s used to people staring at it, asking about it, expecting something from it. You don’t ask. You just nod once, gentle. “Looks like strength,” you say, matter-of-fact.

Alexia’s brow furrows, unsure if you’re serious. But you are. She shifts slightly — not closer, but more open somehow. Her hand moves instinctively toward her knee, fingers grazing the scar once, like she’s reminding herself it’s still there.

“Sometimes it feels like I left a part of myself in there,” she murmurs. “The version of me from before.”

You let that hang. Then, quietly, “The version of you now scored against me. Twice.”

She huffs a breath. “Only one actually went in.”

“Still counts.”

She glances at you — and her smile is tired, genuine, laced with something like gratitude. Not for the words. For the way you didn’t try to fix it. Just saw it. And stayed.

The playlist she queued has faded into a quiet acoustic hum — soft, wordless, like it knows it shouldn’t interrupt. The light in the room has gone warm and low, one lamp casting golden arcs over her face as she leans back into the couch, knee still bent, hand still ghosting near the scar.

You don’t speak. You wait. And eventually — slowly — she does.

“I didn’t think I’d come back,” she says, voice low, eyes fixed on the ceiling like it’s easier not to look at you. “Not really.”

You blink, still, letting her keep control of it.

“Everyone kept saying I would. That I’d be fine. That I was strong, that I’d be back in a year. But inside…” She swallows. “I didn’t feel strong. I didn’t even feel whole. I felt… like I’d been cut out of myself.”

You shift just slightly. Not closer — not yet. But enough to let her know, I’m here. She breathes, slow.

“I’d watch games and feel like I didn’t belong anymore. Like I’d already been replaced. And I didn’t want anyone to know how scared I was because… I’m not supposed to be scared. I’m her, you know?” She finally looks at you now. “La Reina” You meet her eyes, steady. She adds, barely audible, “But I felt like glass.”

The words hang in the room — fragile, but not broken. You nod once. Then say the only thing you really believe in this moment. “I think you’re better now.”

Her brow pulls, confused. “What?”

You lean back, resting your head on the couch, looking up like she did. “You’re smarter. Sharper. Your passes don’t just thread — they cut. You’ve got control most people don’t even understand. And there’s a weight to the way you move now, like you know exactly what it costs to step back onto the pitch.”

You turn your head to her again.

“I’ve watched you before. Really watched you. You were always brilliant. But now?” You shrug. “You’re something else.”

Alexia stares at you, mouth parted slightly — like no one’s ever said it that way. Not like that. Not to her. She doesn’t say thank you. She just shifts — this time closer. Not dramatic. Just enough. Her shoulder brushes yours. Her knee bumps your thigh. And she lets out a breath that sounds a little like relief. “Thank you,” she murmurs eventually, eyes back on the scar. And then, softer: “I’ve never said that stuff out loud.”

You nod. “I know.” The quiet returns — not heavy this time. Comfortable. Like something sacred just happened, and you both know it.

She’s close now. Arm resting lightly against yours. Your hoodie sleeves bunching at her wrists. The scar still visible — but no longer raw. You glance down at her, the way her gaze has softened since she spoke, how her edges feel less guarded, like your living room gave her permission she didn’t even know she needed.

You swallow once. Think. Then speak. “You know… when I moved to Germany, people said it was career suicide.”

Alexia turns her head slightly, brows faintly drawn. Listening now. Not out of politeness. Intention. You stare ahead.

“Agents stopped calling. Interviews dried up. One coach — someone I used to really trust — told me I’d disappear. That I’d ‘fade out quietly.’” You huff a laugh, but there’s no humour in it. “I hadn’t even unpacked yet.”

Alexia is silent. Not interrupting. Just there.

“I’d scroll through social media and see all the squad updates, the camps, the conversations I wasn’t in anymore. And I thought… maybe they’re right. Maybe I peaked.”

You pause. Swallow.

“I started believing it. Like I was a mistake that was just waiting to happen.”

Alexia shifts slightly, her arm pressing into yours, grounding you.

“But then,” you continue, voice quieter now, “I played. I worked. And I kept showing up. And slowly… something changed. Not in them. In me.”

Alexia tilts her head. You glance at her.

“I stopped playing to prove people wrong,” you say. “And I started playing like they didn’t get a say.”

There’s a pause. And then—so soft you almost miss it—she says, “I noticed.”

You look at her. She’s watching you now — full on. Not blinking. Not shrinking. And when she speaks again, it’s steady.

“You didn’t disappear. You became better.”

You smile, but there’s a knot in your throat. Because you know she means it. And you never expected to hear it from her. Alexia leans her head back against the couch, her body still relaxed but her voice dipped low again.

“I know what that doubt feels like,” she says. “And I know how heavy it is to prove yourself to people who already made up their minds.”

You nod. “It’s exhausting.”

She murmurs, “And lonely.”

The room goes quiet again. But this time? Not lonely. Just two people sitting in a space neither of you were sure existed — honest, open, real. No spotlight. No pressure. Just you and her. And the ache you’ve both come back from.

⚽️

It’s late.

So late the playlist stopped a while ago. So late the city outside your windows feels like it’s on mute. You both stretch at almost the same time — that lazy, reluctant movement that means okay, maybe we should sleep but neither of you want to break the quiet just yet.

You stand first. Alexia follows. She’s still in your hoodie, tugging it down slightly, bare feet padding across the floor as you walk her to the guest room — side by side in a hush that feels warmer than anything words could’ve done.

You pause at the door.

She turns to face you, one hand on the doorframe. Her hair’s a little messy now, eyes slightly glassy with exhaustion. Her voice, when it comes, is soft and almost shy.

“Thanks for tonight.”

You smile, slow. “Thanks for coming.”

She nods, then looks down like she might say something else. But she doesn’t. You step back slightly, hands in your hoodie pockets, eyes flicking to hers.

“Goodnight, Alexia.”

She looks up at that. And for a second — just one second — the look on her face says everything else she didn’t say. Then she nods, once. Barely a smile. But it reaches her eyes. “Goodnight.”

She slips into the room. You don’t linger. Just turn toward your own — quiet footsteps down the short hall. You push the door open and Teddy. Right there, already curled up in the middle of your bed. One eye open, tail thumping lazily against the duvet like, about time.

You smile, rubbing the back of your neck as you sit on the edge of the bed. Your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You pick it up.

Alexia: Sleep well. You talk less than I thought you would. I liked it.

You stare at the message for a second, then type back:

You: You talk more than I thought you would. I liked it too.

Teddy sighs dramatically. You laugh under your breath. Then switch off the light. And for the first time in a long time, you fall asleep not needing to prove anything. Because she’s here. And you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

⚽️

You wake to the smell of coffee. And the distinct sound of Teddy betraying you. You roll out of bed, hair a mess, hoodie tugged low over your hands, padding barefoot into the kitchen where—There she is.

Alexia.

Still in your hoodie. One sock on, one foot bare. Mug in hand, eyes still puffy with sleep, standing at your counter while Teddy leans against her legs like he’s never loved anyone else.

She glances up when you walk in, and her smile is soft. Unbrushed. Unfiltered. Real.

“Morning,” she says, voice husky.

You squint. “How’d you find the biscuits?”

She holds up the mug in salute. “I’m elite. And you left a post-it that said ‘left cupboard, top shelf, if teddy won't leave you alone'.”

You grin. “I knew past-me had potential.”

She turns back to the counter, pouring more water into the kettle, while Teddy attempts to wedge himself between her and the cabinets, tail sweeping the floor like a metronome.

“You realise he’s using you,” you say, grabbing a clean mug.

“He can use me all he wants,” she says, reaching down to scratch his ears. “He’s warm.”

You watch her — the way her fingers slide under Teddy’s collar, the way her mouth twitches when he tries to climb into her actual lap. It’s not a moment. Not a capital-letter Event. But something in your chest aches anyway.

Because she looks right here.

You grab the eggs, start cracking them into the pan. She pulls down two plates without being asked. Neither of you talks much. Just a few sleepy comments, heads bumping once as you both reach for the cutlery drawer.

When you sit across from her at the little kitchen table — plates steaming, dog underfoot — she catches your eye as you tuck your leg up under you. She doesn’t look away. Not for a while.

You hold it. You hold her. And the smile she gives you. It says I see this. I feel it. I’m here.

After breakfast, you throw a hoodie over your tee, pull on your trainers, and rattle Teddy’s lead. He loses his mind, of course — spinning, barking, pawing at the door like it personally wronged him.

“You wanna come?” you ask, glancing over your shoulder at Alexia.

She shrugs. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

She throws on a coat of yours on hook, slips into her trainers, and follows you out the door — hair tied up, sleeves rolled down, sunglasses perched on her head like she forgot the sun lives here too despite the cold.

You walk through quiet neighbourhood streets, Teddy darting side to side, nose in every hedge. You and her? Side by side. Not touching. Not saying much. But every now and then, you catch her watching you. And when you glance back— She doesn’t look away.

You loop around the quiet end of the park, the noise of the street fading behind you, and find your bench — tucked under a tree just starting to bloom, a little weathered, sun-warmed. Teddy bounds ahead, lead dropped loose in your hand, tail sweeping in wide arcs like a painter’s brush.

Alexia sits first, arms wrapped around herself like she’s trying not to take up space but still wants to stay close. You drop beside her, leg stretched long, hands resting over your thighs.

For a while, you both just sit. Watching Teddy. Letting the quiet settle.

Then Alexia speaks, voice dry. “You really weren’t kidding about him being enthusiastic.”

You glance at her. She’s staring at Teddy, who’s currently rolling in something deeply questionable on the grass. You sigh.

“Yeah but he’s loyal.. until someone has better snacks anyway.”

She snorts. “I didn’t even have snacks.”

“Exactly,” you say, nudging her foot with yours. “He’s just shallow.”

She smirks, then leans back a little, adjusting the sleeves of your coat again. “He’s got taste, though. He likes me.”

You raise a brow. “Are you calling yourself a snack?”

“I’m not denying it.”

You laugh — sharp, sudden, surprised. And it makes her smile wider “You’ve got this whole mysterious captain thing,” you say, squinting at her. “But secretly, you’re kind of cocky.”

She tilts her head, smug. “Only when I’m right.” You roll your eyes, but your grin’s too soft to mean it. There’s a pause. Then, more gently “I like this,” she says, not looking at you now — just forward, at the dog, at the path.

You shift, the warmth of her words settling low in your ribs. “This?” you echo.

She nods. “The quiet. You. Teddy. This bench.” She pauses, then smirks again. “Even your coat.”

You laugh, quieter this time. “You make it look better than I do.”

“I know.” She meets your eyes then. And the silence that follows doesn't last long until you're leaning into each other laughing about it.

You clear your throat, picking at a thread on your sleeve, when the little old lady that you see everyday was eyeing you with annoyance, "So, um… are you always like this when you’re off the pitch?”

Alexia blinks. “Like what?”

You shrug. “A bit smug. Surprisingly funny. Secretly soft.”

She narrows her eyes, mock offended. “Secretly?”

You smirk. “I mean, the brand is very serious captain with cheekbones that could cut glass.”

Alexia hums. “Cheekbones and a scar. Very dramatic.”

“Oh, absolutely. You’re one trench coat away from being a Bond villain.” That gets a real laugh — full-bodied and sudden. She leans her head back against the bench, still smiling.

Then, “You make this easy,” she says, softer now. “Being here.”

You glance at her. And for a second, it’s all there again — the pitch, the free kick, the weight of it all.

But here, it’s light. You bump your knee gently against hers. “I’m glad you came, Alexia.” She doesn’t look away this time.

“I am too.”

You stretch your legs out in front of you, glancing sideways at her — Alexia, sitting there so casually now, one foot tucked beneath her, face tilted toward the sun like she’s been here a dozen times instead of just once.

You reach down to pat Teddy’s back as he wanders close.

Then glance at her.

“Do you like clichés?”

She lifts a brow. “What kind of question is that?”

You shrug, casual. “Like, romantic comedies. Grand gestures. Saying the same dumb things everyone else does. Standing on famous streets pretending you’re having an authentic experience.”

Alexia leans back, lips twitching. “You’re stalling.”

You grin. “Maybe.”

She squints at you now, playful. “Okay. Ask me properly.”

You turn toward her fully, arms folded over your chest like you’re about to deliver something serious.

“Would you like to do all the ridiculously cliché tourist things in Munich with me today?”

Alexia’s head tips slightly to the side, considering.

You keep going.

“I mean the whole deal — the Marienplatz selfie. Pretending to care about the Glockenspiel. Giant pretzels. A walk through the Englischer Garten where I’ll tell you lies about German history I definitely make up.”

Her smile creeps in slowly — then fully.

“I want lederhosen photos.”

You gasp, dramatically. “That’s advanced cliché.”

“I’m committed.”

You laugh. “God help us.”

She leans in slightly. “Only if you wear them too.”

You groan. “I’ve made a mistake.”

“You offered.”

You hold her gaze for a second, heart kicking a little louder now beneath all the lightness.

And she’s still smiling.

But there’s something genuine behind it.

Like maybe, for the first time in a long time, she’s just saying yes to a day that doesn’t come with pressure, or cameras, or expectations.

Just you.

She nudges your knee with hers. “So? We going or what?”

You whistle for Teddy. “Marienplatz, prepare yourself.”

⚽️

You start with Marienplatz. Because of course you do.

The crowds are already gathering under the watchful clock of the Neues Rathaus, phones out and necks craning toward the tower. You know the Glockenspiel starts at eleven. You’ve seen it a dozen times. It’s slow. It’s slightly underwhelming. But you still pretend like it’s sacred.

“People clap after this?” Alexia murmurs beside you, watching a small bronze knight rotate in a slow, juddering circle.

“Every time,” you whisper back. “It’s powerful.”

She gives you the driest look you’ve ever seen and it almost takes you out.

You snap a selfie right there — her unimpressed expression next to your exaggerated awe. It’s perfect. You don't even check it before saving.

From there it’s Viktualienmarkt — where you insist on finding the most absurdly oversized pretzel possible. Alexia watches you barter with a vendor and somehow ends up paying instead. She splits it with you anyway. You walk through the stalls like locals, even though you're both definitely not.

You buy her a little pin shaped like a beer stein. You stick it to her jacket pocket. “Souvenir,” she says.

You end up in the Englischer Garten by early afternoon, the kind of place where the trees stretch wide and people picnic like they’ve got nowhere else to be. Teddy loses his mind over a pigeon and nearly pulls Alexia into a fountain.

You don’t let that one go quietly. “Two time Ballon D'or, and you still couldn’t hold the line.”

“It was a very fast pigeon.”

You laugh until you’re leaning against her, shoulder to shoulder, catching your breath while Teddy runs victory laps around you both.

At the beer garden, you sit under the shade of chestnut trees, and Alexia orders something she can’t pronounce while you pretend to translate and definitely make it worse.

She tries white sausage and doesn’t hide her reaction.

You raise a brow. “Too real?”

“I can mark out midfielders. I can’t defend this texture.”

You toast anyway.

Later, you wander without purpose — through side streets with painted shutters and ivy-streaked balconies, past musicians playing under archways and little kids holding balloon strings tight to their wrists. Alexia keeps her sunglasses low on her nose, watching it all.

“I get why you like it here,” she says.

You glance over. “Yeah?”

She nods, then adds softly, “You fit here.”

It sticks.

You end up near the river as golden hour starts to take the edge off the buildings. There’s a stone ledge overlooking the water. You sit. She leans back on her hands, face turned to the sky.

“Okay,” she says finally. “This was... fun.”

You grin. “You sound surprised.”

“I am. I didn’t think cliché could feel like this.”

“Like what?”

She glances at you. Her expression doesn’t change much — but her voice does. “Easy.”

You don’t say anything for a second. Just smile. Then bump her knee gently with yours. “Think we earned ice cream?”

She tilts her head. “Is that part of the cliché package?”

“Obviously.”

You walk back into the city with cones in hand, Teddy leading the way again, tail wagging like a metronome keeping time with your steps.

And somewhere along that walk — maybe crossing a street, or brushing hands as you trade bites of each other’s flavours — something soft settles between you.

Not tension. Not expectation. Just understanding.

⚽️

You swing by the flat first — the front door barely closed before Teddy flops dramatically across the hallway floor like he’s survived something immense.

Alexia kneels down beside him, ruffles behind his ears, and says, “You’ll be alright without us.”

He sighs like he won’t.

You both change quickly — nothing fancy, just different hoodies, fresh faces, the kind of casual that looks better on her than it has any right to.

The bar you pick is a local one — tucked into a side street off the main square, part wine bar, part café, part 'we might have regulars but we won’t pretend to know your name unless you want us to.'

You take the corner table. The lights are soft and golden, the walls cluttered with mismatched frames and shelves of wine bottles. You order a bottle of white you’ve had before — one you hope she’ll like — and a snack board that arrives faster than expected: warm bread, cheese, olives, salted almonds.

She looks around, impressed. “You bring all your international friends here?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Only the ones who knock me out the champions league.”

“Fair,” she says, hiding a smile behind her glass.

You’ve barely had a sip before you reach into your bag and pull out a battered Uno deck.

Alexia blinks. “You brought cards?”

“They have them as you walk in. I’m competitive,” you say, shrugging. “And brave.”

She laughs once, short and sharp. “You’re going to regret this.”

“I’ve already accepted that.” You deal. And it begins.

It starts civil. Friendly. Smirks over skips. Light jabs when she stacks draw twos. You both pick at the snack board between plays, hands brushing occasionally as you reach for the same olive.

But by the second game, It’s personal.

She slams down a reverse like it’s a tactical sub in a final. You pull a draw four from your hoodie pocket like a weapon of war. She narrows her eyes. You lift your brows, mock-innocent.

It’s deadly serious. It’s ridiculous. And you’re both grinning like you haven’t stopped since this morning.

The bar starts to fill in slowly, but your little corner stays quiet — like a bubble you haven’t noticed growing around you. Just you, her, your wine glasses catching the light, and a stack of discarded cards that tells a very messy, very entertaining story.

Somewhere between games, you pause — mid-sip, watching her draw her hand.

“Are you always like this?” you ask. “Lowkey evil under all that calm?”

She looks up, unbothered. “Only when provoked.”

You laugh, leaning back. “Remind me not to cross you again.”

She smirks, eyes flicking up at you over her cards. “You already did,” she says, laying down a wild card.

The round ends. She wins.

You groan dramatically and throw your cards onto the table. She raises her hands in mock celebration, then quietly steals another piece of cheese from your side of the board.

“You know,” she says casually, chewing, “This might be the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

You blink. She doesn’t look up right away — just flips the deck over and starts reshuffling it absentmindedly.

But you’re watching her. And there’s no doubt in your mind. She means it.

⚽️

The walk home from the bar is slow. No rush. No real conversation either. Just a lot of little smiles. Shoulders brushing sometimes. The city quieter now — streetlights pooling in soft circles at your feet.

When you reach your building, you both slip inside quietly, Teddy greeting you at the door with a sleepy grumble and a thump of his tail.

You toe off your shoes, hang your jacket, glance over at her — and then, impulsively:

“Wanna see something stupid?”

Alexia blinks. “Not usually the way someone convinces me to follow them, but… sure.”

You grin.

You lead her through the flat — past the living room, into your bedroom. Teddy hops onto the bed like he’s reclaiming his kingdom. You move to the window — the one you always leave cracked just a little — and unlatch it the rest of the way.

You glance back at her.

She’s standing with her arms folded, watching you like she’s bracing for something truly ridiculous.

You duck out first — onto the sloped bit of roofing just beyond the window, socks scraping softly against the tiles. You crouch low, then stand carefully, balancing with practiced ease.

You turn and beckon. Alexia just stares. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

She steps closer, looks out.

The drop’s not that bad. 22 feet, maybe. But the tiles are slick with dew, and there’s no railing, no barrier, no sensible adult supervision.

“This is wildly unsafe,” she mutters.

You just smile. “Come on. I’m not gonna let you fall.”

She glares at you, muttering something in Catalan that sounds very judgmental. But you can see it — the twitch at the corner of her mouth. She’s not really mad.

She’s just concerned. Which somehow only makes it better.

After a few more seconds of muttering under her breath, she sighs dramatically, steps up onto the ledge, and eases herself through the window with surprising grace — a little unsteady at first, reaching for your hand instinctively.

You catch it. Steady her. “See?” you say, squeezing her fingers lightly. “Easy.”

“Still stupid,” she mutters.

But she doesn’t pull away. You lead her a few steps up — careful, slow — until you both settle onto the slightly flatter part of the roof, side by side, legs pulled up to your chest..

She finally looks up the whole city stretches out in front of her.

The rooftops curve into the skyline, lights twinkling like fallen stars. The dark river cuts a lazy path through the buildings. A few stray sirens whine in the distance, but mostly it’s just quiet. Wide and open and impossibly still.

Alexia exhales — a soft, almost disbelieving sound. The corners of her mouth lift. And whatever worry she had before melts off her shoulders.

“Okay,” she says, voice lighter now. “Maybe it’s worth the risk.”

You bump your knee against hers. “Told you.”

You sit like that for a long time — no rush, no plan. Just the two of you, the city breathing around you, your hands close enough to touch if you dared.

Every now and then, you glance over and catch her watching the lights, the horizon, the night itself like she’s letting herself believe she could belong to something this simple.

The climb back in through the window is quieter than the climb out.

Alexia moves slower now, heavy with the kind of tired that comes after a day full of laughter and nowhere to be but here. She drops softly into your bedroom, feet padding across the floor, hoodie sleeves pulled down over her hands again.

You follow behind, closing the window gently behind you.

Teddy’s already curled up on the bed, barely lifting his head to acknowledge your return. He gives Alexia one approving thump of the tail. You’re not sure if it’s for coming back safely or for still being here.

You rub at the back of your neck, eyes a little hazy, wine long gone.

Alexia stands in the doorway to the guest room now, hand on the frame. Her expression is soft — not sleepy exactly, just settled.

She looks at you. And it hits again — this moment. How simple it is. How much it means. You lean against the wall across from her, arms crossed loosely, smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“I’ll make sure you don’t miss your flight in the morning,” you say.

She smirks faintly. “You better.”

“I’ll set three alarms.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “Four.”

You laugh, quiet and tired. “Pushy.”

She shrugs. “Punctual.”

The pause that follows isn’t awkward. It’s full. Of all the things neither of you are saying right now. But it’s okay. You already said so much.

She shifts slightly, head tilting. “Today was…”

You nod. “Yeah.”

She doesn’t finish the sentence. She doesn’t have to.

You step forward, and without thinking, you pull her into a light hug — not long, not heavy, but enough. Enough to feel the warmth of her hoodie, the steady beat of her breath, the soft slide of her hand as it rests briefly on the back of your head.

You pull back just a little. She’s still close. “Goodnight, Alexia.”

Her eyes flicker — tired and unreadable, but warmer now “Goodnight.”

She steps into the guest room and closes the door behind her with a gentle click. You exhale.

Teddy stretches across your bed with a groan like he just ran the city.

You flick off the hallway light, pad back into your room, and crawl beneath the covers.

The room is dark now. But your chest is full. And your alarms are definitely set. Tomorrow she leaves.

⚽️

The alarms buzz you awake just after six.

Teddy barely lifts his head as you stumble into the kitchen, yawning, the world outside still caught between night and day.

Alexia’s already up. You find her sitting on the edge of the couch, tying her sneakers — hair messy, hoodie slung loose over her frame, backpack by her feet.

She looks up when you walk in, and there’s a small, tired smile waiting for you. “Morning,” she says, voice thick with sleep.

You hum a reply, rubbing your eyes. Neither of you rush.

You load Teddy into the backseat. He whines a little, sensing something is different. The drive to the airport is quiet — warm coffee cups in the holders, the radio playing something soft neither of you bother to change.

She leans her forehead against the window once, watching the fields blur into concrete. When you pull up to Departures, you leave the car idling, glancing over at her.

She’s already unbuckling her seatbelt, but neither of you move right away.

The city is waking up outside. You’re wide awake here. Alexia shifts in her seat to face you. “This was…” She trails off, the words sticking again.

You smile, small. “Yeah. It was.”

She fiddles with the ring on her finger.

You grip the steering wheel lightly. “You’ll make your flight.”

She nods. “Thanks for not letting me oversleep.”

You bump your shoulder against hers gently. “Thanks for making it hard to say goodbye.”

That gets a real smile — tired, fond, a little crooked. She opens the door, stepping out into the sharp morning air. You get out too.

You meet her around the back of the car — not rushed, not dramatic. Just standing there, with a sea of taxis and early travelers moving around you like another current you’re not ready to step into yet.

She shoulders her bag. You jam your hands into your hoodie pockets.

Then — simply — she steps closer. You think she might hug you. You think you might need her to.

But instead, she reaches up — slow, careful — and hooks one finger lightly around your hoodie drawstring. Tugs it once. Soft. Playful.

“Text me when you get home,” you say, even though you’re already sure she will.

Alexia nods. “You too.”

And then — because she knows when to let things stay perfect — she turns and walks toward the entrance. You watch her weave through the doors. She doesn’t look back. Not until she’s just inside, bag slung over one shoulder, ticket in hand. Then she does. Just once.

She finds you through the glass — through the crowd and the noise and the press of the world. She smiles. Small. Sure. Enough.

You lift a hand. She does too. Then she’s gone, swallowed into the current of the airport.

You stand there a moment longer, breath fogging in the chill, Teddy’s nose nudging your hand.

You pat his head. Then you climb back into the car. And drive home, to grab a few more hours of sleep before training.

[kyri45]

✨ISAT Sky: Cotl!AU Q&A ✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the ISAT Sky: Cotl!AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

Anonimo ha chiesto: sometimes when im bored i just go to your profile to position your pfp to siffrin's hands so it looks like they're holding you

I feel threatened bc if Siffrin would know what I'm making them pass through with the next comic updates he would crush me insteantly with a fist.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Damn Siffrin is dying and no one will ever remember them. 😔 Oh Loo~ooop!

Loop coming to save the day even tough they aren't paid enough for this shit

Anonimo Siffrin isn't aware of the hole in the wall you can go through for those two statues without having to get pelted by rocks smh my head. (said jokingly) ((Love your comic btw!! Thank you for this AU, I love it))

THE

WHAT?

YOU CAN GO THROUGH A WALL TO GET THEM WITHOUT RUNNING FOR YOUR LIFE?????

Anonimo My reaction to this chapter of ISAT COTL CROSSOVER AU (10/9/2024) GO BBG YOU GOT THIS IN THE BAG!! OH YOU DO NOT GOT THIS IN THE BAG.. oh now you're out of the bag oh god ruh roh

Oh yeah he does NOT have this.

Anonimo pst hey hey are you gonna pose the statues, it would be funny i swear totally not more heartbreaking for siffr- WAIT HOW WOULD THEY REACT TO THE FACT YOU CAN BARELY SAVE ALL OF THE STATUES WHEN YOU REACH THE FOREVER STORM PART-

he has enough memories that he should recover a good amount of statues. It's not a matter of wheter or not he can save everyone, but mostly themself....

Anonimo ha chiesto: Hey so I cannot believe I am so late to see your ISAT and Sky AU because I love!! Both of them!! So much!! And I just wanted to thank you for making it and sharing it with us because it’s really cool! And both fandoms need more attention imo <333 @ucorpwhalingyaoi ha chiesto: I know NOTHING about cotl but my god your isat au of it has made me want to play it so bad 💔 (very /pos…) @primrosechronicles ha chiesto: HEYYYY ITS BEEN A WHILE SINCE IVE SENT AN ASK!! Ive been silently reading the isat comic since my last ask and im very very proud of you for making this far!!! mwahh!!! Thank you for inspiring me to play sky again, cuz if not i wouldn't have able to meet my sky friends Anonimo ha chiesto: first of all, I came here from the shadowpeach au but your comics dragged my ass to the ISAT fandom second of all, HOW DARE YOU PLAYED WITH MY HAPPINESS LIKE THAT (love your art and story telling, I wanna eat it like a fancy dinner) @prince0fghosty ha chiesto: It's been hard for me to find Sky: Children of the Light content anywhere! I found you through a friend and not only are you interested in Sky but also Lego Monkie Kid this is truly the best day ever!!! I got back into the game because of you. I like to help moths out in Eden @phoenix-is-here ha chiesto: You are the person who introduced me to the ISAT fandom and I gotta say thank you for that. That's one of the best games I've ever played and I would have never known about it without stumbling onto your account first (because of a strong hyperfixation on a show about monkeys ofc) so.. Accept this virtual cookie and glass of milk as a gift : 🍪 Anonimo ha chiesto: I followed for the shadowpeach, stayed for Sky CotL, keep cookin

HIII!!! AND TYSM!!!!!

@elianaroselight ha chiesto: This feels a little silly, but what is ISAT? I read through your ISAT Sky AU comic and I feel like I am missing half of the story. I love what I'm seeing so far and want more, but I also don't know or completely understand who the characters are and why I should care about them (more than I do already at least). Sorry if this is silly. I just want to understand.

ISAT is short for "In Stars And Time". It's an RPG game made by @insertdisc5. ABsolutely go check it out otherwise you wont understand a thing about the characters of the AU!

when i was reading the most recent page of the In Skies and Time™️ comic I had the most hilarious image in my head of just a bunch of sky kids smacking down on the same area and making this. sky kid pileup????? [since it seems liek theyre all gonna come back like that..] it was super funny to imagine 30 CAR PILEUP 🔥🔥🔥

AWWW SKY KID MOUNTAIN!! Lol probably it would happen? Like when you do Eden just after reset and when you get reborn there's like 7 other players clipped in you rebirth animation in the aviary /home space

Anonimo ha chiesto: Awwwww Bonnie was so excited 😢

poor Bonnie they will get their comfort moment eventually

@sohrleas ha chiesto: YOU YOU'RE THE REASON WHY I got Sky 'cause I saw your isat sky au and got super curious about the game Your art is beautiful and I love it 💚💚💚

LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOO!!!!

Anonimo ha chiesto: HOPEFUL STEWARD WOOOOO-

IT'S MY BOY!!

@o0mochacoffee0o This isn’t related to you Bio dad AU Like my usuals- I just saw in your abut that you like CotL! Now you share two of my interests!! I’m curious to know your favorite parts of the game, if you have any ships, head canons, etc!! I always love listening to people’s opinions on things I love!

About Scotl? I don't have any specific headcanon, but I do ship Moments Guide and Reassuring Ranges. The only thing that I crave for that game is MORE LORE GODDAMN IT

Anonimo ha chiesto: When I said the fun was dying. I did not expected this. I'M SCREAMING AND PUNCHING THE BED NOOOOOOOOOOOO SIFFF

*sips coffee* welcome to hell (literally)

Anonimo ha chiesto: "is that thing a sadness?!" sweet summer child that thing is a menace of death

It absolutely is

Anonimo ha chiesto: Poor Siffrin’s gotta be absolutely TERRIFIED Big scary beast thing spotted them AND suddenly getting bathed in the color they associate with bad stuff? I can’t imagine anyone who wouldn���t be quaking in their boots.

He is in desperate need of comfort that wont come in like- a irl month I think

Anonimo ha chiesto: I know you won’t be doing the golden wastelands but… Once the party discovers that the groundwater has the same effect as the forest rain, Isabeau decides to bridal carry Siffrin the whole way. Leaving Siffrin a blushy mess. Also, almost if not everyone is scared shitless of the Dark Dragons/Krill (totally not projecting)

ooooohh that is soooo cute i'm dying!!!!!

Anonimo ha chiesto: THE FAKE ACT 4 LOOKING SMILE . THE ACT 5 EDEN MOMENT. THE PARTY BEING SENT BACK . DIES "oh yeah if I still have energy I can loop back" ← me when I'm lying

@starlight-and-clockwork ha chiesto: bawling and kicking and screaming and pulling my hair out THAT PANEL OF SIFFRIN ASKING HIS FAMILY TO REMEMBER HIM WILL HAUNT ME FOREVER YOU ARE SO TALENTED AND CAUSE ME MUCH PAIN THANK U<3

@aro-aces-world ha chiesto: I just caught up with ISAT sky au Fuck you /affectionate

Thank you! Be ready to be even more destroyed by the following updates!

@cherryblossomventi ha chiesto: I’m gonna go feral, Sif did that because he knows he can kinda come back from this with the shooting star thing Im guessing but the others cant/might not because they aren’t from this land,,, oh buddy why didn’t you tell them stop being cryptic idiot

Sif doesn't really remember that he can be reborn like in Sky. He knows only that, if he can reach the light right at the base of the cataclysm, then maybe he can return as well.

[psilliguykai]

WELCOME TO WILLIAM’S WANTON WEARY WILES!

An impulsive, apathetic man’s misanthropic jams. An eclectic collection of futile dissensions, a pretentious pile of literary bile filled with self destructive theatrics and rectifying tactics and any other slew of showy words.

Welcome.

(Info under the cut)

*queue WTTH instrumental*

Hello boys, girls, neithers, boths, and in-betweens and welcome to William’s Wanton Weary Wiles, a Will Wood/WWATTW x CCCC AU! Consider this a masterpost. Note that this AU is still very much in development, and this post will be updated as things change/get added :] Also. being totally up front. I’ve never made an AU or attempted a story this complex before, so please bare with me if things get confusing! Feedback is appreciated ^^

Warning! WWWW tackles sensitive topics, but nothing foreign to Will Wood or Chonny Jash’s music. Appropriate warnings will be put in the tags of each post, but overall CW/TW for: alcoholism/addiction, mental health issues, suicidal ideation, manipulation, and (moderate) violence.

The WWWW AU story is very similar to the original CCCC album, but with slightly different themes and tone. It still follows HMSW after Whole splits, creating Heart, Mind, and Soul. However, each character and their dynamics + certain plot points (e.g the Juno incident) are altered.

Asks about this AU are extremely welcome! Could be genuine questions, thoughts, serious, silly - anything (so long as it’s SFW!) is great and will help me with making this a Better and Actual Thing :3

In WWWW each member of HMSW represents and is based off of a WW(ATTW) album. Each character’s songs are from their respective albums, and the story will be told in the form of a written series of covers of songs by WW/WWATTW (plus some visual pieces :]). These will be posted individually and linked here as they get released.

3/31/25 EDIT: The information above is somewhat outdated! The idea of having to write 20+ song covers has been kind of killing my motivation for this project, so I've decided I will only be writing the covers I'm confident and interested in. However, the full tracklist with notes on what happens in each song will be posted soon[ish] and hyperlinked here when it's finished so you all still get the full storyline :]

While HMSW still exist with the same vague concepts and color themes, they do diverge a decent bit from the original CCCC album and I would not consider them to be representations of canon HMSW (or of any real people, including Whole /srs). Ref sheets have been posted and are linked in each character's name.

Important overall info: 

- HMS exists in a sort of parallel reality I’m calling Marybell (as a reference to Suburbia Overture as well as The Prescription). It’s a town within Will’s psyche that reflects his reality. It can change depending on his state of mind/current situation, and pretty much only exists to provide a physical space for HMS.

- Time loop!! Soul remembers every loop and knows the vague events that happen when Will is whole (though the memories are less clear than when he’s split). Heart and Mind don’t remember previous loops and aren’t really aware of anything when HMS is combined. Physical changes caused to any of HMS remain, even when the timeloop resets.

- LI does exist in WWWW! She’s about as significant as she is in CCCC and will probably get at least an intro, if not her own ref sheet at some point. I also have a sort of Darrell-equivelant which will probably get his own thing at some point as well.

Meet the cast: 

All characters have multiple names which can/will be used interchangeably. I’ve included the pronouns I think the characters would use, but you all are welcome to use whatever you’d like for any of them. Run free :3 here are the posts with the ref sheets for each of them - info on its own is below:

William

Jimmy/Laplace/Cotard

Whole:

- Whole/Will/William Racheal McSprout

- In Case I Make It

- He/him (GNC Cis Guy)

- 23-24 years old across the album

- Works at a small grocery/general tourist store

- Makes music as a side hobby. Not that successful lol. He makes decent stuff though - within the AU, the ICIMI covers featured would be considered his original music. 

- Spends his extra money on video games, alcohol, music equipment (sorta, though he mostly borrows shit and uses free programs), and serving cunt (fashion/makeup stuff)

- Not aware of HMS, though they’re aware of him. Mostly just feels a general sense of dissonance during splits, rather than Knowing the presence of these Multiple Actual Guys. Can’t interact with Marybell, same as HMS can’t (directly) interact with the “Real World”.

Soul:

- The Soul/Mr. Capgras/Cotard/Atlas

- He/it

- SELF-iSH

- Whole’s “self” - who he is at his core. His identity and personality at its most raw form. 

- He’s the most in-tune with Will’s actual state of being (health, emotions, etc.) and considers himself to somewhat be William, just separated and with pieces of himself missing. 

- Ultimate goal is to become a Happy Healthy and Alive Whole. Unlike in CCCC, the self-destruction is left more to H/M in this one .

- Knows he needs to get Heart and Mind to work together if he wants to keep William good and well, but he’s growing incredibly tired throughout the loops. He primarily experiences Will’s worst moments and rarely gets a break. Spends most of him life trying to get these. Fuckers. to get along and he’s so incredibly done with both of them. Growing distant, but ultimately does care about H/M on a personal level and really wishes they could all be happy together.

Mind:

- The Mind/Laplace/Al/Marsha/Apollo

- He/she

- The Normal Album

- Whole’s logic, as well as his self-control and calculated decision making. Doing his best to keep Will stable and often doing so to the point of burnout.

- Primarily tries to keep Heart in check, to the point of excessively trying to control it and Soul. Wants to keep Whole productive and functional by any means necessary. 

- At the end of the day, he does want Whole to live a happy life, but (despite keeping up a facade of superiority and strength) fears Heart’s impulsiveness/ erratic nature and feels the need to over-compensate in order to keep Will safe. 

Heart:

- The Heart/Jimmy/Vestal/Artemis

- He/it

- Everything Is a Lot

- Whole’s emotions, as well as his impulsiveness and indulgence. Sometimes joy-seeking, sometimes self-destructive. Often those two go hand in hand.

- Focused on breaking free from Mind’s controlling nature, trying to get her and Soul to “live a little”. Wants to allow Whole unbridled indulgence (in every whim and emotion, including negative) often to the point of self-destruction. 

- Ultimately knows he’s wrecking Will, but finds it’s the only way he knows to soothe his suffering. He knows Mind is right about them needing to get their shit together, but finds him difficult to work with and listen to when he’s so excessively overbearing. 

Tags:

Everything about this AU will be listed under the tags #wwww au and #william’s wanton weary wiles. 

Additional tags (color-coded according to character): #William Racheal McSprout, #Jimmy wwww, #Al wwww, and #Mr. Capgras wwww

[dailymanners]

I'm currently running low on fresh, original ideas. Sometimes inspiration strikes me, but lately it hasn't been much.

So this is a call to say that if you have been thinking about sending in a submission, now would be a good time to do that. Here's a handy link to my submission box.

Or, if you feel shy about writing an original post into the submission box but you have an idea you'd like me to write about, you can feel free to message me about it.

I've had this blog set to daily posts for a year now, and I'm starting to wonder how finite the number of manners there are in the world and what'll happen when I run out. I guess I could just re-queue the posts I already have since I already have several hundred original posts, so if I queue those in an endless loop each post would only pop up a few times a year, so the content would still be kinda fresh for a lot of people most of the time unless you've already gone through this whole blog.

Right now I'd like to think it doesn't have to come to that yet. I'm sure there are an infinite number of ways we can all be more thoughtful and considerate to everyone around us, and I just happen to be running low on inspiration lately.

[hermitadaymay]

That's a wrap!

An enormous thank you to everyone who created, donated, or even just enjoyed the art for the month! This was truly an event like no other before it. Doc shouted us out in two videos. Joe reblogged Juppet Little Mermaid. And we raised $1,222 for Gamers Outreach in a totally fan-run fundraiser! That's more than a third of all the purchase, assembly, delivery, and running costs for a GO Kart!

Final shoutouts

Not Alice (who will be receiving a commission reward!), sefif, Kat, and blabberwock all donated on the final day of the fundraiser!

And thank you once again to the rest of the 32 individuals, plus anons, who donated this month! Whether you donated one dollar or a hundred, I promise all your contributions were seen and appreciated.

What's next?

While the event itself has come to an official close, there's still more to be done in this next month:

After a short break, I will begin the June Queue, automatically reblogging all missed or late submissions at a queue rate of 30 per day. As I will not be leaving specific commentary on any June Queue post, I encourage everyone else to keep leaving kind words for the artists in the comments and tags :)

Rae will be finishing up the commission rewards over the next couple weeks - keep an eye out for them!

Maybe most excitingly, Belmarzi will be starting work on an 80-second animatic in celebration of reaching our $1,200 milestone! It might take a while, but we'll keep you all in the loop, I promise.

Once all that's well settled, probably in July or August, I'm going to be releasing another survey to hear what you thought about this event and what you want to see for next year. But you don't need to wait until that to send me your thoughts! Please ping me in any wrap-ups or retrospectives you post, and feel free to send me asks with any other thoughts you'd like to share (though I will say ahead of time not to worry about me; I will have another mod next year :P )!

Thank you

It's been an honor and a pleasure to hold this event and celebrate the Hermits with all of you for the second year in a row. As always, you can reach me at any time through the year in the inbox, on my main blog @as-if-unreal, or through the Welsknight Patreon discord.

With all the love,

-Mod Luna

[kingthreshie-official]

The body not even being cold or done dying before disney decided to pack it up, put out new maps, and start the monsters inc hype train is. Heinous to a degree.

I dont think anyone is opposed to attractions being shelved and changed for new experiences, But the majority of MuppetVisions issues were not only self inflicted BY DISNEY (Turning what used to be a full loop into a bottleneck bc of galaxy's Edge, shutting down the gift shop post covid which drew people to the back of the courtyard in its place, not having additional amenities like Pizzerizzo or the fountain operational unless at peak times) But also, there will be no lesson learned at the end of this. They have no intention to release the muppet vision footage for the public, Disney+ has practically a movie graveyard of films it "owns" but never shows. The concept art for monsters lacks ANY of galaxies edge so they are either trying to IGNORE AWAY THE BOTTLENECK or IGNORE ITS UGLY ASS SIGHTLINE. The ideas also been an intensely popular dream on forums since the early internet, and the image that people have made of that door coaster cannot in any way line up with the reality of making a safe suspended coaster with that particular illusion that will have consistent up time!

And Disney fans who want their favorite IPs to have an attraction or... Anything in the park, tend to handwave these concerns with "Walt Disney would've moved forward and not cared about sentiment!"

You're right. You know what Walt also did? Moved forward by learning from his mistakes. A MAJORITY of these new changes do not bother to learn from what made people engage with these attractions or not, a lot of them are so Jaded and Vile that it's constant and never ending repetitions of Journey into imagination with figment's tragedy over and Over again. If not that one than Frozen Ever Afters. They take these things which operated normally and turn them into non optimized junk that can't stay up or if it does it was clearly made for the PAYCHECK.

And THATS what pisses me off. The lack of dedicated love and care by craftsman on current and future projects. MuppetVision had painstaking detail in its show, it's animatronics, it's Queue, EVERYTHING. it ran fine, was it a little low tech? Yeah! But is a high tech animatronic worth it's salt if it's hardly ever in A mode or Convincing B mode? Or are we just witnessing a multimillion dollar statue with no purpose?

[trickphotography2]

Overtime

It was just supposed to be a football game. But then Hangman took Syla up on her invitation to watch the Blue Angels perform at the Miramar air show. A month after meeting and facing the last home show of her career, the history making Naval Aviator invited Hangman to visit her in Pensacola. She didn't actually expect him to accept. Payback definitely wasn't happy.

A continuation of First and Goal. This got away from me at 5.1K words. No physical description of the reader, callsign is Syla (pronounced like Cilla) and she's a Florida State fan.

Cross-posted on Ao3.

-------------------------------------------------------

The humidity hit Jake in the face as he exited the Pensacola airport. His eyes darted up and then to the line of cars. “I’m under the Delta sign.”

“Okay, I’m pulling out of the cellphone lot,” Syla said. He heard her humming and felt his lip twitch. Over the month they’d been talking, he’d heard it many, many times, usually when she was focused on something. Once, when they’d done a video call while she was in Oregon, he’d asked her if she hummed while flying and was promptly flipped off. “I...think I see you.” The call disconnected as a blue convertible Mini Cooper stopped in front of him. Payback scowled, elbowing him out of the way as Syla got out and circled the car. 

“Reuben!” she squealed. Jake rolled his eyes, grabbing the other man’s bag as he hugged Syla, lifting her off her feet. Payback hadn’t been thrilled to find out he wasn’t the only one who had requested leave to head down to Florida for the Blue Angels homecoming show. Hell, Syla had been surprised when Jake had quickly accepted her half-joking invitation.

Jake had gone to the show in Miramar. It was his first time seeing them since their flyover at his Academy graduation, which he’d only half paid attention to back then. The Blue Angels were good PR for the Navy but had never caught his attention - pilots stuck repeating the same maneuvers every time? Sounded almost as bad as being assigned to desk duty. He'd take dog fighting every time if given the choice between it and the flying equivalent of synchronized swimming. But, after going through flight school and some experience with formation flying, he had a new respect for the Angels. 

The way Syla filled out her tight blue flight suit definitely didn’t hurt matters. Jake had managed to get close enough to watch the team march in a line to their jets and climb in, trading out their caps for helmets before taxiing and taking off in formation. For an hour, he watched them execute loops, inversions, pitches, and breaks. After the show, he’d joined the queue for her autograph and grinned at her surprised look. As she signed the team picture, he asked her about not wearing a g-suit that helped keep blood from pooling in the lower extremities and forced it toward the brain. From his estimation, they were pulling at least 7Gs at points.

“Can’t,” Syla had shrugged. “We have our right arm on our thigh for stability and to help with the 40-pound spring tensioned on the stick. Air bladders would inflate at the worst time and ruin the maneuver. ‘Sides, since we fly it constantly, we know when to tense to avoid G-LOC.” Sliding her aviators down her nose, the Blue Angel smirked and slid the picture across the table to him. “Good to see you again, Hangman.” 

Her phone number was under her loopy signature. 

“Hey,” Jake said when she turned her attention to him, eyebrow raised over her sunglasses. Crossing her arms over her chest, forcing her breasts higher into the tank top she wore, Syla cocked her hip. 

“I have so many questions. First - what the hell is with the pornstache?” Grinning, Jake ran a hand over his mustache. 

“Don’t like it?”

“You look like the other guy in your squad… um…” she snapped her fingers, glancing at Payback.

“Rooster.”

“Rooster! That’s right. He can pull off a mustache.”

“I make a mustache look good,” he chuckled, dropping the bags into the open trunk. Shaking her head, she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his waist. 

“Jury’s out. Also, people are gonna think you’re a Gator or Canes fan in that orange.”

“Hook ‘em, baby.” Over her head, Jake caught Payback’s eye roll.

“Alright,” Syla said, stepping out of his loose embrace and slamming the trunk closed. “Get in so we can go grab dinner. I’m starving.” 

“Please tell me we’re getting some seafood,” Payback moaned, beelining for the front seat. Jake rolled his eyes, following Syla around the car and pulling open the door for her before ducking into the back seat. His knees pressed into her seat, and he shifted to try and get more comfortable. 

The two aviators chatted while Syla pulled out of the airport and drove through Pensacola. It had been years since Jake had been back. Like many Naval aviators, his career had begun at a local flight school while stationed at NAS Whiting Field, just across the bridge and a couple of miles down I-10 in Milton. While he’d enjoyed his time at Annapolis during the Academy, it had been fun to cut loose and spend weekends on the white sand beaches, flirting with tourists and drinking at dive bars. But after he’d moved on to Intermediate Flight Training, he’d never looked back. North Florida had little appeal for him. If he had to be stationed in the state, he would go for the Keys.

“You good back there, Hangman?” Syla asked, pulling him from his musing. She’d twisted in her seat, strands of hair that had escaped her regulation bun framing her face.

“All good, just looking at how much it’s changed.” She smiled, turning back around when the light turned green.

After grabbing dinner by the beach at a local spot called The Oar House, the trio made their way to Syla’s place. It was a cute little white house with a red - “garnet,” she’d corrected - door. As another condition of his coming, Payback claimed the one guest bedroom while Jake was relegated to the couch. 

It helped to know that Payback only had the bed for one night and would join him in sleeping in the living room when Syla’s parents arrived the next day. 

So, while Payback went to bed early to call his kid, Jake and Syla hung out. At first, there had been some initial awkwardness, trying to navigate a friendship conducted mainly over the phone. It didn’t take long until Jake found himself itching to tuck her hair, free from the tight bun and damp from her shower, behind her ear. 

“Okay, I have to know,” she said, setting her glass on the coffee table before facing him. Propping her elbow against the back of the couch, she buried a hand in her hair and smirked. “What’s with the mustache? You weren’t deployed, so it’s not a deployment ‘stache. Or is this like a normal thing for you?”

“Definitely not a normal thing for me,” he chuckled, setting his beer on the coffee table and turning to mirror her. At her cocked eyebrow, he shrugged. “Payback.” 

“Are we talking Reuben or revenge for something?”

“A bit of both. He’s real protective of you and wasn’t happy to hear that we’ve been talking. Or that I was coming here.”

“Oh god, are you telling me you look like that because of me?” She let her head fall back at his shrug while taking a deep breath. The move pulled her sleep shirt tight against her chest, and he could see her pebbled nipples through the material. “I’m gonna kill him.” 

“It’s fine.” And it was. It was worth it if this was the penalty for violating the bro code - as the rest of the Daggers had ruled when they found out about his contact with Syla. 

“Your pretty face shouldn’t be sacrificed for his petty male ego.” 

“You think I’m pretty?” Jake teased. Syla lowered her head and gave him an unimpressed look. With a huff, she ran her thumb over his mustache. 

“When you don’t have a fuzzy caterpillar on your face.” Amusement sparkled in his green eyes when Syla raised hers from his mouth to meet his. Her fingers rasped on his stubble as they glided across his jaw. Jake watched, biting back a groan when she played with the hair on the nape of his neck. Gentle pressure guided him closer as her tongue darted to wet her lips. A smirk curved his mouth as his gaze narrowed to hers. 

A throat cleared, and Syla jumped, her hand falling to her lap. Payback stood beside the television, arms crossed over his chest. “Am I interrupting something?” he asked. 

“Absolutely,” Syla replied, even as pink dusted her cheeks. Payback’s eyes darted to Jake, who shrugged. “Oh no - this is not… If you have a problem with me talking to Jake, you’ll talk to me about it, Reuben.” 

“Okay. I don’t like it. You don’t know Hangman.” 

“Cool. Good to know. That’s part of why we’re talking - to get to know one another.” He groaned her name, running a hand down his face. 

“He’s got a reputation in Miramar.” Jake flushed with embarrassment. Sure, he enjoyed a one-night stand, but he hadn’t had one in a while. Definitely not since he’d started talking to the pilot beside him.

“So you’re telling me he knows what he’s doing and can probably find the clit. That’s great to know.” Both men sputtered, and Syla laughed. “In case you haven’t noticed, Payback, I’m not the 22-year-old girl you met. And as much as I appreciate you looking out for me, I’m a pretty good judge of character. So if I want to talk to Jake, kiss him, and maybe have sex, that’s our decision.” Patting Jake’s shoulder, she stood and gave Payback a sweet smile. “And with that, gentlemen, I’m going to go to bed since I have work in the morning. You know, where I’m a history-making Naval aviator whose judgment is tested and proven every day that I’m in the air flying inches away from other aviators, where one small deviation could mean death for either of us. Night boys.”

The two men watched Syla walk to the hallway, pausing to pat Payback’s chest and closing her bedroom door. 

Jake fell a little bit in love.

“Morning,” Jake said, his voice rough with sleep. Syla smiled and waved, continuing towards the kitchen where the coffee pot gurgled. Scrubbing a hand through his hair, he joined her, taking the mug she slid across the counter and leaning against the stove, scratching his bare chest. 

“How’d you sleep?” she asked.

“Not the worst place I’ve bunked.”

“It’s a step above the carrier.” He smiled over the rim of his mug. He’d never dated a woman in the military and never would have even thought about pursuing another aviator. Sure, he enjoyed flirting with Phoenix to get a rise out of her, but their careers overlapped too much for him to ever think about pursuing anything. Plus, Rooster would kill him if he ever worked up the nerve to admit his feelings about his “best friend.”

But there was something comforting about talking with Syla. Over the last month, he’d enjoyed not having to explain things in his daily life. No explanation was needed when he rescheduled calls because he was doing late maneuvers. Honestly, she was the one doing the rescheduling more often than not. She was also the one who fell asleep when they were on the phone. He’d never admit it, but Jake usually stayed on the line for a few more minutes, listening to her soft breathing and half-heartedly hoping she’d wake before hanging up. 

“What’s your day look like?” he asked. Syla frowned and stepped past him to look at the calendar hanging on the refrigerator. 

“We’re briefing the show this morning and then going to a middle school. Not sure if we’re doing the interview there or if the camera crew is just getting footage. Then final dress rehearsal over the Gulf.” There was something sad in her eyes when she turned to meet his gaze. 

“What?”

“I just…” To his surprise, tears gathered in her eyes as she looked up at the ceiling and swallowed. “Sorry, just kinda hitting me that this is it.” Setting his mug down, he opened his arms. Syla rested her head on his shoulder, palms flat on his chest. Jake's hand ran up the back of her flight suit, tugging her closer as he brushed his lips against her temple. When she lifted her head, he kissed her cheek. But when he tried to do it again, she turned to meet him.

Their first kiss was a sweet one. Syla’s hands drifted up his chest to wrap around the back of his neck and tug him down as she surged onto her toes. He steadied her with hands on her hips, gripping the blue fabric tightly as she licked into his mouth. A groan escaped him as she smiled. The mustache prickled against her skin. 

“It’s too early for this.” 

“Morning, Reuben,” Syla sighed, dropping back onto her heels and resting her forehead against Jake’s chin. Slowly, she pulled away and looked at her friend. “Sleep well?”

“Other than a nightmare, yeah.” Chuckling, she stepped out of Jake’s arms and grabbed her travel coffee mug. 

“Duke is gonna pick me up so you can have my car for the day. I’ll be home around 5:30 or 6:00. My parent should be here around that time, too, so we’ll go out for dinner. I have to have an early night for the show tomorrow, but we can take two cars so you can have fun downtown.” The flight leader was happy to help her with a ride, seeing as he lived down the street. 

“An early night sounds good to me,” Jake nodded. 

“Great. Duke’s pulling up, so I’m headed out.” With a quick peck to both men’s cheeks, she left.

“You’re an ass,” Payback grumbled while opening the cabinets for a mug. Ignoring him, Jake returned to the couch and grabbed his cell phone, quickly pulling up their text thread.

Can confirm I know where the clit is

A few minutes later came her reply.

Seeing is believing

Syla woke early and pulled on her running gear. It was hard to sneak out of the house with the two aviators crashing in the living room, but she managed it. After slipping her earbuds in, she started her pre-show tradition of a five-mile run while mentally practicing the flight maneuvers. Hands clenched in front of her, she imagined Duke’s voice and positioned the stick and throttle. Deployed the smoke that allowed the crowd to follow them as they climbed. She would have the privilege of a sneak attack on the beach, buzzing the crowd who watched her wingmen fly ahead. 

Even after three seasons, every show made her nervous. And performing in front of the hometown crowd, while amazing, brought its own level of pressure. North Florida was the home to a huge military population. These people saw them the most - they practiced over the Naval Aviation Museum twice weekly and signed autographs. Hell, there was a sign as you got into town that said ‘Home of the Blue Angels.’ Pensacola had the Blue Angels, Corry Station, and Whiting Field, where many aviation careers started. The Air Force had three bases just an hour up the road - Hurlburt Field, Duke Field, and Eglin. Eglin had its own place in military aviation history, as it was where the pilots of the Doolittle Raid - the US’s retaliation on Japan following Pearl Harbor, where modified bombers had launched from the USS Hornet with no fighters as backup - had trained. The Air Force had their own fighter and test wings stationed there, and the Army was training special forces.

Further out were the two bases in Panama City - the Naval Support Activity Panama City and Tyndall Air Force Base, which housed their own fighter wing. That wasn’t even considering all of the veterans in the area. Syla had briefly dated someone who worked for the Veteran’s Administration, who had told her that the Gulf Coast was one of the fastest-growing areas for vets. 

So yeah, hometown shows made her nervous. And her dumb ass had invited a certain Lieutenant, who made her even more nervous. Who she outranked. As a Lieutenant Commander, she was responsible for ensuring they didn’t break any fraternization rules. And even though Jake wouldn’t be under her command - the Daggers were stationed at Miramar under TOPGUN but were not instructors - they might still get some looks.

Which was presuming that Jake even wanted something other than a fling. Panting, Syla stopped running and bent, wiping away the sweat on her brow. Even this early, the humidity was killer. “Fucking focus,” she ordered herself. 

There was nothing like an airshow. From the moment Syla stepped onto the tarmac, the energy was electric. For her last home show, they’d picked the theme of Celebrating Women in Aviation, focusing on the Women Airforce Service Pilots (WASPS) that began in WWII when the US needed pilots. Women could join the military to ferry, test, and deliver planes for repair. 

From the civilian aerobatic pilots to the Air Force’s Viper and F-35 demo teams and the explosive Tora Tora Tora reenactment, there was something for everyone. She joined her parents, Reuben, and Jake after the Angels’ morning briefing. While her parents and Reuben stayed in the tent, she and Jake did a quick walk around, pausing so she could sign autographs and take pictures. She was glad her sunglasses were on when a little girl traced over her embroidered wings and said she wanted to be a pilot, too. Jake’s fingers brushed hers as they walked, and she fought a smile. 

And then it was show time. Syla forced herself to focus on the moment. Doing anything else would endanger the team and her aircraft. So, she focused on saluting her flight crew and doing her checks. She wasn’t part of the diamond take-off formation but would be doing a high G vertical climb into an inversion. And then she thought about Duke’s final order - “Have fun.” 

So she did. She allowed herself to smile as she fought against gravity, admired the beautiful ocean she flew over, and laughed at the startled crowd as she executed the sneak pass. 

And yes, she did hum while doing it. 

Sunday was harder. Syla woke up early for her run and was surprised to find Jake awake in the kitchen, shirtless and wearing running shorts and sneakers. He joined her, her extra reflective belt wrapped around his bicep. It was still dark, their way lit by streetlights and the occasional passing car. Jake glanced over as she ran through the show, hands at her stomach moving the imaginary stick and throttle. 

Everything for her last show needed to be perfect. 

“You’ve got this,” he said when they turned back into her cul de sac. Feeling like a teenager sneaking around, she tugged him around the side of the house and pressed him against the siding. His hands wrapped around her hips, holding her tightly as her hands slid up his sweat-slicked skin to wrap around the back of his neck. It was still dark out, the sun not due to rise for another hour. If her neighbors looked out the glass door in their living room or someone drove past, they would easily be spotted. But that didn’t stop her from pressing against him, feeling his heat through her sports bra and running shorts. 

Jake pressed teasing kisses to her forehead, nose, and cheek before Syla gripped his hair and kissed him hard. His hand slid to her ass, squeezing and tugging her closer. She could feel his cock through his jogging shorts and dug her nails into his skin to keep from touching him. Nothing in the world would make her jeopardize her career with a public indecency charge. 

When his attention shifted to her neck, licking the salt from her skin, Syla forced herself to push against his shoulders and step back. His grip tightened, not letting her go too far. “Everything okay?” he asked. In the semi-darkness, she could barely make out his confused expression. 

“I need to know,” she said, biting her kiss-swollen lower lip. “I know we’ve only known each other for a month, but am I pissing off one of my best friends for a fling?”

“A fling?” 

“I outrank you, Jake. If there’s blowback, it’s gonna come back on me. Not only because of rank but because I’m a woman. I will always have Blue Angels in my bio, so I will always be held to the highest standard. So I have to know - is this just having fun? Or is this something we want to pursue? Because I’m fine either - ”

Jake’s lips silenced her, his tongue insistently licking into her mouth as he turned them to pin her against the siding with his hips. With his hands braced by her head, he pulled away, smirking when she chased his kiss. One knuckle traced from her temple and swept across her jaw before tilting her head up as he tutted her name. “You think I’d risk pissing off my entire squad for a fling? If I wanted that, I would have just waited for you to get to Miramar instead of coming out here, annoying Payback, and meeting your parents. This is my first vacation in years, and I wanted to spend time alone with you. If you want this to be a fling - ”

“I don’t.” 

“Good. Cause I don’t either.” They stood there, smiling at one another for a long moment until they heard a dog bark. Shoving him away, Syla turned and waved at her neighbor as he stepped out of the house across the street, dressed for his own morning run. Taking Jake’s hand, she tugged him back towards the front door, enjoying how he pressed himself against her back as she unlocked it. “Just wait until we’re alone, and I’ll show you just how well I can find your clit,” he growled in her ear as she gripped the doorknob.

“Just out of curiosity,” she said, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Did you tell Reuben that you were staying for a week? Or does he think you’re flying out tonight, too?”

“Now, where would the fun be in telling him?” Jake asked. Syla laughed, turning in his embrace to pat his cheek. 

“It’s your funeral, Hangman.” His grin was blinding as he leaned down to kiss her.

“What a hell of a reason to go.”

Emotion nearly choked her as Syla drove down Blue Angel Parkway toward the base. She’d left her parents to drive the other aviators in, wanting some time alone that morning. The squad had invited her guests to watch the last briefing of the season so they wouldn’t be too far behind. Reuben or Jake would be able to get her parents on base. While the air show gates didn’t open until 8:00AM, a few cars were already waiting at the Visitor Control building’s parking lot. After flashing her ID to the gate guard, she made her way to the hanger to quickly inspect her plane. Their flight mechanics were among the best in the world, and Syla trusted them with her life, but you could never be too careful. Once assured that everything was fine, she made her way to the briefing room, pausing to talk to some of the other early birds and to grab a shitty cup of coffee from the break room. Rather than take her seat, she took the opportunity to read the plaques that decorated the walls, running her finger over her name engraved on the list of pilots. 

“Big day, Syla. You ready for it?” Duke asked, coming into the briefing room and standing beside her. She glanced up at him and rolled her lips together, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat. 

“As I’ll ever be,” she replied hoarsely. 

“One more flight, and then you’re back in the greens,” he chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and tugging her close. 

“I look so much better in blue,” she smirked, glancing down at her flight suit. After three years, going back to a green suit that didn’t have her name and plane number embroidered on her chest, that had a different squadron patch, would be strange. This wasn’t the first time she’d left a squad, but it definitely was the hardest. Their team, from the flight and ground crew to the Marine pilots that flew Fat Albert, the C-130J that carried the crew show to show, spent so much time together. From January to November, they saw each other every day - on Thursdays, they flew out to the show location and returned to Pensacola on Mondays; Tuesdays and Wednesdays were practice days. For three years, Syla had celebrated birthdays, anniversaries, new babies, and graduations with these folks. She’d babysat for their kids and hung out at their houses. They had gotten her drunk to celebrate her promotion before dragging her to the beach and tossing her into the Gulf in her whites - she made sure that they also got drenched - and teased her relentlessly whenever she dated someone. 

The other squad members slowly filed in, and Syla was subjected to brotherly teasing. When her guests arrived, she introduced Jake and Reuben by their callsigns. The looks her squad sent her when Hangman shook their hands were priceless - they’d seen his name pop up on her phone more than a few times. The corner of Jake’s eye twitched at every shake, making her wonder if they were squeezing his hand harder than necessary. Payback looked happy at the cooler welcome the other pilot got. 

“Alright,” the flight leader said once everyone had taken their seat around the table, him at the head. Crew and her guests sat along the wall. “We’ll leave the sentimental stuff for the boat party later, but as you all know, this is Syla’s last flight with us. And while we’re excited to welcome Lieutenant Commander Reyes in a few months, she will have big shoes to fill. So we’ll be perfect today, not only for Syla but for our hometown crowd. I want the debrief to be short this afternoon so we can go celebrate another successful season and get some downtime. Now, conditions today allow for the high show…” Syla opened her folder and retrieved the aerial map of Pensacola as he read out the wind and view data. The tip of her pen traced the maneuvers they would go through, as he called them.

She could feel eyes on her as they pushed away from the table and did a chair flight, Duke’s comforting cadence helping her block out everything else. Her own eyes remained closed as they talked through the flight, visualizing and practicing the throttles and stick positions, where they would have pull on the stick, tensing to fight the Gs, her calls on the radio, turning to check the alignment of their synchronized ascent into the loop, deploying smoke - every second of the 45-minute show.  

And when she opened her eyes, they caught on a pair of green ones that stared at her from across the room. The corner of Jake’s mouth twitched as he gave a curt nod. Beside him, her parents beamed. Payback sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest and grinned. 

Syla couldn’t help the tears that fell as she taxied back into position. Even over her engine, she could hear the crowd cheering as they announced her name and thanked her for her years of flying with the Blues. As the canopy rose, she swiped at her face and took a deep breath. 

It was over. 

After three years, she was now returning to the fleet. She would be assigned a new Super Hornet, grey instead of bright blue, with her name and callsign painted below the canopy. The next few months would be spent reviewing tactical and weapons updates, and she’d have a few weeks to refresh her air combat skills before taking on her first TOPGUN class. She was pretty sure that she'd spend some time with the meatball, the machine that helped baby aviators learn the dimensions of the ship's flight line; she felt rusty even with over 600 carrier landings under her belt. 

Thankfully, she was sure there was an active-duty pilot who would be more than happy to help her study.

“You good?” Syla looked up at her crew chief and nodded at the woman. Quickly, she handed over the helmet, realizing it would be one of the last times she wore it. Soon, she would be back in her garnet one with gold arrows - her nod to her alma mater. After smoothing down her hair, she put her cover back on and prepared to exit the cockpit. 

Three years. Over 900 days on the road. Hundreds of hours in the air. 

It was over.

A Week Later

Fanboy glanced at his phone, frowning at the text from Hangman. The Miami game was on a commercial break, so he quickly opened it and saw it was a video. 

He recognized the place immediately - Florida State’s football stadium. Doak Campbell. Fucking Hangman was at the Miami-FSU game. Hangman panned the camera around the stadium, and Fanboy realized he was standing on the field. In the endzone. The announcer’s voice was a bit muffled but became clearer as Hangman refocused the camera on Syla. 

“Callsign Syla made history as the first female aviator on the Blue Angels, carrying on the proud FSU tradition of excellence. Let’s give a loud welcome home to Syla!”

The crowd roared, chants of “USA” echoing as Syla held up her hands and waved before doing the tomahawk chop. In the background, he saw that she was being broadcast on the jumbotron. As it cut away, she held her hands up again. She brought her thumbs together to form the University of Miami ‘U’ symbol before dropping all but her middle fingers. The student section started a chant of ‘Fuck U’ as she laughed. 

“Fuck Miami!” Syla grinned. 

“Fuck Miami!” Hangman echoed, swinging the camera around to show himself flipping off the camera, that god-awful mustache still on his face. For once, he wasn’t wearing Texas gear but had swapped it out for a Seminoles cap and t-shirt. 

Oh, Fanboy thought. He was definitely gonna have to deal with way more bro code violations once he got back. Especially after he forgot to turn off the recording before kissing Syla. 

Fanboy debated forwarding it to the group chat but decided against it. Having a bit of blackmail was never a bad thing.

The group chat started popping off in the 4th quarter. 

What the fuck is this? Payback fired off, sharing a picture of Hangman with his arm around Syla and their back to the field. Her hand rested on his stomach. 

Damn, Rooster replied. Phoenix added a gif of Stephen Colbert eating popcorn.

Looks like fun, Bob added. 

Fuck the Noles, Fanboy typed out.

Is no one bothered by this??? Payback demanded. The chat went silent until Hangman’s name popped up.

Syla here. Two things - 1) Fuck Miami, and 2) I’m begging you to let the man shave the fucking mustache. Facial hair is not my thing.

---------------------------------------------------

Note: I didn't expect to write a follow up to First and Goal, but I also didn't expect the engagement with it. Thank you to everyone who read it. A major thank you to @mayhemmanaged for helping talk me through this fic and reading a rough draft of it. And @dreamlandcreations for saying she wanted a part 2.

The North Florida panhandle has a huge military population. I recently moved away from the Gulf Coast, after my dad was stationed at Eglin AFB. That is where I first got to see a jet engine up close and see how beautiful the afterburner could be. It's where I went to my first stateside air show. I completed an internship at the VA in Pensacola, and was able to see the Blue Angels fly every week. Like Jake, I didn't really appreciate the panhandle until I left. There's nothing like shifting from pine trees to an ocean view as you cross the I-10 bridge, going from Whiting Field to Pensacola.

Like Syla, I'm a diehard Seminole, graduating from there a total of 4 times. I actually stole her flight leader's callsign, Duke, from a guy I went to high school and college with, who flies for the Air Force.

So long story short, this fic was inspired by aviation and Lieutenant Commander Amanda 'Stalin' Lee, the first female Blue Angel. Thanks for reading ❤️

Tagging those who reblogged and commented on First and Goal:

kmc1989; gigisimsonmars; starset21; the-slytherin-library-12; ssa-sadboi; fanficfandomlove; shanimallina87; myfaveficrecs; roosterforme; thefandomimagines; dreamlandcreations; topherwrites; roosteraloha; tgmreader; love-in-light; starlightmoon2020; clockworkballerina; bibissparkles; top-hhun; just-in-case-iloveyou; scarlettwidow19; themusingofagothicsoul; milani-marie; rooseresintg; lets-turn-and-burn; bellaireland1981; shanimallina87; sydthekid1518; gspenc; mimi-8793; novagreen04; fulla02reads; alldaysdreamers; atarmychick007; onceupona-happilyeverafter-love; rosiahills22

[sincerely-sofie]

I’m a skeleton gal who likes to draw and write! Currently I’m posting chapters of Better the Wool!

Find Me Here: KoFi | RedBubble | Ao3 | YouTube | Twitch | BlueSky | Sideblog

Featured Tags: #Stuff by Sofie (Tag for my creations) | #Sofie Says Stuff (Tag for my rambles) | #Sofie Answers Asks (Tag for responses to my inbox) | #Obbyposting (Tag for raving about how awesome my boyfriend is)

You can read more about me, my projects, and what I’m up to under the cut!

About Me:

I'm a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints!

I’m interested in writing, making webcomics, game dev, 2D animation, character design, programming, singing, small business management, self-improvement, and all around way too many crafting mediums to count.

I like green, bugs, hot chocolate, kawaii future bass music, video essays, Ooblets, and Animal Crossing.

I have a pet blue death feigning beetle named Gamer Girl, sometimes fondly referred to as GG!

I make a lot of things. This blog is a way for me to record the various projects I create on my journey to be unashamedly sincere!

Some of My Projects:

Better the Wool: A Cult of the Lamb AU focusing on the Lamb and her relationship with Narinder as she works to resurrect the Sheep killed by the Old Faith. Has a dedicated tag on my blog.

The Present is a Gift: A finished, but still semi-active, post-credits AU and fanfic for Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Sky which focuses on the hero taking in an amnesiac Darkrai. Has a dedicated tag on my blog. Also has a dedicated sideblog for chapters and can be found on Ao3, Tumblr, PMD Fanfiction, and Wattpad through there!

Mortality Exchange: A collection of “What-if” scenarios based on a piece of worldbuilding in my Pokemon Mystery Dungeon fanworks— if a Legendary pokemon dies, a nearby mortal pokemon will inherit their powers and immortality. Has a dedicated tag on my blog. There are no plans to make a long-form storytelling project of this.

Dugtrio Day: A time loop AU for Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Sky that stars a prickly Eevee hero, a sociable Treecko partner, and a nihlistic Celebi. Has a dedicated tag on my blog. There are currently no plans to make a long-form storytelling project of this.

Common Questions:

My inbox is always open if you want to ask or send something in! I like to queue up responses to things sent into my inbox, though, so sometimes they take a while to get posted. You can always send a DM or additional ask about the state of the thing you sent in if you’re curious!

I don’t mind being tagged in things. It’s a great way to make sure I see something :>

Fanart and other works based on my AUs, original work, and persona are all things I love to see! If you ever make something along those lines, send me a pic or the link to where it’s posted! I’d love to be able to shout it out if possible!

If you want to voice act / do a dub of my work, the same rules apply from the above bullet point! I’d love to see it! Send me the link! However, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t use AI to dub over my work. I’ve had my work stolen for use in AI dubs in the past, and I’d really like to avoid the stress of that happening again.

If you’re curious about something, send in a question, whether anonymously or not! You don’t need to be nervous or shy about it. I’m a pretty chill gal— I promise I won’t bite!

[heavilyironized]

was feeling uninspired about gabias then vanessa carlton made her way into my spotify queue. to buy us,,, you know i would walk a thousand miles if i could just .. see you.. tonight. Like yeah gabin would probably hear that for the first time somehow after tobias leaves paris for new york. and he would probably cry into his pillow and loop the song over and over i think. then he pathetically posts an ig story with the lyrics playing over the screen and mishi hearts it. tobias. have you ever heard of this.. making my way downtown... walking fast faces pass and i'm homebound 💔

[kissalopa]

My queue for Summer's gameplay is running out today. I ran into problems with my game 😭

I have plenty of screenshots for my Sims 3 lepacy that I accumulated since september (when I started playing it again). So I want to post these for now.

Here are links to my Sims 3 Goth LePacy if you want to check it out Chrono / Latest

Also if you're not interested in Sims 3, you can block any tag I use for this gameplay and you won't see it. I don't mind, we all need to curate our dahses ☺️

I put a more detailed explanation of what is happening with my Sims 4 game under the cut, if anyone is interested or maybe even have some suggestions. But be aware it's a long rant.

My Summer save is glitched in a way when everything kinda freezes. Sims and animals are stuck in their idle animations, world is moving (clouds, vehicles, ect.), but UI is unresponsive. I can't click on anything, if I try to exit or save then I get a white screen. The only way to exit is through task manager.

I was getting the same glitch in my crystal creations save, but there I was also getting an LE that said something about jewelry, so I thought it was glitching because of the crafted jewelry. I removed all crafted jewelry from my sims and with time that glitch was gone.

Also it was happening at random times, while in Summer's save it freezes at the exact moment (something like 12am after Summer's birthday). I even tried loading into another household in the same save and my game went into that looping freeze again.

Every time I load a game I am getting a BE about a broken trait mod, but the list that better exceptions generates is empty. I assume that's because I don't have custom traits in my game.

So the problem lies somewhere with mods or cc. But I can't find it. Because even if I take everything out (only leaving in Better Exceptions) I am still getting a BE.

I have no idea how to fix this. And tbh this time it's so discouraging. I'm not even excited for the new pack 😭

The only thought I have on how to fix this is to use less mods and cc. I already deleted a lot, but it's hard to get rid of it. I think it will be easier to just start from scratch then trying to reduce the amount I have.

[oacest]

hii oacest scholars!! i have been recently reading a lot of your blog and asks (also those fic recs are god tier!!!) and i was curious about the history of this collective account and how it came about? and thank you for all the (frankly prize worthy) work you do!!!

WELL. funny story lol. the three of us have a mutual friend (who prefers to remain nameless so shall henceforth be called Friend of the Blog, aka fotb) who got hella into oasis about two years ago. we chortled! we smirked! we even pointed and laughed! "the wonderwall band??" we said. "how incredibly cringe. okay girl go with god!" (obvs we are all north americans lmao.) a year passed. then i (trill) saw this post randomly on my dash and went Wait What..?? a brief investigation revealed the loch lomond kiss, which i sent to jackie, my regular partner in crime. she went "omg let me check with fotb to see if this is anything 👀." it was indeed Something, and fotb hooked us up with a selection of primers, fic recs, and blog suggestions. jackie, who doesn't usually like incest but is a good bro (if you will...), looped in the third of our triumvirate, bal. they watched supersonic together that same morning on a whim, after which bal furtively went off to read all the aforementioned primers and recs. a week later i had glanced at the provided material, shrugged, and moved on with my life. bal however saw the writing on the wall. jackie and i spent a week pointing and laughing at HER. (bal: to which i retaliated with a devastating dripdripdrip of insanely compelling details about the brothers).

[for the purposes of this post's historical accuracy, jackie spent about an hour backscrolling through tumblr's horrid chat to find and screenshot our (restrospectively hilarious) Very First Exchange about it, for posterity]:

(shoutout to me equating larry with mclennon + jackie instantly namedropping the mcpoyles 💀. well at least we have gerard and mikey.)

finally jackie weakened and one day i received a tremulous message.... "UH OH!" it said (spiritually, not literally). then it was only me pointing and laughing, alone in the world 😔. PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME READ FICS i cried, but alas. i was made to read fics. the deal was sealed. a week after that i realised we could start a shared blog together in order to collect and organise the massive amount of mind-shattering information we were absorbing at breakneck speed. jackie, pun queen criminal, remarked "why is it called gcest when oacest is right there?" and against all odds that url was free. bal's indomitable scholastic spirit kicked in. a queue and a tag system emerged. archive dot org received a 3000% increase in oasis-based searches. it was all down(?)hill from there.

[a few additional screenshots that span across the following couple of weeks, illustrating the humiliating heel turn that occurred]:

we joke ("joke") that we're in a polycule with oasis, bc we all fell insanely catastrophically in love with it in exactly the same way and to the same life-altering degree. the sort of crazed infatuation where you can't eat, can't sleep, can't think about ANYTHING else. our various latent drinking and smoking habits went into panicked self-medicating overdrive. we neglected our friends, family, pets, and personal hygiene. i personally spent two weeks with a severe hand tremor and thankfully my actual irl boyfriend happened to choose that particular month to go visit his other partner bc otherwise he would surely have broken up with me for ghosting him (bad poly etiquette on my part smfh). all we did, every day all day, was talk about oasis, watch oasis, think about oasis, dream about oasis, listen to oasis, read about oasis,,,, you get the idea. 🎶 boss makes a dollar, we make a dime, that's why we think about brotherfuckin on company time 🎶. after about five months we had finally juuuuust reached the sort of deeply committed equilibrium where we could start tentatively thinking and caring about other things part-time.

and then august 25th rolled around. :)

[atwas-gaming]

I've been trying to do a theory/prediction video for the Sonic 3 trailer, but I'm not experienced enough at video editing, and I don't have enough footage from the games to support my thoughts, so for this time around, I'm just gonna fill up my queue with posts on my thoughts about the trailer.

Possible references that I've spotted so far:

Rooftop Run?

Longclaw and Sonic on the GHZ loop-de-loop (Also, they're in Sonic's cave)

Prison Island?

Heroes awakening

Not only Shadow's signature roundhouse, but what might be a direct reference to ShTH

The picture itself isn't a specific reference to anything I can remember, but my boi's got his bike!!!

SA2 opening