#South Carolina Graduation

[em-dualism]

Rey, what do you think of carnivorous plants? Have you ever seen them in person?

"Like venus flytraps? They ain't bad, for plants. Wish we'd look at stuff like that more."

"But no, I haven't. I dunno, maybe Pat saw 'em in a store or something somewhere... I don't remember and I don't feel like wracking the brain about it. I wanna watch one eat a bug or something."

[thenumberedloversofdukeellington]

In Absentia

Sorry I have been gone for so long but I have good news:

I AM GRADUATING IN TWO WEEKS

Currently screaming like an opossum out of excitement and fear

[aquared46]

Happy ao3 downtime. Have a little andreil fic. As a treat.

It was only because Neil recognized the cadence of the footsteps downstairs that his pounding heart calmed. He untangled his legs from the blankets, but didn’t rise from the bed. He listened as Andrew locked the front door, the pounding in his head and the sickness swirling in his stomach indicating he only managed about an hour of sleep. Vague images clung to the backs of Neil’s eyelids, a nightmare that slipped from his waking mind. Something Andrew had saved him from before he was even in the room.

Andrew wasn’t supposed to be back in South Carolina for another two weeks, obligated to spend time training with his team between games. Neil himself should’ve been on campus, ready for practice in the morning. Instead, Coach took one look at him yesterday afternoon and sent him away with orders to get some sleep. To give his vice captain a chance to practice for the real thing once Neil graduated in a few short months.

Neil couldn’t get any sleep at the dorms, but his and Andrew’s bed in Columbia called to him. Neil made the trip and collapsed into it, his mind wandering to the countless firsts they shared there rather than the onslaught of memories March brought.

Neil had survived three Marches since the riot, since his father��s people had delivered him to the basement in Baltimore. His fourth March should’ve been no different.

Except there was one thing Neil hadn’t accounted for: Andrew wasn’t there.

Neil was in his final year, Andrew was playing on a professional team states away, and Neil had never realized exactly how much he leaned on him in times like this. How the shared cigarettes steadied his hands, how Andrew’s palm on the back of his neck halted the crawling beneath his skin.

Objectively, he knew Andrew helped, but it was also something Neil should’ve been able to do on his own. It wasn’t something he wanted to burden Andrew with, something that pulled him away from his responsibilities because Neil couldn’t manage to get through just a few fucking days without nearly falling apart.

And now Andrew was standing in the doorway of their bedroom in Columbia, the light from the hall flooding into the room and illuminating Neil in all his disgrace. The sweaty skin, the greasy hair, the circles under his eyes, the t-shirt Neil had bundled under his head.

Neil had found it wedged between the nightstand and the bedframe, undoubtedly tossed aside carelessly on a good day that involved lots of kissing and touching. It smelled a bit like old sweat, but Andrew’s scent also clung to it, and Neil was far beyond denying himself such a simple comfort.

Andrew kicked the bedroom door closed, and Neil listened to his footsteps as he approached in the dark. There was a click as Andrew tugged the chain of the small lamp on the nightstand. Andrew always hated how bright the overhead light was.

Andrew gestured to Neil’s entirety. “This is not fine.” He snagged the shirt from under Neil’s head, wrinkling his nose before tossing it aside.

Andrew had called him just two days earlier. They’d talked as they always did, exchanging stories and sometimes just sitting in silence, knowing the other was there and listening. Except this time Andrew had explicitly asked how Neil was holding up, and Neil had said he was fine.

“I meant what I said.” Neil mourned the loss of the shirt, but tucked his face closer to the pillow, where some of the smell had transferred.

Andrew’s jaw tensed. “I thought you weren’t going to lie to me anymore.”

“I’m not.”

“Then you’re lying to yourself.” Something settled in Andrew’s gaze as he examined Neil, the tension in his shoulders easing. “And you’re an idiot if you think I’d make you bear this on your own.”

Andrew emptied his pockets on the nightstand, and Neil felt something loosen in him as well. As Andrew peeled off his jeans, Neil scooched over to make enough room on the bed.

“There were no games scheduled, so I got cleared for this time off weeks ago,” Andrew said as he slipped under the covers.

The relief Neil felt from his proximity didn’t lessen the weight of his glare. “And you’re telling me this now?”

“You should’ve known I’d be here for your yearly mental breakdown. At least you keep a consistent schedule. I was curious whether you’d be honest with me, but now I have to ask: Was it a lack of self-awareness or sheer bullheaded stubbornness that kept you from telling the truth?” Andrew was close enough Neil could feel the warmth radiating off him. “I didn’t believe you then, and your current appearance only validates that assessment. If I asked again what would your answer be now?”

Neil ignored his first impulse, which was to say he was fine. Not only was it the answer Andrew didn’t want, but it certainly wasn’t true. Frustratingly, everything Andrew said was right. The way Andrew could peel back his layers and see what was underneath used to be unsettling, but nowadays Neil found it reassuring. Even if it pissed him off. Even if Andrew told him things he didn’t want to hear.

“That I can’t sleep,” Neil said through gritted teeth. “That he’s the only thing I see when I close my eyes, and that I wish you were here.”

“That’s better,” Andrew said. “Certainly more believable.”

Andrew reached for Neil, settling his arm over his waist and tugging him closer. Neil sagged into the contact, shuddering with relief as he tucked his head under Andrew’s.

Neil breathed him in. “I should be able to bear this on my own.”

“You don’t have to. I’d rather be here when you don’t need me than be away when you do.” Andrew tightened his arm, tangling Neil’s legs with his.

Neil had been holding himself together by threads for the past few days. In Andrew’s arms, he was safe enough to let himself fall apart. His chest was tight, and he gradually lost the steady breaths he forcibly maintained.

Andrew held him through it, his fingers tapping an irregular rhythm on Neil’s spine. It was something Neil could focus on, something he could latch onto to draw himself back into his own body. Exhaustion crashed into him as soon as he did, but not before he made Andrew a promise.

“I’ll do better next time.”

“I know.”

[caitified]

Hihi really love your fics. Its my first ask haha. Was maybe thinking if you could do a fic of CC and a teammate, teammate can be either a rookie/vet but is kinda cold to CC (really just kinda awkward with new people). When CC gets shoved roughly on court, reader gets all up in the opps face and protects CC and their relationship deepens from there?

Thank you!

rookie season

caitlin clark x reader

warnings:none, i got carried away so you’re getting their entire backstory sorry 🙊

the first time you and caitlin clark really crossed paths was in the championship game during your senior year at lsu. she was the face of iowa basketball, and you could tell from the moment you saw her on the court that she had something special. she was confident, fierce, and competitive—just like you. but in the end, your team pulled ahead, winning the title in front of a packed crowd.

as the final buzzer sounded, you couldn’t help but catch her eye. there was a mutual respect, but there was also that playful rivalry. on the court, you were opponents, but off it, you could tell you had a little bit of a thing for each other. you knew that fire in her eyes. it mirrored your own.

after the game, you shot her a quick text. “close, but not close enough. see you soon clark,” you wrote, the taunting light in your words meant to sting just a little. but it was all in good fun.

caitlin stared at the message for a long time, a frown tugging at her lips. she was already upset about the loss, but this—this was a challenge, and she couldn’t ignore it. she hated losing, but she hated being underestimated more. her fingers hovered over the screen for a few seconds before typing out a response. “i’ll get you next time. count on it.”

the rivalry continued through the years, even as you went your separate ways. after graduation, you entered the wnba, getting drafted to the indiana fever, and had an incredible rookie season. caitlin, meanwhile, went on to dominate her final year at iowa. but despite her skill and talent, she couldn’t overcome south carolina in the national championship. when she lost, you couldn’t resist—sending her a cheeky text. “looks like you came up short again. better luck next time.”

you expected her to get a laugh out of it. it was playful, just like before. but caitlin’s reaction wasn’t what you expected. she stared at the message, hurt more than she’d care to admit. the loss had stung, and your words felt like salt in the wound. still, she didn’t reply. she couldn’t. not yet.

then came the 2024 wnba draft. when caitlin’s name was called and the indiana fever picked her, now you were on the same team. and things only got more awkward from there.

every time caitlin interacted with other players, like katie lou or aliyah, she noticed something. you were always friendly, always smiling, always making an effort to bond with them. it was easy. natural. but with her, it was different. you barely spoke to her beyond the bare minimum, and every time she tried to start a conversation, you gave short, one-word responses. it confused her.

“why doesn’t she like me?” caitlin thought, watching you laugh with katie lou as the team played cards in the lounge after practice. “i don’t get it.”

every time you teased or joked around with your other teammates, caitlin felt the sting of your coldness. it was like she was invisible to you, even though you were teammates now. it made her question herself. was it because she lost that championship? because of how things had gone down in college? did you still think of her as just an opponent? the thought ate at her.

then came the game against one of the toughest teams in the league. caitlin had been getting pushed around, more than once, and the tension on the court was palpable. you could see her jaw clench, her shoulders stiffen. when the opposing player—a notoriously aggressive forward—got in caitlin’s face, pushing her and swearing, caitlin didn’t back down. but it was obvious she was starting to lose control.

you didn’t even think about it. you just reacted. before anyone could stop you, you were between them, your body protecting hers. you stood tall, staring the other player down, your voice cold but firm. “you don’t get to do that to her,” you said, the words leaving no room for argument.

caitlin stood behind you, a mixture of shock and gratitude on her face. she didn’t expect you to step in. she’d always been the one to fight her battles, but something in the way you had defended her made her heart race. it was different. personal. and for the first time, she realized just how much she needed that support from you.

after the game, when everything had calmed down, caitlin found herself alone in the locker room, her thoughts swirling. she hadn’t expected you to protect her like that. it made her feel something deep, something she couldn’t put into words. and she wanted to know more. wanted to understand why you acted the way you did around her, why you kept your distance.

you were sitting by your locker, wiping down your sneakers when she walked up to you. the silence between you two was thick.

“why didn’t you say anything before?” caitlin asked, her voice soft but edged with curiosity. “you’ve been so… cold with me. i don’t get it. i mean, you’re nice to everyone else, but with me… you act like i’m invisible. i just wanted to know why.”

you looked up at her, meeting her eyes for the first time with something softer in your gaze. the rivalry between you two wasn’t there anymore. not really. “i didn’t know how to be around you,” you admitted, your voice quieter than you intended. “in college, you were the one i had to beat. and then you got drafted here, and… it felt weird. like i didn’t know how to treat you.”

caitlin blinked, processing your words. “you didn’t know how to treat me?” she repeated, her voice catching slightly. she had hoped for something else, but hearing you say it made her understand. maybe she had been too focused on trying to prove herself to you. “so, you’re not… mad at me?” she asked, her heart pounding in her chest.

“no,” you said with a small smile. “not mad. just… confused. i didn’t know if we could be something else after everything. i guess i wasn’t ready to let go of the rivalry.”

caitlin let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, her shoulders relaxing. she smiled, a genuine one this time. “maybe it’s time we let it go.”

from that moment on, things changed. you and caitlin started to talk more, really talk. you found common ground, sharing laughs, teasing each other, and slowly, the barriers you had built up started to crumble. the more you got to know her, the more you realized there was more to her than the fiery competitor you once knew. and maybe there was a lot more between you two than you had ever expected.

not me lying and saying i was gonna post a few days ago. i’m so sorry i’ve been so busy. enjoy. REQUESTS R OPEN

part two? let me know

[neiljostenslawyer]

The Rules Never Change / Andrew POV of the Foxes vs Ravens Aftermath

When Andrew is seven he gets pushed out of a tree because his foster father wants a child that is bedridden. It is a hard first fall into an iron ruleset. The first bone he ever breaks is in his leg.

In juvie, it's his hands that take most of the damage. He stops growing by thirteen but he is uncommonly strong and fights to maim every time. The pigs are the first one to call him monster, and they make him play goalie because they don't trust him near the other kids.

He sprains his neck when he grabs the wheel from his mother's hands and throws her subaru into a ditch. He gets a concussion in Columbia, a black eye and a broken heart in Binghamton. When the pigs pull him off of the guy who kicked Nicky's teeth in, they dislocate his shoulder.

“Have you ever suffocated?” Neil asks him in pitch dark that miserable July. The whole month is characterized by a menacing, record-breaking heat, but Andrew just feels cold. He knows the sun is there, but his dread is a black hole getting bigger and bigger every day closer to Aaron's trial.

They're sitting on the side of the road somewhere in the middle of nowhere because it's the 4th and Neil has bullet holes all through his body. They thought if they drove far and fast enough they might escape the fireworks, but even here on the edge of long woods, in a pitch black place ruled by cicadas and locust and mosquitoes, their peace is short-lived. Peace is a long, ruleless game of chance.

Injury is a simple game of physics, of motion. What goes up must come down.

Neil stopped waiting for Andrew to answer ten minutes into this one-sided conversation. He says,

“Riko was into waterboarding. I don't remember most of it.”

It's almost too hot to breathe. Once they were certain they'd reached the exact middle of nowhere, they stopped for a needed smoke break. Their cigarettes are long gone and Neil hasn’t stopped talking for almost an hour. The grass is damp as they sit against the wooden fence outlining some field. It's too dark to tell what is growing behind them.

They're close but not touching. July started and Andrew stopped talking almost completely. In the pitch black Neil weaves between loosely connected ideas, pulling at the threads of Andrew's psyche and stitching them together again with each easy bounce from how getting shot feels to the atrocity of the dining hall's limited summer options. He talks about the freshmen and Exy and what he thinks of Thea and and what he thinks of Andrew and how Moscow is too cold and South Carolina is too hot, and Andrew takes it all in stride.

“It was all ego for him,” Neil continues. There are rules. There is a chemical reaction, and the night sky explodes over top of them. Never safe. Neil goes still for a moment and there is cheering somewhere in the distance. Rednecks setting off homemade fireworks, probably. The orange light unmasks them for a moment. Neil has a face you could pick out in a crowd of thousands. He keeps talking.

“He liked looking into your eyes and seeing nothing but himself. He liked watching your whole world shrink down to the tip of a knife.”

Another firework showers them with light, gold this time. Neil flinches but doesn’t stop talking. Andrew has always been the property of the state. He graduated from the foster system to parole in eighteen short years, and now he watches as everyone who stands to benefit from his talent on the court scrambles to keep him out of jail. The United States gave Andrew the last name Doe, until his brother found him and gave him a name that only they share. And now they want to put Aaron in jail too. He thinks about that and he thinks about homemade fireworks and he thinks about waterboarding and he thinks about Riko and he thinks about last weekend when they went to Columbia and Andrew used the orange bandana Neil is wearing right now to tie his wrists to the guest room headboard. But nobody ever looked at Riko the way Neil looked at Andrew as he hovered over him tying that knot.

And then there’s another firework, and the sky glows crimson.

Coach is the first thing to cut through all the red.

"Andrew, focus you need to fucking focus," he shouts in his ear, his arms wrapped around Andrew's neck in a desperate attempt to contain without harming an opponent with none of the same reservations. Wymack can thank him when Jasmine Lane's dead or throw his scholarship out the window like he threatens to every other week. It doesn’t matter.

The entire left side of his body is nothing but pain, and he thrashes anyway against the hold. Luckily, or maybe not, Coach knows exactly what he's doing, and uses all his weight to wretch Andrew around until he catches sight of Neil's broken body on the ground. Wymack takes advantage of the second Andrew's heart drops into his stomach to get him moving. His shoulder screams at the way Wymack drags him but it barely registers as he's finally deposited onto his knees next to Neil. Hard fall. Security is moving toward them, saying they need to get Andrew off of the court and Wymack fights them off because he knows how much worse this will get if they try.

And then Neil floats to another topic. He's a disembodied voice in the dark, dragging Andrew’s aching mind in and out of itself.

“And I like that you don't react when I tell you about it. I love my teammates, but their pity is suffocating. Why the fuck do the southern states have so many goddamn bugs anyway? They don't have mosquitoes in Iceland. Maybe we'll live there one day. I liked it, what I saw of it anyway.”

What goes up must come down. It isn't long before a pig finds them, some tall gangly guy who was probably out around looking for drunk drivers. They don't get up or say anything until his flashlight is right in their faces, and even then not until he asks what they're doing. Neil does all the talking.

The officer asks for their names, which Neil doesn't give him. He asks if they've been drinking and Neil says they haven't. After a few more questions Neil gets bored and asks the guy point blank what the fuck his problem is, anyway. It only gets worse from there.

Andrew thinks about Renee crying when they thought Neil was dead. Maybe she thought she was doing him a kindness by crying for him, and maybe she was. Andrew drowned himself in as much liquor as he could find but his mind wouldn't let go of the slow and gory fate of the kid he’d spent the afternoon sharing past lives with. Up, down. Stupid liar, worthless traitor, psychotic junkie, scared kid. The worst part was that when Andrew pushed through the haze of absolute defeat he found that he had already forgiven Neil. He’d called it, hadn't he? A pipe dream, too good to be true. It was his own fault. You were always going to lose him, Kevin had said right before Andrew tried to strangle him. Iron ruleset. Renee walked him to the gas station for cigarettes with red eyes, and she said there's no pain in heaven and Andrew didn't believe her and still doesn't. And then coach got a call from the FBI.

“I need to see your ID,” the cop is saying.

“The fuck you do,” Neil says, standing up now. Between flashlight and headlights he is on full display, the white glow rendering the burns on his face darker, his scars sharper. His pale blue eyes look almost demonic. He's gorgeous.

The cop directs his light to Andrew. Neil hates that.

“We're not doing anything wrong. Do you seriously not have anything better to do? Is your time actually this worthless,” he demands.

The cop looks to Andrew again, silently warning him to keep his companion under control. Andrew has nothing to offer; every time Neil gets sent to hell he comes back hungrier.

“What's your name,” he asks for the third time.

There are rules and then there is Josten, Andrew's very own uncontrollable force of nature, who snaps at the cop to get his attention and says,

“Don't fucking talk to him,” with a smile that's going to get somebody killed.

"Neil, honey, I need you to talk to me. It's okay, we've got you. Just breath, okay, it's okay," Abby is saying, working to loose some of his armor. Her voice is steady, but her face is a banner of devastation. She's looking him over and over, but it's clear she's afraid to move him too much without a better idea of how badly injured he is. Neil's eyes are glazed and he's gasping for air but it's like every breath he takes is shredding him from the inside out.

Wymack crouches next to them as security drags a half-conscious Lane off the court. As if there is anywhere in the world she could be safe from Andrew. He'd already made her a promise.

"Neil," Wymack says, "Neil, wake up."

Neil makes an airless sound, whatever words it was meant to be come out shattered. He steels against the pain, though, and tries again anyway.

"Is Andrew-" is all he manages to cough out before Andrew cuts him off with a growled,

"Fuck you."

The last thing Neil would've seen before going down was a racquet flying toward Andrew's skull.

Neil's eyes squeeze shut as what would be a sigh of relief is ripped in half by a choked cough, which seems to only make the pain worse as his breath shallows.

Andrew tries to turn to make sure Lane is out of sight, but Abby's hand shoots up beside his head.

"Don't," she warns quickly, looking him over. "Andrew, you need to move as little as possible."

Even as he starts to shift, he knows she's right. He tests and gets a taste of the fire that is waiting for him once the adrenaline wears off. He isn't sure what, exactly, is broken, but he knows this feeling well enough.

"Lane?" he asks through his teeth.

"Probably in police custody already," Wymack confirms, and so Andrew begins to undo Neil's neck guard. Abby removes his helmet, and Andrew guides Neil's sickeningly heavy head to the floor as gently as he can. His eyes are open again—blue and cold and blinking away clouds of asphyxiation.

Andrew puts his head to the floor and meets his gaze.

Hate is a chemical reaction, too. Everything has rules.

Even laying like this, Andrew can feel his collarbone screaming at the pressure and he knows something is very, very broken. It hurts, but he holds the position as long as he can. There's a stomach-turning sense of hope that comes with the decision to stop guessing how much worse things can get.

After Neil hands over their IDs and annoys the pig out of their way, the spot loses its magic. The whole encounter didn't need to be as dramatic as it was, but Neil knows that Andrew likes it when he runs his mouth, no matter how much they suffer for it. Neil is quiet as Andrew pushes the mas faster than he probably should through the winding black night. The first part of campus to come into view is the towering floodlights of the Foxhole Court.

“I know if we lose Aaron it's going to be the worst thing that could ever happen to you,” Neil says. Andrew doesn't answer because it isn't a question.

He turns up the heat and lets his hand fall between them, and Neil links their pinkies together in a silent promise.

[hcsiqs]

hii could u write caitlin x reader where they used to date in hs but then they broke up and now years later they got back in touch and they have feelings again? pls and thank u

| feels like a fever, like i’m burning alive

• pairing: caitlin clark x ex!girlfriend

• summary: ^^

• warnings: erm angst? idk man

You had just placed the last box into the trunk of your dad’s car. Today was the day you’d be leaving to drive to South Carolina, a sixteen hour drive from Des Moines, Iowa to there.

When you had picked to go to USC you had never really realized how far away from your family and Caitlin you would be and it was all now just hitting you. You were gonna be in a brand new state without knowing anyone and you would have to make friends all over again.

You felt the tears form in your eyes as you closed the trunk and took time to notice that this would be the last moment you would get to be with Caitlin. Once you both had committed to college and recognized the seventeen hour travel distance, you knew that staying together wouldn’t be an option. With her busy basketball schedule and you being on the pre-med track, it was obvious that you wouldn’t be able to make time for each other. Especially since for you, traveling back home for holidays would be hard, which just meant you would only ever see your girlfriend over summer. You both decided it would cause too much stress for the both of you.

You used the back of your hand to wipe away the tears from your eyes before turning around and seeing the beautiful brunette standing there, hands in her hoodie pocket and her head adorned with the hood. You slowly walked over to her and as soon as you were in arms reach she pulled you in with all of her strength, causing you to slightly bounce back. Her hands wrapped around your shoulders, one of her hands gripping at the back of your neck, trying to savor the smell of you for one last moment. “Please don’t go,” she whispered, her voice breaking as her grip tightened.

“I have to,” your hands went under her hoodie, wrapping your arms around her bare waist.

“Please Y/N,” she begged and you could hear the sadness in her voice as her tears soaked your USC sweatshirt.

“I’m sorry baby,” you dropped your forehead into her shoulder, your arms pulling her stomach against your own leaving no room. You pulled back, your hands traveled up to her perfect face that now had tear stains covering it. “You’re gonna do amazing things at Iowa,” your thumb ran against her cheek.

“It won’t be worth it without you,” her lips formed into a deeper frown, attempting to stop herself from crying.

“Yes it will,” you nodded your head, “You’re gonna change the game, I know it,” you smiled, but your face still held all of the sadness you felt right on the barrier.

“I love you,” she sniffled, pulling you in once more.

“I love you more,” you squeezed her waist before hearing your dad call for you. You reluctantly pulled back and then placed a soft kiss on CC’s lips, tasting the salt from her tears. You then moved away from her, her hands lingering on your waist until you were out of reach and they fell to her side.

“We’re gonna be together again. Someday,” she spoke up as she watched you walk towards the car.

“I know,” you smiled sadly before getting into the backseat of the car. Your dad quickly pulled out of the driveway leaving Caitlin standing there in her Iowa Hawkeye sweatshirt.

From never ending classes, due to you taking them even in summer, you had been able to graduate earlier from USC and were now working as a medical intern for the Indiana Fever. Lucky for you Aliyah Boston had been drafted by them the same year and you two had developed a strong relationship as you were also a medical intern for the Gamecocks women’s basketball team during your college education.

And even though you worked for the WNBA you tried to stay out of the basketball scene, not paying much attention to it as you wanted to separate your life and work. So, while you had an idea of all the amazing things your ex girlfriend had accomplished during her college career you weren’t really too knowledgeable on it. You hadn’t even watched the draft so the first day back on the job you weren’t expecting to see Caitlin Clark walk through the doors. You had just finished going over basic medical history with the other rookies, Celeste Taylor and Leilani Correa.

“Hi I’m Dr. Y/L/N, but you can just call me Y/N,” you said to the person who walked in, not looking up from your work just yet.

“I’m pretty sure I already know your name,” a familiar voice entered your ears making you look up so fast you swore you could have given yourself whiplash. You felt your heart freeze as you looked at the girl in front you, wearing all Fever practice clothes. You blinked hard several times to make sure this wasn’t just some cruel prank your brain was playing on you.

“Caitlin,” your voice trailed off as you stood up to look at her. She looked the same since the last time you saw her, but also didn’t at the same time. Her muscles were more prominent, her hair long and now changed to a middle part, but she still had that same smile on her face that you had fallen in love with when you were a teenager.

“Miss me?” she asked, even though it had the most obvious answer. You stood up from your chair tackling her in a hug. Her skin was just as soft as you had remembered it being and her embrace was just as warm. It really was Caitlin standing in front of you.

“I didn’t know you got drafted here!” you revealed, stepping back to look at the tall girl in front of you.

“First pick,” she smiled, and your hands slapped to your face. She let out a noise that you had missed hearing all these years, her laugh.

“I’m so proud of you Cait,” you beamed and you felt yourself wanting to slip back into that past state of you two. Wanting to just pull her in for a kiss and never let go. “So how's everything going? Dating anyone?” you asked, but then immediately wanted to slap yourself in the face for asking that.

Caitlin awkwardly coughed into her hand before answering, “Um yeah I’m dating this guy I met at Iowa,” she answered, her eyes falling to the floor like she wanted to melt into it.

“Oh cool, cool,” you nodded, walking back to your little desk to sit back down at.

“Yeah,” she nodded her head, walking over to the chair across from the desk, “How bout you? You dating?”

“Um no,” you shook your head, “So! Let’s get into this medical history,” you so desperately wanted to change the topic.

“Right, yeah,” Caitlin agreed, sitting down in the chair.

It had now been three months since Caitlin had joined the W and she somehow always found a way to get into your office during a practice even if she didn’t need to be there. Your guy’s connection had immediately come back, almost like y’all hadn’t been separated for those four years of college.

And as you had spent these months together, you noticed those familiar feelings rise once again. Your heart always started beating faster when she was near and you found yourself unable to think sometimes just because her green eyes were looking at you. And now you would be sharing a hotel room during All Star Weekend in Arizona because she had decided to take you as her plus one.

She had broken up with her boyfriend only a couple weeks ago, so you figured that’s why your emotions and feelings were going crazy every time you looked at her, just because there was even a slight possibility that you could be back together.

The All Star game had just ended and Caitlin was running your way, emotionally high on the win she had just gotten against the USA olympic team. She practically crushed you as she brought you into the tightest hug.

“Almost broke Sue’s record,” you giggled into her ear.

“Almost,” she pulled back. Her eyes scanned your whole face, glancing at your lips a little too long here and there.

“So, what does this All Star wanna do tonight?” you asked, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Go back to the hotel,” she smiled.

“Really? I thought you’d wanna go out?” your eyebrows knitted together as you looked up at her.

“I just wanna hang out with you,” she smiled and placed a kiss on your forehead before being called over by the WNBA team to take pictures to celebrate their win. But once she was done with photos and media, as well as had gotten her stuff from the locker room she had the two of you get into a car to drive you back to the hotel.

“To you and all your amazing accomplishments,” you giggled, holding up a shot that was in the back of the car. Caitlin did the same, you two clinked them together before downing them and then a few more after. And once the car came to a park, the two of you sluggishly got out of the car and stumbled your way back to your room.

Once inside Caitlin dropped all her bags to the floor and her hands found your hips, pushing you against the door. “I really wanna kiss you,” she whispered against your lips.

“Please,” you nodded eagerly. Her lips crashed against your own, your hands pulling her face closer to yours as her body pinned you against the hotel door. There was literally no space between the two of you, both so hungry for one another. CC pulled back to take a breath but before she could go back in for another kiss you stopped her, “I’ve missed this so much.”

“Me too baby, me too,” she smiled, bringing you into another deep kiss, her hands going under your top. “So much,” she smiled against your lips and walked you over to the bed.

allies corner

this is lowkey long and i can’t tell if it’s trash or not

[mimi-0007]

Paul Adams 1920-2013, joined the Tuskegee Airmen shortly after graduating from South Carolina State University. He flew with the 332nd Fighter Squadron (the famed "Red Tails") throughout WWII. He would retire from the military in 1962. He then would become a teaching in the Lincoln (NE) public school system. They named Adams Elementary school for him in 2008.

Paul Adams and his fellow Tuskegee Airmen were the first African-American aviators in the U.S. military, whose distinguished record many historians credit with helping pave the way for the civil rights movement.

The group set an unprecedented record, flying more than 1,500 missions in Europe and North Africa. Adam served in nine major campaigns and received the Commendation Medal with three Oak Leaf clusters, each of which signifies subsequent bestowals of the same honor.

Doane College recognized him with the President's Honor of Distinction Award the same year. In 2007, he received the Congressional Gold Medal along with other Tuskegee Airmen, who were known as "guardian angels" by white airmen who were escorted by the African-American pilots during the war. Adams received a bronze replica at a ceremony in Lincoln. Doane College recognized him with the President's Honor of Distinction Award the same year.

And two years later, Adams, at President Barack Obama's invitation, attended the inauguration of the first black president along with other Tuskegee Airmen. Adams went on to become one of the first black teachers in LPS, and in 2008, his accomplishments were honored when the district named a new school after him.

He became a frequent visitor at Adams Elementary, where books about Tuskegee Airmen fill the library and teachers make a point to read them to students. The history became an integral part of Adams Elementary school

[mydaddywiki]

Pat Conroy

Physique: Husky Build Height: 6' 1"

Donald Patrick Conroy (October 26, 1945 – March 4, 2016; aged 70) was an American author who wrote several acclaimed novels and memoirs; his books The Water is Wide, The Lords of Discipline, The Prince of Tides and The Great Santini were made into films, the last two being nominated for Oscars.

Recognized as a leading figure of late-20th century Southern literature (and as a hot chub daddy), who has written several acclaimed novels and memoirs. A former military brat with daddy issues, if he was born a woman, he would have turned into a stripper or whore. Instead he became an author that I'd still take to a back alley for a blow-job. Sure the comb over might be a problem, but I’m positive I won’t be focused on that whilst said dick was in him.

Born in Atlanta, GA, Conroy moved often in his youth, attending 11 schools by the time he was 15. He did not have a hometown until his family settled in Beaufort, SC, where he finished high school. During his senior year in high school, he was a protégé of Ann Head who was an influence on his future writing. His alma mater is The Citadel, The Military College of South Carolina in Charleston, where he graduated from the Corps of Cadets as an English major. He briefly became a schoolteacher (which he chronicled in his memoir The Water Is Wide) before publishing his first novel, The Boo.

Conroy lived on Fripp Island in Beaufort County, South Carolina until his death in 2016 at his home from Pancreatic Cancer. Living in South Carolina, I use to imagine running into him and offering him THE DICK. Then write his own biography about how we were secret lovers for years. Fucking like dogs in heat every time we get together. Yes… that would be a top seller.

Conroy’s first two marriages ended in divorce. He is survived by his wife, the writer Cassandra King; four daughters: Jessica Conroy, Melissa Conroy, Megan Conroy and Susannah Ansley Conroy; five stepchildren: Emily Conroy; Jake, James and Jason Ray; and Gregory Fleischer; and seven grandchildren.

Works: 1970: The Boo 1972: The Water Is Wide 1976: The Great Santini 1980: The Lords of Discipline 1986: The Prince of Tides 1989: Unconquered (teleplay) 1992: Essay on the Hidden Subculture of Military Brats at the Wayback Machine 1995: Beach Music 2002: My Losing Season 2003: Unrooted Childhoods: Memoirs of Growing Up Global 2004: The Pat Conroy Cookbook: Recipes of My Life 2009: South of Broad 2010: My Reading Life 2013: The Death of Santini 2016: A Lowcountry Heart: Reflections on a Writing Life

[willowbeesims]

Caroline Rhode Downing 🤎

Caroline Downing (26) grew up in the suburbs of Charleston, South Carolina with her older brother, Eric, and younger sister, Kaia. She was quite reserved as a child, preferring to bury herself in books and daydreaming rather than rambunctious play like her siblings. After graduating from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill with a degree in English language and literature, she has been working as an editor at a local publishing house for several years.

Her parents, Richard and Maria, are owners of an award winning winery in Charleston and a renowned equestrian center in the Scottish Highlands. Her brother, Eric, was positioned to oversee the building of the family’s equestrian center in town when he tragically passed away in a fatal car accident last summer.

Life for the Downings haven’t been the same since. Though a semblance of normalcy and routine have returned, each member has been on their own journey with grief and healing. This experience of loss has brought them closer than ever and as the season changes, they hope to commemorate Eric’s memory by completing his passion project and finding gratitude in simple things.

Caroline’s outfit inspired by @classicpixels new lookbook!

[somaliapearls]

Eden “Skye” Carter

✩ Flight Risk masterlist

✈️ bradley “rooster” bradshaw x fem x jake “hangman” seresin

✩ genre: genre: drama, romance, military, angst, slow burn, love triangle

✩ warnings: language, emotional whiplash, tension, flying sequences, mentions of loss

Name: Lieutenant Eden “Skye” Carter

Callsign: Skye

Branch: United States Navy – Naval Aviator

Aircraft: F/A-18 Super Hornet

Role: Top Gun Graduate, mission candidate, later instructor potential

Background:

Born in Charleston, South Carolina, Eden grew up with a military dad (a retired Navy pilot) and a mother who was a storm-chasing meteorologist. She grew up between airfields and storm fronts, developing a deep love for flying and a bold streak a mile wide. Her older sister enlisted but was discharged after a crash—something that Eden carries guilt over, believing it should’ve been her in that seat. She’s always lived in the shadow of loss and expectation.

After excelling at Annapolis, Eden earned a reputation at Top Gun for being razor-focused, daring, and almost too calm under pressure. She got the callsign Skye because of her high-altitude maneuvering skills and the fact that “her head’s always in the clouds—but somehow still gets the job done.”

Personality:

Witty and guarded, Skye is the type to lean against a hangar with her arms crossed, reading people before saying a word. She’s confident but doesn’t brag, sarcastic but sincere when it counts. She hides her vulnerability behind dry humor and a steady exterior. She doesn’t let many people in—and when she does, she keeps one foot out the door just in case.

[offender42085]

Post 1240

Before and After....

Charles Davenport, Jr., South Carolina inmate 378281, born 1993, incarceration intake November 2018 at age 25, scheduled for release November 2035

DUI resulting in Death

In November 2018, a former University of South Carolina student was sentenced to 20 years in prison after pleading guilty in the DUI death of another USC student.

It was one of the harshest DUI-killing sentences handed down in recent years in South Carolina, where drunken drivers who kill innocent people typically are sentenced to six or seven years, said a spokeswoman for the South Carolina Victims Advocate Council.

State Circuit Court Judge George McFaddin handed down the sentence for felony DUI involving death to Charles Davenport Jr., 25, during a lengthy hearing. McFaddin sentenced Davenport to 25 years in prison — the maximum sentence — but suspended five years of that sentence.

In November 2017, Davenport was driving his pickup truck at an estimated 76 mph — more than twice the legal limit — and accelerating on Rosewood Drive when he rammed a moped driven by David Newell, according to evidence. Evidence presented at the hearing showed Davenport had a blood-alcohol level nearly double the legal standard for being under the influence. He also had ingested Xanax — a sedative — and THC, a chemical that produces marijuana’s “high.”

Newell, a 22-year-old graduating senior from Maryland, just had finished his last exam at the School of Business when he was killed.

The combination of drugs and alcohol, along with Davenport’s excessive speed, were factors in Judge McFaddin’s 25-year sentence.

Along with members of Newell’s family, about 40 members of Newell’s Chi Psi fraternity also were in the courtroom and told the court about their loss.

During the hearing, Davenport apologized.

Since Davenport's incarceration he has been described as a model inmate.

4y

[kaijuno]

LOUISE JENKINS MERIWETHER

(May 8, 1923 – October 10, 2023)

Louise Jenkins Meriwether, a novelist, essayist, journalist, and social activist, was the only daughter of Marion Lloyd Jenkins and his wife, Julia. Meriwether was born May 8, 1923, in Haverstraw, New York, to parents from South Carolina.

After the 1929 stock market crash, Louise’s family migrated from Haverstraw to New York City. They moved to Brooklyn first and later to Harlem. The third of five children, Louise grew up during the Great Depression, a time that would deeply affect her young life and ultimately influence her as a writer.

Louise Jenkins attended Public School 81 in Harlem and graduated from Central Commercial High School in downtown Manhattan. In the 1950s, she received a B.A. in English from New York University before meeting and marrying Angelo Meriwether, a Los Angeles teacher. Although this marriage and later marriage to Earle Howe ended in divorce, Louise continued to use the Meriwether name. In 1965, Louise earned an M.A. in journalism from the University of California at Los Angeles. Her first book, Daddy Was a Number Runner, a fictional account of the economic devastation of Harlem in the Great Depression, appeared in 1970 as the first novel to emerge from the Watts Writers’ Workshop.

The circumstances surrounding this photo are largely unnatributed to larger context but some citation indicates that Jenkins-Merriwether was being questioned by police at a protest.

[pfctipper]

Kind of fascinated by this little section in one of Dick’s books:

Our OCS class graduated on July 2, 1942 […] Following lunch at the officers club, we were free to go our own way, though few of us had actual assignments. Nixon was assigned duty at Fort Ord, California, and attached to the military police unit on post. With no immediate openings in the paratroopers, I returned to Camp Croft to train another contingent that had recently arrived. As an officer I didn’t last long at Croft: about five weeks to be exact, before receiving orders to report to the 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, at Camp Toombs, Georgia […] Following a brief leave, I arrived in Toccoa in mid-August. Disembarking from the Southern Railway train adjacent to the Toccoa Coffin Factory, Lewis Nixon and I were directed to board an army truck for “Camp Toombs” - Richard Winters and Cole C. Kingseed, Beyond Band of Brothers: The War Memoirs of Major Dick Winters (2006)

Camp Croft is in South Carolina and Fort Ord is in California. I don’t know much about the USA rail system, or how involved the army would have been in coordinating their travel, but regardless of whether Dick was travelling from South Carolina or wherever he was on leave - how likely is it that they’d end up on the exact same train into Toccoa? Maybe something they’d either planned themselves, or they’d departed from the same place (maybe Nix had leave too?)- or a coincidental train/station reunion after five weeks apart? Who knows, but very sweet that he makes a point of highlighting that the two of them (and only the two of them?) arrived together anyway.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Markos Moulitsas (kos) at Daily Kos:

On Tuesday, The Washington Post reported that top Donald Trump allies are openly musing about reinstituting a military draft. Trump’s lightning-fast denial is proof that he realizes just what a disaster that would be for his campaign. 

The Post report leaned heavily on two top Trump allies. The first is Christopher Miller, who was appointed secretary of defense during the waning days of Trump’s coup attempt. He is a key architect of The Heritage Foundation’s fascist Project 2025, a governing template which, among other things, would require all high school students to take the military entrance exam in order to graduate. (So much for local control of schools in their fascist vision.) [...] Sen. J.D. Vance of Ohio, reportedly a finalist in Trump’s VP horse race, is also pro-draft. “I like the idea of national service. And I’m not talking about in wartime,” he told the Post, saying that Americans need to have “some skin in the game.”  Sen. Lindsey Graham of South Carolina said, “I will take no option off the table” in addressing the nation’s recruiting shortfall, including compulsory service.  Rob Hood, a former Trump defense official, said compulsory service would give young people “a better appreciation for how great this country is.” 

Donald Trump and some of his sycophants are proposing the return of the military draft.

[mimi-0007]

𝗔𝗡𝗡𝗔 𝗝𝗨𝗟𝗜𝗔 𝗛𝗔𝗬𝗪𝗢𝗢𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗢𝗣𝗘𝗥 (1858-1964)

Anna Julia Haywood Cooper was a writer, teacher, and activist who championed education for African Americans and women. Born into bôndage in 1858 in Raleigh, North Carolina, she was the daughter of an enslaved woman, Hannah Stanley, and her owner, George Washington Haywood.

In 1867, two years after the end of the Civil Wàr, Anna began her formal education at Saint Augustine’s Normal School and Collegiate Institute, a coeducational facility built for former slàves. There she received the equivalent of a high school education.

Anna Haywood married George A.G. Cooper, a teacher of theology at Saint Augustine’s, in 1877. When her husband died in 1879, Cooper decided to pursue a college degree. She attended Oberlin College in Ohio on a tuition scholarship, earning a BA in 1884 and a Masters in Mathematics in 1887. After graduation Cooper worked at Wilberforce University and Saint Augustine’s before moving to Washington, D.C. to teach at Washington Colored High School. She met another teacher, Mary Church (Terrell), who, along with Cooper, boarded at the home of Alexander Crummell, a prominent clergyman, intellectual, and proponent of African American emigration to Liberia.

Cooper published her first book, A Voice from the South by a Black Woman of the South, in 1892. In addition to calling for equal education for women, A Voice from the South advanced Cooper’s assertion that educated African American women were necessary for uplifting the entire black race. The book of essays gained national attention, and Cooper began lecturing across the country on topics such as education, civil rights, and the status of black women. In 1902, Cooper began a controversial stint as principal of M Street High School (formerly Washington Colored High). The white Washington, D.C. school board disagreed with her educational approach for black students, which focused on college preparation, and she resigned in 1906.

In addition to working to advance African American educational opportunities, Cooper also established and co-founded several organizations to promote black civil rights causes. She helped found the Colored Women’s League in 1892, and she joined the executive committee of the first Pan-African Conference in 1900. Since the Young Women’s Christian Association (YWCA) and the Young Men’s Christian Association (YMCA) did not accept African American members, she created “colored” branches to provide support for young black migrants moving from the South into Washington, D.C.

Cooper resumed graduate study in 1911 at Columbia University in New York City, New York. After the death of her brother in 1915, however, she postponed pursuing her doctorate in order to raise his five grandchildren. She returned to school in 1924 when she enrolled at the University of Paris in France. In 1925, at the age of 67, Cooper became the fourth African American woman to obtain a Doctorate of Philosophy.

In 1930, Cooper retired from teaching to assume the presidency of Frelinghuysen University, a school for black adults. She served as the school’s registrar after it was reorganized into the Frelinghuysen Group of Schools for Colored People. Cooper remained in that position until the school closed in the 1950s.

Anna Julia Cooper dièd in 1964 in Washington, D.C. at the age of 105.

[mydaddywiki]

Jeff Duncan

Physique: Average Build Height: 6′ 1″ (1.85 m)

Jeffrey Darren Duncan (born January 7, 1966) is an American politician who has been the United States Representative for South Carolina’s 3rd congressional district since 2011. Duncan, a Republican, previously served in the South Carolina House of Representatives from 2002 to 2010 when he retired to run for the U.S. House of Representatives. On January 17, 2024, Duncan announced that he would not run for re-election.

Well, all I can say is this man is almost perfect for me. Why not perfect? First, his choice in shoe wear. Not that their bad, just looks like he had them for years. Come on Jeff, your a US congressman. Time for some new shoes. That being said, I can over look the shoes. Second and most important, he’s not naked and in my bed with my jizz all over him. What? Then he’d be perfect.

Born in Greenville, South Carolina, Duncan graduated from Clemson University with a BA in political science in 1988 and was a member of the school's football team. After graduation, Duncan served as branch manager and an assistant vice president during his seven years working in community banking. Later, he started and ran his own small business, J. Duncan & Associates, a South Carolina-based, family-owned real estate marketing firm until his election to Congress in 2010.

Lets see, he’s married… Wait… his wife Melody, with who he shares three sons with, recently filed to divorce Jeffy, alleging he carried out multiple affairs during his 34-year marriage. Including one with a lobbyist that Melody believes Duncan is currently living with in Washington D.C.. SCANDALOUS. So this is the reason he's retiring.

Well… if he was sleeping with me, he maybe able to salvage his political career. Hey, the "I recently found out I was gay" defense can work. lol