#bc at this point it takes everything i have just to get up and go to work in the mornings

[zorange13]

—enhypen as boyfriends, argument edition

how they are during arguments?

enha hyung line x fem! poc reader (no specific descriptors, like i said i just write everything with poc's in mind so this is just my thing atp idk)

cw. arguments/conflicts in romantic relationships, verbal escalation, profanity (bc when do i not curse), emotional vulnerability, brief mentioning of tears.

wc. 2.2k, lightly proofread

lee heeseung 

— what he does

whether it’s you or him that’s in the wrong, it always starts with somebody sassing the other person unnecessarily or for no good reason. please don’t misunderstand, you guys are not toxic by any means. but i still stand on what i said about him being prideful. so with that, i feel that you two would go at it until you make a good point, then he just shuts down—as previously mentioned. so he would just stop talking after a while, especially when he feels like you aren’t hearing him. 

but the thing about hee is that he never calls you your actual name. it’s always ‘babe’, ‘beautiful’, or ‘baby’ and if he does call you by your name then that’s how you would know he’s livid. which isn’t that often—but nonetheless, he doesn’t talk after a while. especially if he gets so angry to the point where he just retracts. he hits you with the ‘mhm’, ‘yeah’, ‘i get it’, and everything else just so he doesn’t have to tell you that you’re right or that he was being dramatic.

— how he would make it up to you

like i said, after his fit of silence, then he would apologize whether he was wrong or not. he doesn’t like to be wrong but would not risk you over some stupid ass argument about who didn’t clean up. but like i said, he’s a very masculine guy and prides himself on being a good counterpart to your femininity. he feels that you shouldn’t have to yell, nor should you have to overexert yourself to make a point to him. especially when it’s both of you guys’ job to have healthy, safe conversations with the other. but no one’s perfect and that’s not going to happen every single time. “you were right, and i’m sorry. i don’t like to see you yell or anything because that’s not what a lady should do, and i’m sorry that i brought that out of you over something so silly. i love you and never want to put you in a position like that.”

from there, heeseung would give you space if that’s what you wanted. but he would still let you know how apologetic he is by going to get your favorite snacks and setting up a cute at-home movie date. or if you aren’t up to that, he’d cook you dinner and talk to you about how you’re feeling for as long as you need to.

he isn’t perfect and can acknowledge that, but he loves you and will do anything to make sure you know.

park jay

— what he does

jay’s very calm and likeminded, but almost annoyingly so. he doesn’t like to fight and neither do you. but regardless, fights happen but if anyone were to be loud, it would be you. you’re not above raising your voice, and a part of you feels so stupid because as weird as it sounds, you wished he’d get angry. but he just sits there, listening—of course, frustrated—but still actively listening and you would be like “does what i’m saying mean anything to you?” and he would nod quaintly, “it means everything to me, you mean everything to me and that’s why i’m just trying to figure this out.” “jay, you know you can yell back right? no, not even yell. just act like you give a shit.” “i can give a shit and still not yell, you know that right?”

he tries to hear you out but then he just finds himself getting irritated at your lack of understanding at times. but he wouldn’t back down, nor would he let you walk all over him. I feel like when you really start to push him is when he’d snap. “okay no, i’m not doing this with you if you’re just gonna speak to me like i’m a child. i’m your equal as you’re mine, be a fucking adult and stop speaking to me like i’m not a grown man.”

— how he would make it up to you

you both take some time away from the conversation and reconvene when you’re both calm. funnily enough, in the early days of your relationship, you both promised each other that during a fight you guys had to hold hands. especially when you both felt it was necessary. so as you guys hold hands, like you do every fight, you hear each other out. you apologize for the wrongdoings and neglection between the both of you. “i’m sorry for cursing at you earlier, i was frustrated but that’s not excuse. you are my woman, my love and you deserve more than the lowest words that leave someone’s mouth being spewed in your direction.” you both laugh at his cheesiness, but nonetheless you forgive him because you in fact did need that wakeup call.

he spends the rest of the day giving you space if you so choose. if not, then he just hangs out with you and does whatever you want. watching tv, playing games, just chatting, it’s simple moments like these when he remembers why he fell in love with you in the first place.

sim jaeyun

— what he does (& how it starts)

jake is such a sweet person, such a soft, kindhearted individual and i feel like it would take a lot to get him truly angry. with people like him, either they’re super sensitive or it takes a lot to really get them there. how he is with others, we don’t know. but with you, he loves you so much that he’s more than willing to be patient with you. “ok, she had a bad day. let me give her space.” “she just gave me an attitude for no reason, let me just make her something to take her mind off what’s bothering her.” and he lets you slide, he doesn’t say anything. he just shows that he cares and leaves you alone. but one day, one fateful day, when you come home and give him an attitude when he tries to ask you about your day “hi, my angel. how was your day?” “jake, not now. just leave me alone.” he just can’t hold back anymore. “ok, don’t take this the wrong way but…what the fuck is your problem these days?”

this would send fire through you because you’ve been waiting for a reason to take your anger out on someone. “why the fuck are you speaking to me like that?” and this would open the floodgates. “because you’ve been speaking to me like i did something to you. you’ve been in a weird mood these last few days and i’ve been letting you slide but now this is getting to be too much. i’m not a fucking doormat. you may be in a bad mood but i’m your man, and you’re gonna respect me.” “but i’ve just been in a mood and you keep sweating me!” “you think i give a shit about a mood? you—babe (this is where the aggravation comes in)…then you say ‘baby, i’m not in a good mood and i would like to be alone for a while.’ you don’t shut me out for 2 days and then get mad when i confront you about it.”

— how he would make it up to you

ok he did in fact eat you up just then! but still, you may be pissed but what makes sense, makes sense. “you’re right. 100%. i should’ve spoken to you about it and asked for that space. i’m sorry for the way i spoke to you, i love you. i hope you can forgive me.” it really is that simple but jake is still frustrated and at this point comes to tears because he feels hurt that you didn’t even trust him enough to come to him about what was bothering you and it even boiled over to this point. at this point, he would start having doubts about him as your boyfriend and this would eat you alive. But he would apologize himself too. “i’ll always forgive you, always. but this can’t be happening, it’s fine if you come home after a hard day and you want space. that’s more than okay, but when you start getting disrespectful for no reason is where i draw the line. we’re adults here and this is not something that we should be engaging in if this is how we’re gonna be communicating from now on. this has to be fixed. now, because that was crazy.” 

you agree, and for the rest of the day talk as long as you guys need to, you talk about what was bothering you in the first place, also setting new boundaries to ensure this doesn’t happen again!!

park sunghoon

— what he does (& how it starts)

sunghoon is a very quiet person, though he isn’t emotionless. he loves you more than you’d know and at times he doesn’t necessarily know how to show it. i’ve said this before so this isn’t news. if it’s anything outside of an ‘i love you’ then it’s just not him. but, i think there will be a day where you’re feeling extra affectionate with him and he’s just not feeling it. it starts super small though, just how clingy you’re being. but he’s literally just not reciprocating. he’ll just brush you off with a “not now, i’m not in the mood.” which is confusing, because yes, he’s allowed to not be in the mood but even when you aren’t in the mood, you still show up for him when he needs it the most. it’s just a mix of you feeling rejected, unwanted, and his own selfishness.

so when you do bring it up, he just doesn’t see much wrong. “why are you being so mean to me, sunghoon?” “i’m not being mean, i just don’t wanna be bothered.” 

he’s not trying to hurt you, but he lowkey sucks at expressing his own feelings when he’s overwhelmed or off. he probably shuts down emotionally mid-argument, giving those short, clipped answers, and might even physically distance himself like, “i need a minute.” it’s not mean, it’s just peak avoidant attachment type of behavior on his end.

— how he would make it up to you

once he has time to sit with his feelings, guilt hits hard. he hates knowing he made you feel unwanted, especially when you were just trying to be close. he’s so bad at verbal apologies at first, but you’d definitely wake up to him being extra sweet—like bringing you coffee. but because he’s so uncomfortable with verbal affection, he’d write you a little letter to truly let you know how apologetic he is. as he’s giving you this letter, he debates reading it to you, or handing it to you then scrambling out of the room. but scrambling out is the exact reason he’s here in the first place. so he goes with the former:

“dear my star, 

i have absolutely no sort of emotional wherewithal and this is just my way of telling you that i love you. i love you so much it makes me feel like love isn’t even the right word to use in the context of you. i don’t ever in my life want to make you feel like you cannot talk to me, like you’re an impudence when you are really the best part of my day. nothing makes me feel better than when i come home after a long day then to see your face. even hugging you close, smelling your perfume while i stink from the sweat and you shouldn’t even be hugging me because you just showered. but you don’t care, you just want me. i’m sorry for making you feel like you’re not the best fucking thing to happen to me. i’m sorry for not giving you what you need at moments when i feel like i’m not up to it. when there are days you’re clearly not up to it and still give me every last inch of you. i promise that i will adhere to your love languages, even though that’s something i should’ve been doing already. i love you, my star. and please, whenever i slip or anything, remind me of this promise. the promise we both made to love each other through the speedbumps and hiccups to the mountains and heart attacks. but i am promising that i will work to become the best partner for you until the day my maker calls me home. i’m nothing if not a man of my word.

love always,

your moon, sunghoon”

he’d be smiling while you're nearly in tears and he’s just laughing at his little rhyming scheme. “get it? moon? sunghoon?” and you’d just call him a fucking loser and give him the tightest hug and sloppiest kiss he’s ever gotten in his life.

but he’s made very good on his promise. telling you he loves you and fully indulging in anything that you want to do and he finds that he quite likes being affectionate because it makes him feel so good to see you feel like you’re well taken care of. because as long as you’re with him, you are.

Copyright: © zorange13. 2025. All rights reserved. Do not repost, copy, or distribute without permission.

[cameronsbabydoll]

More angst more angst

SCC reader and Rafe get into a fight, probably about something small like she forgot to iron his work shirt so he had to do it himself. He’s yelling at her, making all these snide and mean comments trying to provoke her and she just looks at him with big teary eyes but doesn’t say anything back, she’s too exhausted.

She’s in her first trimester with their last kid and she’s probably in the worst mental state at this point, forgetting things, sleeping all day, being distant with Rafe, just sitting outside staring at the water.

After their fight she just hides out in her daughters room until bed time, she’s playing dolls, tea party, or watching a movie that reader used to like with her daughter, maybe their son comes in to join them watching the movie (her only refuge at this point)

But her little girl is smart and maybe asks her “momma why you sad?” Idk how old she is that this point but in my mind she’s maybe like 5-7. Reader just softly says that she’s just tired bc of the baby. Maybe her daughter gives her one of her stuffed animals to help her sleep better bc she’s a sweetheart like that.

After bedtime, reader locks herself in her and rafes bathroom sobbing with the stuffed bunny in her clutches. Rafe is in their room and he hears her entire breakdown, it’s eating him alive. He didn’t have to be so mean to her, she already gave him 2 kids, so what she forgot to iron a shirt? She’s growing a baby. His baby.

Reader comes out with tears down her face and starts prepping everyone’s clothes for the week, it’s 11 pm at this point, the house is quiet, but rafes mind is going a mile per minute. He tells her that she doesn’t need to do the laundry rn, that it’s late and she should get some sleep, he just casually says that he’ll hire a housekeeper/maid to help her with the house now bc she’s got bigger things to worry abt than his stupid clothes.

“Money can’t fix all our problems Rafe”

Reader is just baffled at how quick he tries to throw money at the problem. Just hire a maid, hire a housekeeper, hire a chef, hire a babysitter. He can’t throw money at this problem tho, she’s unhappy and he sees that. It’s hard to pretend now. The reality is staring him in the face.

He tries to hug her bc she’s still crying maybe she just rejects it fully and she just says “I don’t know if I can live like this anymore”

Now he’s freaking out. Is she trying to leave him? Is there another man? Are their children actually his?

She just stares outside to the ocean. “ maybe I’ll just walk into the sea and let it take me, anywhere is better than here right now.”

Rafe literally stops in his tracks once he understands the gravity of what she’s saying. He gets her a therapist that next morning.

stuffed bunnies & silence

content warnings (cw): emotional neglect, verbal argument, pregnancy-related depression, implied prenatal anxiety, crying breakdown, child emotional awareness, emotional vulnerability, themes of exhaustion and isolation in motherhood

you forgot to iron his shirt.

it wasn’t on purpose. you’d meant to. you always did. but this morning your head was heavy and your back hurt and the second your eyes opened, the nausea rolled in like a wave. so no, you didn’t iron the shirt. and now rafe’s standing in the doorway, holding it up like some kind of trophy in a screaming match you didn’t want to be a part of.

“you don’t do anything anymore,” he snaps. “you just fucking lay around all day. i have to do everything myself.”

you don’t say anything.

you just look at him with wet eyes, lip trembling, shoulders drawn in tight. your hand instinctively covers your belly, not even showing yet, but already wrecking you. your body, your mind, your heart. everything hurts, and he’s acting like a wrinkled shirt is the end of the goddamn world.

“jesus christ,” he mutters, yanking it on and brushing past you. “don’t just fucking stand there like a kicked puppy. say something.”

but you can’t.

so you hide.

you find yourself in your daughter’s room, the softest place in the house. she’s on the floor with her dolls, her legs tangled in a blanket, humming to herself. you sit with her, quiet, letting her hand you teacups and glittery plastic spoons. at some point your son wanders in and settles beside you, and they start playing a movie — one you used to love when you were a kid. you stare at the screen but you’re not really watching.

your daughter notices. she always does.

“mommy?” she asks gently.

you hum in response, too tired to speak.

“why you sad?”

your throat tightens. you force a smile, stroking her hair.

“just tired, baby. the baby’s makin’ mommy real sleepy.”

she nods like she understands. then disappears and returns with her favorite stuffed bunny — soft and worn down, with one floppy ear and a stitched-up leg. she sets it in your lap.

“she helps me sleep when i’m sad. you can borrow her.”

that’s when your chest breaks. you hug her tight and thank her, barely holding it together.

bedtime comes. the house goes still. you slip into the bathroom and lock the door behind you. you sit on the cold tile and cry into that bunny until your chest aches and your face is blotchy. deep, ugly sobs. it’s not just the pregnancy. it’s everything. you’re drowning, and no one sees it but you.

except rafe hears.

he’s on the other side of the door, sitting on the bed with his head in his hands. his shirt is wrinkled and suddenly he feels like the biggest asshole in the world. you’re growing his third kid, and he made you cry over a goddamn shirt.

when you come out, your face is swollen and your nose is red, but you keep moving. you head straight to the laundry room and start folding clothes. it’s past 11. you haven’t eaten. your legs shake a little.

“you don’t have to do that right now,” rafe says quietly. “it’s late. come to bed. i’ll hire someone. a maid. a housekeeper. whatever you need. you shouldn’t have to do all this.”

you pause.

and then, with that same quiet voice you’ve had all day, you look at him and say:

“money can’t fix all our problems, rafe.”

and for once, he doesn’t have anything to say. because you’re right. and this time, he can’t throw money at the wreckage and pretend it’s fine. not when you’re standing there, holding a child’s stuffed bunny like it’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart

[misskingshit]

I hate u (but not really)

summary: She’s impulsive. He’s impossible. Teamed up on missions and constantly at each other’s throats, they’d rather fight than cooperate.

note: Im telling u, this is gonna be a series, and it’s gonna be THE BEST, ok maybe not but still kinda good. (plus, i had to edit this in my phone so if titles or shit like that are not aligned or well situated it’s bc I cannot make it any better on my phone, sorry!).xoxo

Chapter I - Chapter II - Chapter III - Chapter IV

Too young, too bitter (chapter I)

mission gone wrong, obviously his fault

“You want me to follow him?” you ask, deadpan, staring at the glowing mission tablet in your hands. “You’re joking.”

“Nope,” Natasha replies without looking up from her gear bag. “You’re on recon with Barnes. Sam and I take the northern perimeter. Steve’s running point with Wanda.”

You glance across the hangar. Bucky stands at the Quinjet, arms crossed, looking like someone just asked him to eat a salad for breakfast.

“Can’t I just—switch with Sam or something?” you plead. “I’d rather spend two hours listening to Tony explain quantum physics in Klingon than spend one more minute with his cranky ass.”

From across the hangar, Bucky raises an eyebrow. “You know I can hear you, right?”

You don’t even flinch. “Good.”

He scoffs and turns back to the Quinjet. You groan.

Later, high above the city skyline, the two of you move through the crumbling remains of an abandoned HYDRA base. You’re nimble, fast, clearing rooms ahead of him like a blur.

“You going to keep rushing ahead like a toddler on Red Bull?” Bucky mutters through comms.

“You going to keep walking like your hips are made of rust and regret?” you shoot back.

“Maybe if someone followed the damn plan—”

“Maybe if someone updated their attitude post-WWII—”

“Guys,” Natasha cuts in over comms. “Shut up.”

You both go silent.

But it doesn’t last.

In one of the darker corridors, a security turret snaps to life.

You dodge. Bucky shoots. It barely misses your shoulder.

“Are you trying to kill me?” you snap, panting behind cover.

“You jumped in front of my shot!”

“I moved like a normal person. You aimed like my grandma.”

His voice comes through low and annoyed: “If you’d stop acting like a reckless kid—”

“And if you’d stop acting like every decision is life or death, maybe we wouldn’t be stuck in this eternal pissing contest!”

There’s a pause.

“Is that what this is? A contest?” he says, dryly.

“No,” you reply, stepping out from cover, voice icy. “Because I’m already winning.”

cold war (a.k.a the pettiest show on Earth)

Back at the tower, your feud reaches a level of childish few Avengers have witnessed before.

The thermostat war begins Monday.

You like the lounge at a cool 21°C. Bucky, the 106-year-old relic of a man, insists on setting it to an unholy 25. You start changing it every time he leaves the room. He starts locking the settings.

You hack it.

He disconnects it from the Wi-Fi.

You tape a printed photo of yourself next to the controls flipping the bird with a sticky note: "This war is mine."

Tuesday, you label everything in the fridge.

Not just your food. Everything.

"YOGURT — NOT BUCKY'S"

"JUICE — MINE. NOT GRUMPY GHOST VETERAN'S."

"LEFTOVER PASTA — TOUCHED BY ME. HOPE YOU LIKE GERMS."

The next day, your stash is replaced with MREs and a Post-it that just says “Try being less annoying.”

You leave his arm polish in the freezer.

He doesn’t speak to you for two days.

things (almost) gets physical

You’re sparring in the gym. Steve pairs you up intentionally, everyone in the tower Stark can’t take anymore you two fighting and failing on missions all the time.

You glare at Bucky from across the mat. He rolls his eyes.

"You know, we could skip this,” he mutters, rolling his shoulder.

“What, afraid I’ll kick your ass?” you ask sweetly.

“I’m afraid I’ll say something you’ll cry about for three hours.”

You lunge. He blocks. You spin and catch him with a leg sweep, sending him stumbling.

He recovers fast, grabs your arm, and flips you—hard. You hit the mat with a dull thud.

“Oops,” he says, smirking.

“You’re such a child,” you hiss, wiping blood from your lip.

“Says the one who labeled her yogurt.”

You go at him again, and this time, your fight looks more like a bar brawl than training. Steve has to physically step between you, catching your wrist mid-swing.

“Okay!” he says, laughing nervously. “Let’s dial it back.”

Bucky huffs and storms off.

You’re left breathless, heart pounding—not just from the fight.

There was a moment in there.

A second where he was above you on the mat, hands gripping your wrists, your faces inches apart, and your pulse jumped for a completely different reason.

You haven’t stopped thinking about it since.

white flag

It’s a week later when you find Bucky alone on the balcony during one of Tony’s ridiculous rooftop parties. Everyone else is drinking and dancing under string lights. He’s nursing a beer, watching the city.

You don’t say anything at first. Just lean next to him, close enough to feel his presence but not close enough to be soft.

He glances at you.

You both sigh at the same time.

“I still think you’re too bitter for your own good,” you say eventually.

He chuckles. “And you’re still an immature pain in my ass.”

You clink your glass against his bottle.

“Glad we understand each other.”

He glances sideways at you, and for the first time, there’s no venom in it.

Just something... complicated.

“You’re not that bad,” he says.

You smirk. “Careful. That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

You stand in silence again, this time comfortably. Maybe this cold war isn’t over. But you’ve both stopped firing missiles.

For now.

Would you like a follow-up chapter where all this tension explodes into something more intimate (or romantic), or maybe a scene where they have to pretend to get along during a mission undercover as a couple?

[kyucipher]

WHY?? WHY DON'T THEY LIKE THEMSELVES???? WHAT HAPPENED?? THEY ARE SO COOL 😭 LEIKO I'M GOING TO PUNCH YOU UNTIL YOU LOVE YOURSELF!!!

I've been trying to come up with cool ways to answer this question for a good while now, but I'm stuck so... I guess that I'll just try my best to explain things "briefly" using some of the art I already had previously

The Leiko Lore (part 1)

Well, for starters, Leiko's family situation wasn't really ideal. Their parents were dumb kids and ended up having a... happy little accident while still in high school. Junji (their father) decided to take responsibility and drop out of the school to find a job and provide for the family. However, things weren't really going well because most places didn't want to hire someone, so... scary looking. In a desperate move, Junji ended up joining a small group of villains who gained interest in him bc of his quirk and intelligence.

Unfortunately, everything went to shit when Leiko was around 4 years old. Junji ended up getting arrested during a failed heist attempt, but Leiko's parents decided to lie and pretend like he had just gone to a business trip! It was a lot to explain to a kid...

Leiko had always been taught that there were certain rules that they needed to follow that only really applied to... people like them. As much as they were warned about possible bullying in the future, they didn't think it would happen so suddenly. Their first days of school were hell. Not only were they a big mixed "girl", but other kids also wouldn't stop asking uncomfortable questions about their face or just making rude comments in general. At some point, they even got nicknamed "Onimaru" by their classmates for having a... demon face.

However, they never really told their mom about the bullying because they knew how tired Lailah was from working and having to raise them alone. So they stayed quiet... until one of their classmates found out about their dad and proceeded to tell it to everyone during lunch. That day was a disaster- Leiko got home having a meltdown about everything, yelling at their mom for lying and then locking themself inside their room. In there, they got paranoid and cut their own hair because it was the only pretty thing they had and... they didn't deserve it.

Lailah eventually checked on them and apologized for everything that happened. She had to explain their circumstances and the many mistakes their family had to do because of recklessness. It helped Leiko feel a bit better about the situation. It gave them a sense of relief that things could get better.

Things didn't get better! Or worse, really- The bullying was still happening, but they kinda just... started ignoring everyone and focusing solely on books from then on. Not exactly the best coping mechanism, but it worked! But for the good news, their dad was finally released from jail after 8 years!! Junji apologized for everything that happened and promised to be better for their family's sake. And around that time they also decided what they wanted to be in the future.

Once they got accepted into UA, things started getting better! Leiko was pretty quiet and isolated during their first year, but eventually met a fellow quiet kid who also happened to love reading. That kid also ended up showing them a lot of new... possibilities.

Their second year was very eventful! Accidentally befriended a loud blonde kid, proceeded to date him for 2 months before breaking up (They knew they worked better as friends), but during that time period also befriended his friends!

Kinda, they weren't that close to Oboro from the start. He was so confident and flirty and... that made them uncomfortable. They weren't really used to that, considering that they grew up as "that one girl boys asked out as a joke" and then evolved into "hot body but ugly face"

Eventually, they both did get to talk about their feelings in private and solve the issue. Leiko understood that Oboro was just a really cheerful and supportive person in general who loved to see others smile. He even advised them that they shouldn't have to hide their face with a mask because everyone should be able to see their smile.

So yeah!! The future was looking promising! They had great friends, a loving family, a great mentor who took them, and Li under his wing after the sports festival, and big hopes ahead!

...

Then Oboro died.

It was a big shock to the whole friend group. As much as Leiko only started getting closer to him recently, they still felt the impact he left on their friends and even on them. Maybe Oboro was right... Maybe they didn't need the mask anymore.

Things were mostly chill after graduation. They were working as a sidekick for their mentor alongside Li, who also turned into their partner-in-crime (platonic) when they both decided to move out together. Honestly, life was pretty good once again!

Until Ayumi happened.

AAAAND I'M GONNA STOP IT HERE! Goddamn I talked a lot- I hope you guys find this fun to read through!

Maybe we can even talk about what happened during Leiko's 20s if people are interested :Pc

[crazydestinymilkshake]

Caitlin Clark x Kate Martin Ch 23 PART 1

AHHH we're so lucky we got such an amazing CC game today. Was sad Kate wasn't with her at Carver and inspired me to crank this out.

This is a series of team & CC/KM vignettes from Caitlin's sophomore Fall, ranging from ~ September - Halloween when the season picks back up on Nov 1.

Wanted this to be lighter so more head canons of team at college, scavenger hunts, doing dumb college shit together and bonding. I consider the other half of this chapter really one with this, but apparently i write too much bc i had too many character's for one post and I wanted to split it up at an appropriate time. So Halloween half will come tomorrow :) worth the waiit! (Read chaps seven & eight halloween freshman year here for more context).

NSFW: WLW, Smut, Edibles/drug use, plot. All revious chapters below.

Disclaimer: This is my first time writing a fic! Any feedback is welcome. Friends -> lovers, Caitlin's gay-awakening. I obviously don't own any of the rights to these characters etc.

Kate walked across campus with her hands deep in her hoodie pocket and heat still sitting low in her spine. Not adrenaline. Not nerves. Just… something solid.

She was sore. Not the bad kind. The kind that reminded her what she’d given Caitlin earlier that day. Caitlin had pulled her in, sharpened her, kissed her slowly, and said you’re back like it was already true. Maybe it was.

Now, Kate moved with purpose. Sunglasses on. Hood up. Headphones in—Drake playing low. Just enough to keep her thoughts quiet.

Caitlin was probably still on the couch. Loose-limbed. Glowing. Sore in a way Kate didn’t let herself think about too long.

There was film. Strategy. Leadership meetings.

If they were going to be great—actually great—it wasn’t going to be by accident. Not because Caitlin had to hero 40 minutes a game. Not on hype. Not luck.

It would be because they built something tight. Disciplined. Real.

She hadn’t said it out loud. Not to Caitlin. Not to anyone.

But the thought stuck to her ribs: What if she leaves?

She hadn’t meant it the first time. But now it showed up too easily. Her parents were back. NIL conversations were taking over for every athlete, not justin Caitlin. Nothing next year was guaranteed.

So Kate left a note. Sharp. No frills. YOU’RE EVERYTHING. DON’T FORGET.

By the time she stepped into the film room, her jaw was set. Her body was calm.

Monika twirled a pen like she meant to use it. McKenna leaned back like the chair was hers. Coach Bluder had her coffee and her calm. Jan stood by the wall, arms crossed. Watching.

Kate nodded once. Sat down. Crossed one leg over the other. Back straight. Hands still.

She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to—not yet. The room smelled like dry-erase markers and disinfectant. A whiteboard hung behind them, still haunted by last week’s notes.

Coach Bluder broke the silence. “Alright. Let’s talk about goals.”

McKenna raised her hand. “No losing.”

“Great,” Bluder deadpanned.

Monika shrugged. “Win the Big Ten. Make the elite Eight minimum.”

Kate didn’t say anything.

Jan tilted her head. “Katie?” Kate looked down once, then back up. Her voice was even, clipped. But the edge was there if you listened.

“We have a shot. A real one.”

Bluder nodded. “We do.”

“But only if we stop waiting to get serious. Not in January. Not when we’re 4–0 and feeling good.”

“We will be 4–0,” McKenna said.

Kate didn’t flinch. “Not the point.”

Monika raised a brow. “You think we’re not locked in?”

“Caitlin wants a championship,” she says. “Not just for herself. For all of us. But she’s not going to wait around forever for it.” Kate sighed. “I think we’re not aligned,” Kate said. “We train hard. We know plays. But we don’t know each other. Not the way we need to. Not for March.” She leaned forward, elbows to knees. “I’ve been on teams with talent. I’ve been on teams with chemistry. This year has to be both. This year has to be everything.”

She didn’t say: We have the most-watched player in the country, and she might not stay if we blow it. Didn’t say: She finally believes in this place again. I can’t be the reason she stops.

But Jan heard it anyway. Her eyes narrowed. Not harsh—just sure.

Bluder looked at Kate. “So what’s your pitch?”

Kate sat up straighter. “Structured team bonding. Captains running extra lifts. Accountability pods. Small group check-ins. And we lead it—top down. No exceptions.”

Jan raised an eyebrow. “You want a culture reset.”

Kate nodded once. “I want to do whatever it takes to win with the people I love.”

Silence.

Then McKenna, leaning forward. “I’m in.”

Monika smirked. “Tell me where to be, Captain.”

Jan didn’t say anything. Just watched her niece, quiet.

Later, when the others filed out, Jan stayed back.

“You’re doing good,” she said.

Kate shrugged. “Just trying to lead.”

Jan gave her a long look. Then: “You’re scared she’ll leave.”

Kate exhaled through her nose. “She loves it here.”

“But you think if it stops being enough—if it gets too hard—she’ll go.”

Kate didn’t answer.

Jan stepped forward. Rested a hand on her shoulder.

“Then make it more than enough,” she said. “Don’t chase her. Lead like she already chose you.”

Kate nodded once, slow. Breath tight in her chest.

Later that night, she opened the team group chat.

KATE: 7:30am lifts start tomorrow. I’ll bring the aux. Don’t make me regret it. GABBY: So can I DJ? KATE: define “DJ” SYDNEY: does this mean i have to wake up before 9am? MCKENNA: lfg everyone's coming. yes sydney i'll pour ice water on your head tomorrow at 7.

Kate didn’t respond.

She just dropped her phone on her nightstand, pulled her hoodie over her head, and set her alarm.

—-----------------------

The weeks slipped by fast and loud. Not soft. Not easy. But good.

7:30 lifts turned into law. Kate never made a speech about it. She didn’t have to. She just showed up, every day, already warm, aux plugged in, waiting. 

The team followed.

Sydney brought complaints. McKenna brought spreadsheets and chaos.

They weren’t perfect, but they were building something.

The mornings bled into workouts. The workouts into practices. Bodies sore. Voices hoarse. Monika ran point on pod check-ins. Nobody said it, but it was starting to feel real.

Caitlin didn’t say much. She didn’t have to. But she watched.

Watched Sydney show up on time, even when she was dragging. Watched AJ stay late to rebound. Watched Gabby bark orders and do extra sets. They weren’t trying to impress her. They were trying to belong.

And that meant something.

She hadn’t asked for any of it—hadn’t expected them to care this much. But every time someone dived for a loose ball, stayed to stretch, checked in without being told... She felt it. That tug in her chest. The one that used to only happen during fourth quarters and film sessions.

Maybe she wasn’t the only one who wanted this. Maybe she wasn’t alone in it anymore.

And that scared the shit out of her. But it also made her want to play harder.

For them. With them.

She didn’t say any of it. Just nodded when Monika handed her the practice notes, and said, “We’re getting there.”

--------

And then came the Camp Games.

Gabby claimed it was “team bonding.” McKenna called it “chaos with cones.” Monika just muttered, “This better not involve glitter.”

No one knew who actually planned it. They all just showed up on the rec field at 4:00 PM sharp—water bottles, cleats, Gabby with a whistle she definitely stole from the training room.

Gabby shouted, arms wide like she was announcing a revolution. “Today we test your strength. Your stamina. Your soul.”

“You’re not God,” Sydney muttered.

Gabby clapped her hands like a camp counselor on espresso. “Alright! Team One: Caitlin, McKenna, Monika, and AJ.”

Caitlin fist-pumped. “Let’s go.”

“Team Two: Kate, Gabby, Sydney, and Jada.”

Kate raised a brow. “Seriously?”

Gabby grinned. “Random draw.”

“You are the random draw,” Kate said.

“And I’m here to cause balance,” Gabby replied, deadly serious. “Also? To beat Caitlin Clark into the dirt.”

“You wish,” Caitlin called from across the field, arms crossed.

Kate met her eyes across the grass. “Try me, superstar.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Caitlin shot back, already tying her laces tighter.

The first event was dizzy bat relays. McKenna spun so hard she careened into a cone. AJ ran backwards on accident. Somehow, Caitlin still carried them to a photo-finish win.

From the other side of the field, Kate pointed at her. “I’m still not scared.”

“Give it a minute,” Caitlin said, jogging past her.

Next: tug-of-war. Gabby wrapped the jump rope around her forearms like she was entering the octagon. Kate stood anchor, feet dug in, biceps flexing.

Caitlin stared from across the rope.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Kate said under her breath.

“You should be,” Caitlin said. “I’m competitive and petty.”

“You’re also small.”

“Fast,” Caitlin corrected.

“Still gonna lose.”

“Over my dead body.”

Gabby blew the whistle.

They pulled.

AJ screamed. Sydney cursed. Gabby cackled.

Caitlin dug in, legs burning, teeth gritted.

Kate grunted and gave one last heave—and Team Two won.

Caitlin dropped the rope and stared at her, breathing hard. “Enjoy it. It’s your last one.”

Kate smirked. “We’ll see.”

Third event: human knot.

Gabby shoved her team into the mess like it was dodgeball tryouts. “We’re flexible and emotionally intelligent,” she yelled.

“Speak for yourself,” Sydney muttered.

McKenna attempted yoga. Jada nearly punched Gabby in the face. Monika gave directions in three languages. Caitlin, in the center of it all, shouted, “Can we get organized for five seconds?!”

“You sound like my therapist,” AJ said.

Kate’s team finished first. Barely.

Gabby did a cartwheel to celebrate.

Final event: the gauntlet. Cones. Leapfrogging. Dizzy spins. One mini hoop zip-tied to a trash can.

Caitlin cracked her knuckles. “This is mine.”

Kate leaned in, close enough to catch her eye. “You sure?”

“I was born for this,” Caitlin said.

“Then show me.”

Gabby blew the whistle.

Caitlin flew. Over cones, around bodies, through chaos.

Kate watched from the sidelines, heart hammering. She knew that posture. That fire. The way Caitlin didn’t hold back, didn’t slow down, even when it was supposed to be a joke.

She spun. Shot.

Swish.

First make all day.

She threw both hands in the air and shouted, “LET’S GOOOO!”

McKenna tackled her. AJ high-fived her. Monika yelled, “MVP of pettiness!”

Kate walked over slowly, clapping once.

“That was hot,” she said.

Caitlin raised a brow. “That was victory.”

Kate tilted her head. “Pretty sure it was a tie.”

“We won by vibes.”

“Debatable.”

“Eat grass.”

“You wish.”

They stood there, flushed and smug and way too happy for two people who just spent an hour pretending this was all just fun.

Later, in the dining hall, Caitlin collapsed next to AJ with two grilled cheeses and a gallon of Gatorade. Her face was red. Her voice was hoarse.

She still couldn’t stop smiling.

McKenna was telling someone about her “elite leapfrog form.” Sydney swore she saw God mid-spin. Gabby recapped the day in third person.

Later that night, the hallway buzz had died down. Group chats slowed. The only sound in the common room was the muted hum of a fridge and the occasional clink of ice in someone’s water bottle down the hall.

Kate was already there—hoodie half-zipped, knees pulled to her chest on the couch, remote in one hand, half-watching a muted episode of Shark Tank. Her hair was damp. Her body looked like it had finally remembered how to rest.

Caitlin dropped onto the other end of the couch, stretched her legs out. They didn’t speak for a minute.

Caitlin stretched out her legs with a quiet groan. “My legs are destroyed.”

Kate smirked. “You did try to out-sprint the laws of physics.”

“I won two events.”

“You nearly face-planted into a garbage can.”

Caitlin grinned. “Still counts.”

They sat for a beat. The light from the TV flickered across the walls.

Then Caitlin said, softer, “You felt really... present today.”

Kate blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” Caitlin shrugged. “You just seemed locked in. With the team. With all of it.”

Kate nodded slowly. “Trying to be.”

Caitlin looked at her. “It matters.”

Kate raised a brow. “To who?”

“To me,” Caitlin said. “To all of us. When you lead like that—when you’re really in it—it changes the whole room.”

Kate let that settle. Then, gently: “Why does winning matter so much to you?”

Caitlin frowned. “What do you mean?”

Kate turned toward her slightly, knees almost touching. “Winning. Pushing. Needing to be the best at everything. Even in a dumb relay race with Gabby screaming about glory. You don’t ease off—not ever.”

Caitlin opened her mouth, then closed it again. Her fingers found the frayed edge of her hoodie sleeve.

“It’s not about proving something,” she said. “Not really. It’s about… what happens when I’m in it.”

Kate tilted her head. Said nothing.

Caitlin exhaled. “When I’m locked in—when the ball leaves my hand and I know it’s good before it even hits the net—something clicks. Like the world slows down. Like I’m outside of it, but also exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

Her eyes stayed on her lap, but her voice steadied.

“I can remember every step of a play. Where everyone was standing. The angle of their feet. The arc of the pass. I can feel it—like it’s still happening. I play it back in my head like a movie. Like... I don’t know. Like instant replay, but in my brain.”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Caitlin nodded. “You remember Indiana last season? Senior night. Tie game. 63–63. Twelve seconds on the clock.”

Kate blinked. “That fadeaway?”

“You had #14 on you—Daniels. Six-one and twitchy. She overcommitted on the screen and you split it anyway. You faked the drive, pulled back baseline. Two dribbles. You planted your left foot just inside the hash and rose. That little kick you do with your right leg when you shoot off-balance?” Everyone thought you were gonna pass out to McKenna, but I knew. You had that twitch in your shoulder you get before you spin. I watched their forward bite early, and you—God, you were already in the air.”

Kate let out a breath. “Jesus.”

Caitlin wasn’t done. “The arc was clean. Ball left your hand with 1.2 seconds left. I watched their 5—#44—start to crash the boards before the buzzer even sounded. And I knew. Before it even dropped, I knew.”

Caitlin kept going. “And I can still see it. The arc. The release. The way your wrist snapped. The girl under the basket flinched before it went in, because she knew too.”

Kate swallowed.

“And it’s not just your shots,” Caitlin added. “I remember my own too. Sophomore year of high school, state semis. We were down by two. I got the inbound with six seconds. Drove right, crossed left at the elbow. Their guard trailed. I pulled up from thirty. My right foot landed just behind the volleyball line. There was 0.3 left when it went through.”

Kate let out a low whistle.

“I didn’t even watch it fall,” Caitlin murmured. “I just knew. The net sounded right. My balance was perfect. It felt… holy. Like something outside myself was moving through me.”

She looked up at Kate, eyes soft but electric. “That’s why I push so hard. That’s why I care. Not to prove something. But because those moments? That feeling? The divine one? It doesn't just happen. I have to earn it.”

Kate didn’t speak for a long beat. She just stared at her, her throat working.

Then she reached over and took Caitlin’s hand.

“You,” she said, voice low, “are not normal.”

“I think it’s my gift,” Caitlin said. “And I don’t mean that in a cocky way. I mean it like—I was built for this. Like God or the universe or whatever just handed me this thing and said, go be a superhero. And if I don’t live up to it, if I don’t try to be the best every second, I’m wasting it.”

She finally looked up, and her voice dropped lower. “Sometimes when I’m on the court, I feel like I could do anything. I feel... holy. Like I was meant to be here, doing this. Like nothing can touch me.”

Kate didn’t speak right away. Her throat was tight. She reached over, slow and certain, and rested her hand on Caitlin’s knee. “I’ve never heard you talk about it like that,” she said quietly.

Caitlin shrugged. “I don’t. Most people just think I’m competitive and crazy.”

Kate’s thumb moved in a slow arc. “You are. But not in the way they think.”

Their eyes locked. Something settled between them. “I love that about you,” Kate said.

Caitlin swallowed. “What?”

“That you know what you were made for,” Kate said. “That you chase it without apology. It’s not just intensity. It’s... devotion.��

Caitlin’s eyes shone, just a little.

Kate leaned closer. “And if you’re a superhero,” she whispered, “then I get to be the one who keeps you human.”

Caitlin’s breath caught.

Kate’s voice was low. “You think we won't see you anymore? If you lose?”

Caitlin swallowed. “I don’t know. I think I’m scared to find out.”

They sat with that. The only sound was the soft shift of fabric as Caitlin leaned her head back against the couch.

Kate reached out and ran a hand along Caitlin’s shin, light and steady. “I think you're a super hero whennot scoring forty.”

Caitlin looked over.

“I think you're meant to be where you are when you’re laughing" Kate said. “When you’re trash-talking McKenna. When you’re tying your shoes too tight before practice and muttering about rebounding drills.”

Caitlin gave a small laugh.

Kate’s voice dropped. “I saw you today. Not just because you were winning. Because you were with people. Letting them see you back.”

Caitlin didn’t answer. Not out loud.

But she leaned in.

Their knees bumped.

Kate nudged her gently. “I want to win too, you know.”

“I know.”

“Not just for the title.”

Kate looked down at their legs, pressed side by side.

“For us,” she said quietly.

Caitlin nodded. “Okay,” she whispered. “Then let’s.”

Kate turned, just a little, enough for her knee to press more fully against Caitlin’s. Her hand lifted — tentative, careful — and brushed a loose strand of hair from Caitlin’s face.

Caitlin didn’t pull away. She leaned into the touch.

Their eyes locked. Steady. Open.

Caitlin tilted her chin up first. “I’ve been waiting for this all day.”

Kate didn’t smile. Not really. She just leaned in and kissed her—slow, deep, reverent. The kind of kiss that spoke fluently in silence. That said, I choose you. Right here. Right now.

Caitlin’s hand slid up the side of Kate’s neck. She kissed back like she meant it. Like she’d been waiting for it all day. All week. Maybe all year.

Kate’s fingers brushed Caitlin’s cheek like they’d done it a thousand times, like it was instinct now. Caitlin turned into the touch, eyes fluttering shut for half a second. When she opened them again, there was no hesitation.

“Come here,” she murmured.

Kate leaned in, slow and sure. Their mouths met—no fireworks, no frenzy. Just warmth. Just weight. The kind of kiss that deepened as it moved, like water finding the shape of something it already knew.

Caitlin’s hand slid up to cup Kate’s neck. Kate tilted her closer, kissed her again. Deeper now. Caitlin exhaled through her nose, breath catching as Kate’s thumb traced the curve of her jaw.

No rush. No fear.

Just this.

Caitlin shifted first, unfolding her legs to straddle Kate’s lap slowly, knees pressing into the couch cushions, one hand bracing on Kate’s shoulder. Her body folded into the space like it had always belonged there. Kate pulled her in tighter, their foreheads pressed together, breath shared.

“Still feel like a superhero?” Kate whispered, voice rough.

They didn’t undress fast. They didn’t need to. Caitlin pulled her sweatshirt off and let it fall behind them, then pushed Kate’s up over her ribs. Skin met skin, slow and warm. The kiss never broke—just shifted, deepened. They moved together like they had time. Like they were learning each other all over again.

Caitlin guided them back, Kate easing her down onto the cushions, fingers drawing quiet paths along Caitlin’s waist, up her spine. She whispered her name like it was sacred.

And when Caitlin whispered back, “Don’t stop,” it wasn’t about sex. It was about being seen.

Later, tangled in each other under a blanket that barely covered their legs, Caitlin lay with her head tucked under Kate’s chin. Their bodies slick with heat, their limbs humming, the window cracked open to let the early fall air in.

“I meant what I said,” Caitlin murmured.

Kate pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I know.”

“You’re not just the one who keeps me human,” Caitlin said. “You make me feel safe in my own skin.”

Kate closed her eyes.

They didn’t speak again. They didn’t have to.

The only sound was the soft rhythm of their breathing, perfectly in sync. Like the pulse of a team. Like the beat of a win already beginning.

—------

Two Fridays later, McKenna blew up the group chat at 6:03 p.m.

MCKENNA: chaos begins at 6:30. MCKENNA: locker room. MCKENNA: wear shoes you can run in or you forfeit your dignity.

Sydney replied with a string of question marks. Gabby replied with a selfie wearing a glitter headband and war paint. Caitlin sent a thumbs up and then threw on a hoodie, already half-laughing.

When they got there, a whiteboard waited with three columns: Teams, Points, and Dares. The markers were already bleeding. Someone had drawn a stick figure puking into a trash can. Beneath it: Last year’s loser.

No one admitted who made the board. Everyone blamed Gabby.

“I’m not saying I organized this,” she said, dramatically holding a clipboard she absolutely brought from her room, “but if we don’t make memories tonight, I will file a grievance.”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “With who?”

“My future therapist,” Gabby said. “Now shut up and team up.”

By 6:15, the locker room smelled like dry shampoo, lip gloss, and adrenaline. Someone was blasting the “Hot Girl Megamix” from a Bluetooth speaker duct-taped to a water jug. Jada rolled in with a glitter fanny pack. Gabby wore war paint (lipstick). AJ brought a notebook labeled “Team 2: Kill List.”

Caitlin stood near the whiteboard, sipping half a Gatorade and watching the rules take shape in real time.

DARES:

Convince a stranger to dance with you (video required)

Find a bathroom with a bidet

Take a selfie with someone named Dave

Steal a frat flag

Do a shot mid-challenge

Kiss a stranger on the cheek

Make a TikTok on a dining hall table

Climb something taller than you

Get a picture inside a moving vehicle you do not own

Bonus: get Professor Lasky to say “ball don’t lie” on camera

And twenty five other random ones.

Teams were chosen Hunger Games style—one captain picking, then the next, no trades allowed. Caitlin landed with Gabby, Sydney, and Jada, Kylie. Kate got Monika, McKenna, and AJ.

Gabby screamed, “LET’S GO YOU ABSOLUTE MENACES,” and immediately shotgunned a White Claw.

“I’m not saying this is rigged,” Gabby announced, “but I feel spiritually aligned with this team.”

“You’re literally carrying a whistle,” Jada said.

“It’s for ambiance.”

Kate didn’t argue. She was already watching Caitlin across the room. Hoodie pushed up to her elbows, hair tied back, smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Relaxed.

Kate hadn’t seen that in a while. Not like this. Not without some kind of edge.

McKenna clapped her hands. “You have ninety minutes. Each dare is worth between five and twenty points. I’m the judge. I accept bribes.”

Gabby raised her hand. “What kind of bribes?”

“Surprise me.”

The teams burst out of the locker room like it was a playoff sprint. It felt like a game. Like something no one had to be good at. Just in.

The first dare was get a selfie with a professor.

Monika saw her old psych prof across the lawn. Sydney yelled “DR. HARTMAN, WAIT” while Caitlin speed-walked backward into frame. Ten points.

Caitlin’s group sprinted across campus for “photo in the fountain”. Caitlin ripped off her shoes, splashed in barefoot, dragged Monika in with her, and screamed “JUSTICE FOR MID RANGE JUMPERS” at the top of her lungs.

Somewhere, group of freshman stared. Sydney waved.

Kate’s phone buzzed in her hoodie pocket.

MONIKA: ur girlfriend is unhinged. SYDNEY: send help. CAITLIN: [attached photo: soaked, grinning, standing in the fountain like it was the Olympic podium]

Kate grinned despite herself. “Jesus.”

Gabby elbowed her. “You’re in love with a menace.”

“I am,” Kate said.

She didn’t mean to sound proud. But maybe she was.

Half an hour in, the scoreboard was chaos. Steal a cone had been completed by everyone. Kiss a stranger on the cheek nearly started a fight, until Sydney found a drunk grad student in a cowboy hat who agreed “for democracy.”

Gabby convinced four ROTC boys to harmonize a sea shanty. She conducted them with a baguette.

Across campus, Kate's team scaled the side of the business school loading dock to get a group photo with the hawk statue. Monika sweet-talked a security guard into letting them ride an elevator to the roof. McKenna sprinted to the old gym to reenact her freshman-year concussion fall for “historical accuracy.” AJ filmed the whole thing while eating Cheez-Its out of her hoodie pocket.

Kate’s team earned twenty points by finding a statue and recreating its pose with full dramatic commitment. Caitlin’s group got fifteen for leapfrog down the quad hill. Monika tripped halfway and Caitlin laughed so hard she rolled into the grass and stayed there.

That was where Kate found her.

“Where’s your team?” Kate asked as she passed Caitlin near the library steps.

Caitlin was barefoot, dragging a foam finger and grinning like a problem child. “Gabby stole a golf cart.”

“Jesus.”

“I think Sydney’s kissing someone for points on a scooter.”

“Of course.”

“Are you jealous?”

Kate smirked. “Should I be?”

Caitlin stepped closer. “You tell me.”

Then she took off running—bare feet slapping the pavement, hair flying, laughing in that full-body way Kate had only started to hear again this semester.

Kate shook her head and jogged after her, breath caught somewhere between admiration and disbelief.

By 8:00pm, the quad was alive. The group chats were unhinged.

GABBY: who has the bidet?? AJ: why did you bring glitter SYDNEY: she told the bartender we were in the olympics JADA: technically we are athletes MONIKA: technically i’m tipsy MCKENNA: technically i just got us a selfie with the dean

They reconvened outside a house near campus—McKenna’s new off-campus grad housing place. The lights were on, music thumped, and there was a box of lukewarm pizza on the porch.

Kate leaned against the railing, drinking a spiked seltzer and watching Caitlin hold court by the fire pit. She was flushed, giddy, eyes bright in a way that had nothing to do with alcohol.

Gabby threw an arm around her and shouted, “THIS WOMAN STOLE A FLAG.”

“It was already falling down,” Caitlin said.

“You scaled the porch!”

“I’ve got good balance!”

Gabby declared herself MVP anyway. Monika tried to file an appeal. 

Jada held up a phone. “Proof,” she said, grinning. “For the record. This team carried me.”

Kate walked over, handed her a water, and touched her lower back. “You good?”

Caitlin leaned into the contact. “I think I might be,” she said. Quiet this time. Real.

Kate pressed her fingers into her hand.

Across the lawn, Monika chugged from a Solo cup and declared, “This is culture.”

McKenna yelled, “Postgame breakdown, let’s go!” and gathered everyone in a giant circle on the grass.

They went around, one by one, recapping wins, losses, mistakes, near-arrests, and Sydney’s newfound romantic interest in Max-the-scooter-guy.

When it got to Caitlin, she shrugged. “We didn’t win. But I kind of loved every second.”

Kate nudged her. “Even the foam finger part?”

“Especially the foam finger part.”

The circle turned into a pile. Someone brought out a speaker. Someone else started dancing badly. Someone passed around a bag of marshmallows, half-melted and completely unroastable.

Kate sat behind Caitlin on the grass, arms wrapped gently around her waist. The night had quieted around them—buzz of laughter still humming in the distance, the sky soft and wide above. Caitlin leaned back into her chest, fitting there like she’d always belonged, her breath steady, her body warm.

Her voice came quiet, almost careful.

“I didn’t think I’d have this,” she said. “The stupid dares. The mess. The laughter. I thought it would always just be me. Playing hard. Going home. Keeping it all inside.”

Kate didn’t answer right away. She just let the words settle. Let them stretch out between them and soften.

Then, with steady hands, she laced their fingers together. Her thumbs brushed the backs of Caitlin’s knuckles like a promise.

“You’re not alone anymore,” Kate said, low and certain.

Caitlin nodded, eyes half-closed. “I know,” she whispered. “I just didn’t know how much I needed this. How good it could feel to be… held. And still myself.”

Kate pressed a kiss to the top of her head, lingering there a second longer than she needed to.

And Caitlin leaned in closer, letting the safety wrap all the way around her. Letting herself believe it was hers to keep.

—------------------

Caitlin wasn’t sure who declared it “Academic Reset Sunday,” but McKenna brought whiteboards and color-coded schedules, so nobody dared argue.

They spread out across the library’s quiet second floor—pods of athletes hunched over laptops and notebooks, highlighters scattered like confetti. Sydney tried to quiz Jada on macroeconomics with flashcards shaped like basketballs. Gabby kept shushing everyone, loudly.

Kate had claimed a table in the back corner, far from the stairs, tucked beneath a skylight and a crooked poster about plagiarism. She looked unfairly good in a crewneck and blue-light glasses, legs kicked out in front of her, laptop open but untouched.

Caitlin slid into the chair beside her, a little too close. She didn’t open her laptop.

Kate didn’t look up. “Are you planning on studying?”

“I’m planning on pretending to.”

Kate leaned back in her chair. “So you came here to flirt?”

Caitlin tilted her head. “If I flirt in APA format, does it count as work?”

That earned a quiet laugh. Kate reached out, tugged Caitlin’s chair even closer with her foot. Their knees bumped under the table. Caitlin’s breath caught.

She opened her laptop, finally. But didn’t touch the keyboard. Instead, she pulled out her phone.

Two seconds later, Kate’s screen lit up.

CC: Your legs look illegal in those jeans.

Kate’s eyes flicked over. She didn’t react, at least not visibly. Just typed back.

Kate: Focus on your readings, superstar.

CC: I’m trying. But you keep flexing.

Kate didn’t look away this time. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I’m focused,” Caitlin whispered. “Just on the wrong subject.”

Another buzz.

Kate: You want me to drag you into the stacks and make you earn this A?

Caitlin’s throat went dry.

Her laptop was open to a syllabus. She couldn’t read a single word of it.

Across the room, Gabby giggled at something McKenna was scolding her for. Sydney threw a pencil and missed. But the back corner stayed still. Quiet. Charged.

Caitlin’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, then typed:

CC: Say more.

Kate didn’t reply. She leaned in—just barely—and said, low, “If I do, you’ll fail out.”

Caitlin blinked. Swallowed. Sat very, very still.

They didn’t touch. Not technically.

But their knees stayed pressed together. Their bodies tilted just slightly in. The air between them practically hummed.

A shadow fell across the table.

“Hey—uh, Kate?” a voice said. “Sorry. I heard you took Econ 203 once ?

It was Emily, a freshman with a messy bun and a nervous grip on her syllabus. She clutched a textbook like it might bite her.

Kate blinked, sitting up straighter. “Yeah. You in Barnard’s section?”

Emily nodded. “Her slides are insane. I don’t even know what ‘inelasticity’ means.”

Kate smiled—gentle, warm, professional. The version of her that wore a captain’s band like armor. “Alright. Show me what you’ve got.”

Caitlin stayed quiet. She scrolled meaninglessly through her open doc, every word blurring past. Her body still buzzed with what Kate had texted. What Kate hadn’t said out loud. Her knee kept brushing Kate’s. Her skin was too hot for a library.

Kate talked Emily through a few formulas, sharp but kind, drawing graphs on a post-it note. Caitlin watched her—watched the way she explained things like she wanted them to land. She knew this Kate. The helper. The one who stayed late. Who never asked for credit. Who always carried weight like she was built for it.

And even as her voice stayed steady, Caitlin could see it: Kate’s fingers still tense on the pen. Her foot tapping once, quietly, under the table. Like she hadn’t forgotten what had just passed between them.

When Emily finally left—grateful, still confused, clutching the sticky note like a map—Caitlin turned slowly.

Kate didn’t say anything. Just exhaled once.

“You’re such a good person it’s disgusting,” Caitlin murmured.

Kate arched an eyebrow. “Turned on?”

“Dangerously.”

Kate bit her lip to keep from smiling. “We can’t.”

“I know.”

“But you’re thinking about it anyway.”

Caitlin’s voice dropped. “Every second.”

Kate’s hand drifted under the table, her fingers sliding just above Caitlin’s knee. Not rushed. Not reckless. Just steady—like she knew exactly how close she could get without getting caught.

Caitlin’s breath caught. Her hips shifted the slightest inch toward her. Their thighs touched, warm through denim. Neither looked at the other.

Kate reached under the table, hand sliding up the inside of Caitlin’s thigh—just above the knee, not quite scandalous, but dangerous enough. Her thumb moved in slow circles. Caitlin’s breath hitched.

Kate texted again.

Kate: Meet me in the stacks. Five minutes. Or I’ll lose my mind.

Caitlin didn’t reply. Just stood, slow and smooth, and stretched like she might be going to refill her water bottle. She didn’t look at Kate. Didn’t have to.

Kate followed three minutes later.

They found the far corner of the third-floor stacks—silent, dim, one flickering overhead bulb and a stray copy of a science textbook on the floor. It smelled like dust and paper and something electric.

Caitlin backed against the shelf. Kate didn’t waste time.

Their mouths crashed together in a kiss that had waited hours. Built across texts, glances, touches under tables. It was hot and tense and borderline sacrilegious in a library.

Caitlin’s fingers gripped Kate’s sweatshirt. Kate’s hand found her waist, her hip, her ribs. She pushed Caitlin gently into the shelving like it might keep her grounded.

“I thought we were being subtle,” Caitlin breathed, forehead pressed to Kate’s.

Kate brushed her lips just beneath Caitlin’s ear. “No one’s ever made me forget where I am like you do.”

Caitlin swallowed. “I missed this.”

Kate’s fingers tightened at her waist. “You mean me?”

“I mean all of it. Your hands. Your mouth. That look you get when you’re about to ruin me.”

Kate exhaled, sharp. “Jesus, Clark.”

Their eyes met, close and dark and charged.

Kate’s voice dropped to a rasp. “Say the word and I’ll show you how much I missed you.”

Caitlin’s pulse kicked. “Why are you still talking?”

Kate kissed her—harder this time. Less permission, more promise. A crash and a prayer all at Kate’s hand slid up the back of Caitlin’s neck, fingers threading into her hair. Caitlin leaned into it, mouth parting slightly, heart thudding too loud in the quiet.

They stayed like that—lips grazing, breath shared, bodies barely touching but everything between them wide open.

For one suspended second, nothing else existed.

Kate’s fingers curled into Caitlin’s waistband. Caitlin’s breath hitched. She was seconds from undoing something.

Then—

Someone cleared their throat.

Deliberate. Loud. A cough, and a voice: “Oh my GOD.”

They turned. Frozen.

Gabby stood five feet away holding a spiral notebook and a Diet Coke. She blinked at them, deadpan.

“Well,” she said. “If it isn’t the Lesbian Shadow Society.”

Kate’s hand dropped like it had been caught in the cookie jar. Caitlin stepped back so fast a copy of Intro to Psych hit the floor.

“Didn’t realize ‘study break’ meant second base.” Gabby took a sip from her water bottle. “Don’t stop on my account.”

Caitlin covered her face. “Oh my God.”

“I came looking for the sociology section,” Gabby said brightly, “and instead walked in on The L Word: Special Collections Edition.”

Kate covered her face with both hands. “Please leave.”

Gabby grinned. “This will live rent-free in my brain forever.”

“Don’t tell McKenna,” Caitlin begged.

“Fine,” Gabby said. “I’ll keep it classy.” She started to walk away, then paused dramatically. “But next time you defile a nonfiction aisle, maybe don’t do it in the dolphins and sea animals section.”

She winked, sauntered off, and added over her shoulder: “Also—ten outta ten form. Proud of you both.”

Kate groaned. “You’re not going to shut up about this, are you.”

“Absolutely not,” Gabby said. “I’m gonna tell McKenna you were doing…research.”

“Don’t,” Caitlin begged.

Caitlin leaned her head back against the shelf. “I hate her.”

Kate laughed, forehead pressed to hers. “You love her.”

“I love you,” Caitlin said—too fast, too full, like it slipped past her guard.

Kate froze for half a breath.

“Good, I love you too.” she said, and kissed her again. Soft. Certain.

—-

The week after the library, everything felt a little lighter.

Caitlin didn’t flinch when Gabby raised an eyebrow. She didn’t duck out of team meals early or sit three chairs away from Kate just to be safe. She let herself be seen—still cautious, still private, but no longer pretending she didn’t care. The team noticed, of course. They didn’t say anything. Not directly. But Caitlin caught the way AJ smiled at her differently now. The way McKenna threw a wink Kate’s direction when Caitlin walked into the gym.

And when Gabby announced, “Team bonding. My kitchen. No questions,” no one said no.

They were walking back from practice when Kate asked, “You gonna come Thursday?”

Caitlin raised an eyebrow. “To Gabby’s stoner bake-off?”

Kate laughed. “It’s team bonding.”

“It’s a felony.”

Kate bumped their shoulders lightly. “You don’t have to get high.”

Caitlin didn’t answer right away. Her gaze stayed forward, tracking the familiar cracks in the sidewalk. “I don’t know,” she said eventually. “I’ve only ever done it once. And it wasn’t... here. It wasn’t part of this.”

Kate glanced over. “You’re worried about control?”

“I’m worried about a million things,” Caitlin said. “Testing. Judgment. Cameras. The fact that my body is basically government property.”

Kate nodded. “Valid.”

They kept walking. A squirrel darted across the path and Caitlin flinched, then rolled her eyes at herself. “Also,” she added, quieter, “I’m not great at relaxing around other people. Even when I want to be.”

Kate’s hand brushed hers once. Just once. “It won’t be pressure,” she said. “Just people who love you. And brownies that might kill us.”

That drew a smile. Caitlin looked down. “You’ll be there? With me? Through however it goes?”

Kate gave her a look. “Try keeping me away.”

Caitlin took a breath. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“If you’re there, and if no one expects anything from me... I want to try.”

Kate’s grin was soft. “It’s not a big deal, you know. But it’s also kind of a big deal.”

“I know,” Caitlin said. “That’s why I’m showing up.”

Gabby insisted she had the recipe from her older cousin. McKenna insisted she could “absolutely eyeball the dosage.” Sydney just brought a six-pack of Gatorade and said, “Whatever happens, I’m hydrating through it.” Jada and Kylie made everyone promise there'd be no phones, no recordings, no videos.

The team crowded into the kitchen like it was a challenge show. Someone turned on a chaotic playlist. Someone else lit the oven and forgot why. Kate stood at the counter pretending to supervise, arms crossed, trying not to laugh as Gabby stirred the brownie batter like it owed her money.

When the brownies came out, nobody waited for them to cool. Kylie burned her tongue. Monika claimed it tasted “a little herbal.” McKenna declared them perfect and immediately forgot where she put her phone.

Forty minutes later, Planet Earth was in full blast and chaos had taken root.

The carpet scratched lightly against Caitlin’s cheek as she let herself melt into it, limbs slack, laughter still buzzing faint in her throat. Around her, the apartment had descended into stoned chaos—Gabby narrating the penguin mating rituals like a Discovery Channel host possessed, Sydney whispering to a lava lamp, Monika and Jada deep in an argument about whether soup was a beverage.

McKenna sat on the arm of the couch, holding a tortilla like a microphone. “I just think,” she said solemnly, “that no one is ready for my mixtape.”

“You don’t rap,” Kate said from the floor, deadpan.

McKenna flipped her hair. “Yet.”

Gabby crawled over and poked Caitlin’s foot. “Do you think penguins are gay? Like statistically?”

Caitlin giggled. “What?”

“I’m just saying,” Gabby waved at the TV, where two penguins waddled in unison. “If they are, I support them. Like I support you and Kate. I would go to your wedding.”

Kate choked on her water. Caitlin buried her face in the carpet.

“You’re so high,” McKenna muttered.

“So are you!” Gabby shot back. “I saw you try to put peanut butter on a candle.”

McKenna paused. “And yet, it still tasted better than your brownies.”

Laughter echoed around the room. Kate’s head dropped back against the couch, grinning. Caitlin let her eyes drift shut, chest warm. The kind of warmth that came not just from the weed, but from being here. From being known.

The chaos simmered. Not gone, just lower—like someone had turned the volume knob halfway down.

Monika curled deeper into a pile of blankets. Gabby lay flat on the carpet now, blinking slowly at the ceiling. Someone sighed. Someone else shuffled to the kitchen for more Gatorade. For a second, it was quiet. Not awkward. Just open.

Kate was brushing chip crumbs off Caitlin’s sweatshirt when Gabby flopped down beside them like she’d just fallen out of orbit.

“Okay wait,” Gabby said, eyes wide, chin propped on her fist. “Can I say something without it being, like, a whole thing?”

Caitlin narrowed her eyes. “That’s literally never worked for you.”

“I’m being serious.”

Kate sighed. “This should be good.”

Gabby rolled onto her back, arms sprawled, eyes locked on the ceiling like it might explain her own brain to her. “So, like… I think I wanted to kiss a girl once. Maybe twice. But not in a gay way. More in a… ‘I bet she tastes like strawberry ChapStick and unearned confidence’ way.”

Caitlin snorted so hard she choked.

Kate turned to her, mock offended. “Wait—was it me?”

Gabby blinked. “No offense, but no. You scare me. Emotionally.”

Caitlin wheezed, head dropping into Kate’s lap.

“So who was it?” she managed.

Gabby hummed. “This girl from summer league. She wore cut-off sweats and had a lip ring and played pickup in Crocs. I thought that was brave. That’s when I knew.”

“Knew what?” Monika called from the kitchen.

“That I’m, like, at least a little bisexual under certain conditions,” Gabby yelled back.

“I support you!” Monika shouted.

“You should!” Gabby called. “I’m a goddamn pioneer.”

Sydney poked her head out from behind the beanbag. “You thought you were straight until twenty minutes ago.”

Gabby pointed at her solemnly. “And now I am an enigma.”

McKenna raised her Solo cup. “To bisexual chaos and strawberry ChapStick.”

They clinked invisible glasses. Laughter bubbled, bright and hazy.

Then it slowed. Not on purpose. Just the way noise does when everyone starts drifting at once. Someone muted Planet Earth. The jellyfish kept pulsing on the screen, slow and luminous.

AJ, cross-legged in the corner, didn’t look up.

“I kissed my best friend once,” she said. “In eighth grade. We never talked about it.”

The words weren’t loud. They didn’t need to be.

Gabby blinked. “Did you want to?”

AJ shrugged. “I still don’t know.”

A pause.

Caitlin felt Kate shift beside her, a slow exhale brushing against her temple. Their fingers touched, then laced together without ceremony. Caitlin didn’t look over. She didn’t have to. Kate’s presence was steady and close, like a hum beneath the noise. AJ nodded, then lifted her gaze—brief, deliberate—and let it rest on Caitlin and Kate.

Cleaner cadence, same content.

“I just think it’s cool,” she said. “The way you are.”

She didn’t explain what she meant. She didn’t have to.

And Caitlin felt it. That tiny tremor beneath her ribs. That subtle shift of being seen.

Kate didn’t speak. Just let their hands stay locked, her thumb brushing once over Caitlin’s knuckles like a quiet yes.

No one said anything else. Not for a long beat.

They just let it sit there—one more truth, one more weightless permission—in a room that, for once, could hold it.

“You make it feel… normal,” AJ said, eyes flicking away. “I never really saw that before.”

No one laughed. No one made a joke.

Instead, McKenna tipped her imaginary microphone toward AJ. “Bars.”

AJ snorted.

Gabby clutched her chest. “Are we all in love right now?”

“Shut up, Gabby,” Sydney said from behind the beanbag. “The lava lamp is about to climax.”

Laughter again—quieter this time. Softer around the edges.

And Caitlin sat in it, heart buzzing, but not with nerves. With something warmer. Fuller.

She hadn’t done anything. Hadn’t explained herself or made a speech. She’d just been—next to Kate, quiet, unhidden. And somehow, that had been enough to make someone else feel less alone.

She swallowed hard. Let it settle.

There was something sharp and new blooming in her chest. Not fear. Not shame.

Pride.

She looked around the room—her teammates half-buried in blankets and snacks, red-eyed and ridiculous—and felt, impossibly, like she belonged.

And then Kate.

Kate was sprawled just a few feet away, back propped against the couch, one knee bent, eyes soft and hazy. Her laughter had quieted into something gentler now—half a smile, slow breaths, fingers drumming a lazy rhythm against the floor.

At first, Kate didn’t feel much. Just a light fuzz behind her eyes and the way the couch seemed to breathe beneath her.

Then it hit her.

Not like a truck. More like gravity had been adjusted a few notches. Everything was a little slower. A little softer. The colors of the room leaned in. The voices got rounder. Her own body felt… heavy, but not bad. Weighted in a way that made her aware of every place Caitlin touched her—and every place she didn’t.

Planet Earth was still playing. Something was swimming upside down. Gabby was narrating it like Attenborough if he got laid at Coachella. McKenna had a tortilla on her face.

And Caitlin—Caitlin was in her lap.

Well, not quite. On her chest. Curled into her like they’d done this a hundred times. Like it meant nothing and everything. Her cheek was pressed above Kate’s heart. She kept whispering tiny things—you’re warm, this is weirdly nice, I love you the most—like every thought was too important not to share.

Kate’s brain moved like syrup, but her heart? Her heart was sprinting.

She wasn’t a talker high. Not like the others. The weed didn’t make her chatty. It made her aware. Of touch. Of silence. Of every single goddamn nerve in her body that came alive when Caitlin burrowed closer.

Her hand stayed on Caitlin’s hip, circling. Again and again. She didn’t know why. Just… needed to.

The room buzzed around them—light, laughter, someone saying “do fish have knees?”—but none of it stuck. Just Caitlin. The weight of her. The smell of her. The warmth.

Kate felt high, yeah. But more than that, she felt here.

Which was rare. Which was everything.

“Hi,” Caitlin murmured into her sweatshirt.

Kate tilted her chin down. “Hi.”

Caitlin exhaled a soft, wobbly breath. “This is… weirdly nice.”

Kate hummed, her fingers tracing circles on Caitlin’s hip. “You mean the part where everyone’s high out of their minds and Sydney just apologized to the blender?”

“No,” Caitlin said, a sleepy smile tugging at her mouth. “The part where I don’t feel like I have to be anything.”

Kate’s grip tightened. “You never do. Not with me.”

Caitlin didn’t answer right away. Her heart fluttered low in her ribs. She felt everything too much���Kate’s voice in her chest, the gentle warmth of her palm, the way her own body relaxed like it had been waiting for this, for the freedom to just exist.

And this time, when she whispered it, it wasn’t from fear. Or ache. Or need.

It was from joy.

“I love you.”

“Oh.” Kate’s hand stilled. Then she laughed too, the sound bubbling up out of her like relief. “Sure you do.”

“I mean it.” Caitlin nuzzled closer. “I love you the most.”

Kate said nothing at first. Just bent down and kissed the top of her head, slow and reverent. Then: “You’re high.”

“You’re warm,” Caitlin countered.

They stayed like that, tucked into each other on the living room floor, while chaos swirled around them and the city pulsed quietly outside. For once, Caitlin didn’t care how she looked. She didn’t care who saw. She just let herself be held.

The edible had softened her edges. Words melted off her tongue easier than usual, and for once, her brain didn’t shout over every moment. Just let it land. Let it be. Caitlin felt her breath match Kate’s—slow, steady, as if the rhythm between them had always existed and she was only just catching up.

AJ stood up to get another brownie and muttered something about how gravity was “suspicious,” which sent Gabby into a fit. McKenna tried to reenact slow motion in real time. It didn’t go well.

Kate didn’t move.

Neither did Caitlin.

At some point, Gabby flicked the lights off. Planet Earth kept glowing on the screen, a deep-sea jellyfish blooming in slow motion, every ripple casting blue shadows across the room. Caitlin tipped her chin up to look at Kate.

Later—maybe minutes, maybe hours—Kate shifted. “Hey.”

Caitlin blinked up at her.

“You wanna go to bed?”

Caitlin shook her head. “Already home.”

Kate smiled, tired and full. “Me too.”

They didn’t move again. Not when the screen dimmed to black. Not when Gabby fell asleep mid-sentence, still halfway through narrating the polar bear mating season. Not even when McKenna started snoring with a tortilla across her face.

The room faded into soft breathing and scattered blankets.

Caitlin stirred, just enough to press her lips to Kate’s forehead. She didn’t say it loudly. Didn’t need to.

In a room full of everyone—and no one really awake—she whispered it like a commandment.

“I love you, Kate.”

#wnba#kate martin#caitlin clark#wnba basketball#f/f fanfic#fluff#wnba players#womens basketball#katelin#kate x caitlin#katelinfanwrites#wlw#fanfic#headcanon#smut#wlw smut#uconn wbb#wbb#iowa wbb#iowa hawkeyes#wnba draft#uconn huskies#uconn women’s basketball#paige bueckers#paige x azzi#azzi fudd#paige buckets#iowa women’s basketball#wlw post#wlw nsft

[rabbit-is-wise]

@ethan-elliott once again im responding in the rbs or else id put an essay in the replies

but yes! many people do genuinely think they’re different. ive talked at length about it in this post as well as touched on it in this one, (and probably others) but i think itd be helpful for anyone who keeps up with these ramblings of mine to properly explain the clancy =/= tyler argument (to my understanding), since my argument is a rebuttal to it.

like i talk about in the first linked post, the two major pieces of evidence are the journal entry written by clancy that describes the jumpsuit video from a third party perspective, and of course scaled and icy meaning “clancy is dead.”

now, im not going to break down those specifially (bc i already did in the first post lmao!), but that’s our starting point. and keep in mind, this is all just what i’ve gathered—other people may not believe the same details, and i generally do not engage with the people who push this theory, since it makes me a bit upset (for reasons i also touch on often), so i’m putting out the disclaimer that i’m not an expert on this side of the argument.

also, a guide for how i’ll be referring to the characters: “clancy” refers to the original clancy, the one who writes the journals, while “tyler” refers to the character who then takes on the name and is seen in the videos, and i will continue referring to him as such post name change to avoid confusion. tyclancy also refers to this same character.

from the jumpsuit journal entry, we then get clancy writing about staying another five days in trench, and then being taken back to dema by keons. it’s some time after this that clancy is killed by the bishops. i can’t offer you anything more on that because it doesnt happen, but see this tweet from the person i usually see pushing this theory (usernames scribbled i dont want to accidentally start anything)

ive heard the handwriting changes at this point—i don’t see it. you’ll just have to decide for yourself on that one i fear. but that’s the main evidence for this event placement.

following this, tyler writes about the events of natn, those videos happen, and then tyler is taken back to dema. while in captivity, he is approached by the bishops to write an album/show, and when they ask him to name it, he chooses to tell the people that clancy is dead. everything there is in his voldsøy letters, minus him saying the name scaled and icy or his intent behind it.

between his captivity and “i am clancy,” tyler chooses to take on the name to carry on the spirit of rebellion. the story then continues as we see it.

asides:

- this person specifically believes clancy gave into vialism, see here:

but i couldnt tell you how far that goes beyond them.

- one of the recent fpe letters mentions what it likely the cave clancy hid in before keons found him and that there are drawings in it because i guess tyler cant have found the cave himself or the fifteen other reasons they would talk about it

there’s probably more, i couldn’t tell you. i scrolled twitter for a while and made myself upset so im not gonna do that anymore.

when i say this next part, i really don’t mean to be rude, i just don’t know how to phrase it gently.

from what i can tell, the appeal of this theory comes from two factors: not remembering the details in journals, and a lack of understanding for how stories work.

i’ve discussed why clancy’s arc is important, because from a writing standpoint, setting this character up and then dropping them for another wouldn’t make sense. a character who haunts the narrative would not be set up like that, especially with zero acknowledgement from tyler. we as the audience would be let in on tyler’s inner thoughts about taking on this name, even if he keeps it from everyone else in-universe. the fact that it hasn’t been revealed in 7 years is reason enough.

we have had many reveals in that time, including an explanation for the jumpsuit video journal entry. but not this? not what would be a pillar of the story? and furthermore, what would this represent within the allegory? what could it represent that the glorious gone do not already embody?

many details that supposedly support this theory are a stretch, or forget the fact that twenty one pilots is still a real band in the real world apart from the story they happen to be telling.

this fandom is a glutton for making things more convoluted than they are. no, the curtains aren’t just blue, but if the setting isn’t trying to tell you about the character’s sadness, maybe the blue means something else. you have to understand the story before you analyze it. there is no subtext without the original text.

your interpretation of “clancy is dead” is exactly how i see it. some people just ignore what’s in front of them. and dont let your newer status discredit you, in 2019 i was also a clancy =/= tyler truther, because we hadn’t had all the reveals yet. i think some people just won’t budge on their beliefs.

the story supports what it supports. i highly doubt we’ll ever get more information on this, since “i am clancy” was meant to get everyone on the same page, so this debate will never end. it probably wouldn’t even if we did get further confirmation, since people just straight up think he was lying in that video. it’s just one of those things.

the new tb letter is a brutal reminder that i am the only person on all of twitter who thinks tyler and clancy have always been the same person i literally feel like this

[puppppppppy]

learning abt friendship decay and "not reaching out to your friends for months at a time unprompted is not neurotypical behaviour" has me feeling a certain way

[kaidanalenkosprmanager]

Sophie Oliveira-Shepard Alenko-Oliveira and Kaidan Alenko-Oliveira - ME3 (2/?) "I want to be your strength. Your soft place to land." Mass Effect 3: Legendary Edition (2021) + Bonus

[florida3exclamationpoints]

@secretcrazy

Ok the parent one: he was going on a rant about how college should literally be the most important thing in all of our lives. Live breathe eat sleep college nothing else matters. But then ig he caught himself and he was like "well if you have kids then your kids come first. I can't even imagineeeee omg bc college is like basically just as important as your kids and probably actually more important 🧐 good luck lollll I mean I have so much admiration for parents in school 🙏 probably . or something. Anyway if you don't prioritize my cooking classes above everything else in your life (*except children ig) then I will kill you personally" skdhskdnsk

Im gonna try to be as word for word accurate as possible for this one: "I love that all the students in this class are women. The culinary industry is a very male dominated field but we're seeing more and more women coming in and i love that. And I just want to help all my female students. Bc you know... [this is where I'm fuzzy on specifics but it had just been in the news that a famous chef Mario Batali was really creepy and abusive to his female employees and also stole his waiters' tips i think? I didn't read about it much but he had been on food network and then it came out that he was super gross and awful. So he said like all that stuff about Mario Batali just came out....] and I want to teach my female students not to take crap like that. To be strong enough to stand up to jerks like that." ...... 👍😀👍

The one about the industry being abusive and it is what it is was mostly all that was really said on his side if not in so many words. But the thing that really got me about it was another chef had just told us like. Days before. That the culinary industry is abusive. And he's seen it and it sucks. And he doesn't want to send us into that environment. And we are the next generation of chefs and it is up to us to break the cycle and be better managers and it was really important to him to teach us to be better. Instead of just going along with it bc that's how it is. And then Head Chef Man was like. Working in kitchens SUCKS and you will be MISERABLE and I NEVER SLEEP and people will YELL AT YOU and THROW STUFF AROUND THE KITCHEN and its NOT FOR THE WEAK because it's TERRIBLE but I LOVE SCREAMING AT PEOPLE so i think it's kinda cool actually!! GET USED TO IT NOW!!! I WILL MAKE YOU GET USED TO IT NOW!!! IF YOUR MENTOR CALLS YOU A DUMBASS YOU'LL NEVER EXPECT YOUR EMPLOYER TO BE NICE AND YOU SHOULDN'T BECAUSE CHEFS ARE MEAN!!!!!!!! To be so for real that other chef should have been the program head. He had more experience and had worked in the industry more recently and was a Better Person. And he told us that he was more qualified and he would run the program very differently. I really wish he did.

(The Gordon Ramsey and Bobby Flay one is so funny to me bc like lol of course. I'm sure this man thinks its so funny to watch Gordon Ramsey cursing people out over potatoes. The thing is tho that Gordon Ramsey isn't actually Like That. It's a character. But it's not a funny character because behavior like that shouldn't be normalized. And Bobby Flay ISNT EVEN THAT TALENTED PLEASE. If you watch Beat Bobby Flay it's just him stroking his ego by having his friends compliment him and GOD FORBID someone actually Beats Bobby Flay 😭 the only thing he does is make things SPICY . That's not talent. That's not even a flavor. I think he thinks he's a special white man who knows what spice is.)

And the docking points ones go together. So we had to taste everything. And if we didn't then it docks points. Which i understand to a degree bc yes you have to taste your food and you have to be familiar with flavors and people could be like "oh I don't like tomatoes :/" and would miss a lot if they just didn't eat whatever wasn't particularly appealing to them. Fine. You could get around this if you were allergic to something AND had a doctor's note. Well. Again I get it to a point like if someone is vegetarian just because they want to be then they made that choice to not eat something and I can understand docking points for that. But religious beliefs???? I questioned that when I saw it in the rules but I don't have any religious food restrictions so I didn't think about it that much but then I was in class with someone who was Muslim. And he said he wouldn't eat pork one day. And this man was like "ok. Well you know you'll lose points for that. Are you sure you want to lose points for that? Fine. But don't be surprised when you lose points for that." And he kept going on about it in front of the whole class like dude !!! He was trying to break him down!!! And I'm so glad it didn't work and he stood up to him but I can't believe it cost him lab points oh my god (also this kid was 16!!! I was 17 and I wasn't the youngest!!!). But the cheese one actually happened to me. So I knew you're supposed to have a doctor's note for allergies but I didn't think I had any food allergies so I didn't bother. Well we're going around tasting a bunch of different cheeses. And we get to the blue cheese. And he says the Blue part is penicillin. Bruh i am allergic to penicillin. I knew it was mold but I didn't know it was penicillin. So when it got to me I was like uhh did you say penicillin? And he said yes. And I said I'm allergic to penicillin. And he said ok do you have a doctor's note? And I said no. And he said well you know all allergies have to have a doctor's note. And I said yeah but I didn't know it was a food allergy. I thought it was just a medicine allergy. Oh my god when I said that. The way he looked at me. Like I was the dumbest person alive. Like he couldn't comprehend that level of stupidity. And then he said ok well you can eat it or you can lose points. (Mind you. At this time I had already gotten low lab grades from him bc he didn't like how quiet i was. So i wasn't trying to lower my grade even more. He also didn't say how many points it would cost so I didn't know what I was wagering here.) A very nice person next to me said her husband was also allergic to penicillin and didn't know that blue cheese was the same and he was always fine eating it. So I got the tiniest amount imaginable and avoided any Blue part of the Blue Cheese. Bc i was scared. And it immediately felt all tingly on my tongue . like pins and needles from that tiny amount. So I wonder how much blue cheese it would take to send me into anaphylactic shock!! That would've been funny SKDHSKDHSK

*paraphrasing bc character limit but I am not exaggerating the gist. You can ask for the full story if you want 😭😭

[angelsdean]

don't know how people multi-fandom. dipped my toe into another one and immediately backed out bc everyone there was insufferable.

[iryonin]

sometimes i think about the fact that kishimoto genuinely had no idea what to do w sakura in the beginning/that he accidentally gave her a bunch of kickass affinities he just never expanded upon bcs he randomly 1 day decided she was gonna be a mednin in the end (after tsunades intro)

[lanternlightss]

thinking vlvlv polycule thoughts again. nameless bard getting used to being gently picked up a lot because both his partners are rather strong

[indigodawns]

hello <3 does anyone have any last-minute tips for idk . enjoying a (taemin!!!!!!!) concert when you have autism + adhd? HSJSJSJS

[darabeatha]

MY KING

(source)

[danothan]

tough pill i have to swallow is realizing that “getting better” doesn’t mean “getting to do more things,” getting better for me means taking better initiative in protecting myself. and THAT means making sure i do LESS things

[king-lena]

ew i hate looking back on any social media and seeing my old cringe posts (especially on tiktok) like help!!!! that isn’t me anymore don’t look please!!!! 😅 i can barely handle my current cringe posts don’t make me revisit the past please!!!! i am working so hard to constantly keep growing and learning and changing my mindset and becoming a better me every day and i am no longer that version of myself and i do not know her like that anymore. but dang like her reminants are still out there lingering and i do not like it one bit… 😔