Clea can keep pretending not to give a fuck about the Canvas but I’m gonna be honest I don’t think anyone cares about it more then her
She painted half this world with Verso. She painted the strongest turtle ever, gave him overpowered abilities and made him her best friend. They sang and they danced and ever since she left Francois was never the same.
She helped paint the landscape, together they made the endless tower. He was scared of the dark so she painted her Lampmaster to fuck with him. She fought with Verso, Monoco, Noco and all the Gestrals and traded words with the Grandis, helped Esquie find his rocks.
After the Fracture she could’ve made her Nevrons anything, an army without soul to end her families madness. She doesn’t. She adds stalacts in the cold, she adds over a dozen mimes, she adds her Nevrons that do not attack they simply eat the mountains their on. She adds her dancers, her sky and sea serpent. She adds things that belong in this world, creatures who match their position in the Painting.
She paints over Painted Clea. She was content to let Aline stew in her grief, but she draws a line at this false representation of her. She has Simon kill her Axon. She is already in this painting. She is the Fading Woman and the Lady of Sap. This whole world is her work, all of it her representation.
Her family is fighting over Verso’s memory like dogs with a bone and they have destroyed her world. She painted half of this Canvas, a Canvas wrecked during the Fracture. His Gestrals and Grandis were misplaced, the land split.
Clea does not want to destroy this Canvas. The last piece of their brothers soul. But her brother is dead now, and her sister has been maimed and her mother is running from it and her father is too content to run right after her. The people who did this still breathe, something Verso can’t do and Alicia can only do with pain.
War is on their doorstep, and she can’t protect Alicia and her parents are too busy to be useful, her mother lost her spot as head of the painters council. Destroying the Canvas is the only way to get that semblance of her family back because Aline will never stop and Renoir will never stop chasing her.
They all tackle their grief differently, and Clea’s method is revenge. I imagine it’s no help that the only way she’ll have support in this war she singlehandedly wages is if she destroys the world she built with her deceased brother.
One day Clea woke up and not another person in her house made a sound. Because Verso was in the ground, Alicia was robbed of her voice and her parents have lost their minds.
made a tiny esquie because i'm obsessed with expedition 33 & wanted a quick, fun project. i didn't go for game accuracy here, just picked some materials that had good vibes & ended up with this somewhat-chibified version of the Large Friend.
Kel: ...and I've been getting expensive presents from this mysterious benefactor ever since my first year as a page. 🫤 It's baffling, I mean, who could it possibly be? 🤷🏼
Raoul: Right, absolutely baffling. Excuse me for a sec
*sounds of running feet and a door slamming open*
Raoul: ALANNA WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME I WOULD HAVE HELPED 😭
today I used the phrase "breasting boobily" in casual real life conversation and everyone was shocked asking how I came up with that and I had to explain it. ive been at the devil's sacrament so long that I forgot he wasn't god
“Nobody’s going to want to sit on high-speed rail for fifteen hours to get from New York City to LA.”
Me. I will sit on high-speed rail for fifteen hours. I’ll sit on it for days. I’ll write and read and nap and eat and then do it all over again. I’ll stare out the windows and see America from ground level and not have to drive. I’ll see the Rockies and the deserts and cornfields and the Mississippi River and your house and yours and yours too. I’ll make up stories in my head about the small towns I see as we go along. I’ll see the states I’ve yet to see because driving or flying there is a fucking slog and expensive to boot. I’ll enjoy the ride as much as the destination. And then I’ll do it all over again to come the fuck home.
Bro I did the driving for 4 days running to get across the country. (And it sucked every mile of the way!) You think I wouldn't pay money to sit back in the lap of not-having-to-do-the-driving luxury and get all the way there in a quarter of the time it took me to do it (miserably) myself? That's vacation time babeyy! You can't read, sleep, or do your small lap-crafts when you're the one driving. Let the landspeed torpedo do the driving and the world is my dang relaxation oyster. And you mean I get to look out the window and actually see stuff while I'm at it? As a bonus? And I get to stay on the ground? You'll never catch me flying or driving again.
Pairing: Clark Kent x reader! 18+
Tags/warnings: nsfw!!!, grinding, finishing in pants, fluffy smut if that can be a thing, misunderstanding, use of y/n, not proofread :(
Clark Kent felt like a pervert.
He didn't mean to, and he knew his ma would chastise him, but he couldn't stop. If he knew that this is what he would be reduced to, he wouldn't have become your roommate.
Your disgusting, perverted roommate who can't stop listening to you masturbate.
The first time wasn't intentional, he blames his supersonic hearing. He tried to tune you out, but your whines and muffled whimpers found home in his mind, replaying over and over. It felt like an intrusion of privacy to overhear, especially because you were trying to mask it with your hand clamped over your mouth.
And yet here he was, hand wrapped around himself as he listened to you writhe in bed. Clark kept the pace slow, not wanting to rush into it. You set the pace, always, and he made sure you finished first.
But then he heard you moan his name, and suddenly he was cumming.
Instinctively his head fell back as a guttural, low groan started in the back of his throat. Finishing all over his stomach, the feeling curling his toes and clenching his stomach. When he came too he was out of breath and slightly dizzy. While you were still masturbating, blissfully unaware of what you've just done to your roommate, Clark was trying to wrap his head around what happened. A part of him felt embarrassed that he came just from that when he wasn't even close. His chest filled with want and need as he continued to listen, half hard even after the orgasm. Your gasps of pleasure that used to sound so sweet now sounded like torture to him.
He can't just go into your room, right? He tried rationalizing with himself, how could he justify telling you that he heard you? And on top of that he would be bursting into an intimate moment, it was unthinkable.
So Clark just laid there, listening to you get closer and closer to your peak. Maybe he will gather the courage to try to talk to you tomorrow and ask you out.
---
Your feet hit softly on the floor of your apartment as you headed to the bathroom. As you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, you felt slight embarrassment over last night. That was the first time you had moaned your roommates name out loud, and a deep embarrassment sat in your chest. Of course you had thought of your handsome roommate before, but to actually moan his name out loud? At the thought of it, you felt your face get red.
You know you were quiet, but you worried you may have been too loud with the way Clark was avoiding you. When he saw you he turned on his heel, murmuring about something he left in his room, or scurrying out the door for work or an “appointment”. It wasn't until a few days later that you confronted him.
3 short raps at his bedroom door shocked Clark out of his thoughts. When he opened the door, you stood there sweetly with a tub of ice cream and two spoons.
“Do you want to continue watching Love House with me?”
He wanted to say no. He wanted to tell you that it's hard to be around you without getting a hard on or hearing your moans in his mind. How much his body longed to pull you into his and satisfy you in ways you couldn't.
“Um…I don't…I think I have too…” he trailed off.
“Is something wrong?” You asked Clark, trying to meet his eyes.
“What? No! N-nothing, just super busy.” he let out a weak laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Have I done something wrong, Clark?” Your hands dropped as your shoulders slump. “It seems like I have, you've been ignoring me lately.”
“No! God's no, that’s not-” “It’s okay,” you interrupted, “we don’t have to hangout any more, I didn’t mean to push it.” You backed away from his door as you spoke, prompting him to open the door a little wider.
“No, y/n you haven’t done anything! I just, I just wanted some alone time.” He didn’t meet your eyes, the floor suddenly looking much more interesting.
Your mind raced to a million different places, too many that you couldn’t sort through them to find why he might be avoiding you. You thought out loud to try to organize your thoughts and get a reaction.
“Is it work? Maybe you have a big assignment coming up. Or maybe your parents, are they doing okay? Is it your health, or are you going through a big life change? Do you have a girlfriend-”
At this Clark’s head snapped up to meet yours, and your stomach dropped.
“O-oh! Of course, of course.” You let out a pathetic laugh as you backed down the hallway “right, of course I knew that one day you would. I’m so-” the spoons you were holding clattered to the ground “oh geez, um. I’m happy for you, you deserve someone in your life.”
“Y/n” Clark said your name like it pained him as he went towards you.
“Just make sure to let me know when you want the apartment to yourself and I’ll stay somewhere else for the night.” You said with a fake smile, even though you know you would have nowhere else to go. Clark knew that too.
“Y/n, just stop for just a second!” Clark quickly covered the ground between you two and grabbed your arms, forcing you to turn your body to his. “I don’t have a girlfriend!”
“It’s okay if you do, really I don’t ca-”
Your protest died in your throat as Clark kissed you, pressing his lips to yours to silence you. Your eyes stared at his closed ones, still in shock. Clark Kent was kissing you. Your roommate. Your handsome, talented, clumsy roommate who you have a massive crush on.
He pulled away but remained close to your face, eyes fluttering open to look into your shocked ones.
“How could I ever leave you?” He said with such sincerity it made your heart heart.
“What?” You whispered, unsure this is real life. You wish he would let go of your arms so you could pinch yourself.
“All I’ve wanted is you. Since I practically moved in. Maybe all I’ve ever wanted has always been you, even before I knew you. I must have been made for you.” Clark whispers. “I wish I could think of something more romantic to say” he smiles.
“You like me?” You whisper back, still in disbelief.
“So much so that I think I’m going crazy.” His eyes glance at your lips before meeting your eyes again. It washes over you in a second: lust, want, need, and love. You close the gap between the two of you, dropping the long forgotten ice cream. They hit the floor as your arms wrap around his neck, standing on your toes. His arms wrap around your waist and pull you up slightly, a groan escaping his throat.
Clark walks backwards, never disconnecting from you, and leads you back into his room. You let him lead you, trusting him and becoming totally engrossed in the moment. One hand wanders to his hair, feeling the curls weave their way through your fingertips. A desperate moan leaves his mouth at your motion, you feel heat in your stomach at the sound. Your other hand trails down his neck to his chest, feeling the hardness there before going to his shoulder and down his arm. You loved his arms, how they were strong but not overly muscular. They still looked warm and inviting, and on the many few times you accidentally slept on them, very comfortable.
Once inside the bedroom and near the bed, Clark spun you around and laid you on the bed. He stood between your open legs, looking down at you. He admired your red, swollen lips and your glossy eyes.
“You said I drive you crazy?” You teased, sitting up. Your hand reached up to his stomach where you felt him clench at your touch. He moaned as he watched you drag your hand up his body, as if you were staking your claim, touching all that is yours. And it is yours, he would tell you, it always has been. You grip the collar of his shirt and tug him down so he is laying on top of you. The motion causes him to press against your center, causing the both of you to moan at the contact.
“Yes, fuck, you drive me crazy.” He kissed your jaw gently, trailing kisses down your neck. “The way you laugh at my stupid jokes, the way you tease me for not buttoning my shirt correctly. How you never let me have the final say, how you walk around in those skimpy shorts.” Clark moans the last sentence, his hand finding its way to the hem of your shirt. He tugs on it, as if asking for permission, and you moan, lifting your torso up as you silently ask for more.
Clark’s large hand feels warm against your stomach. It moves slowly, reverently, as if he is afraid that sudden movement will cause you to spook. When he finally makes his way towards your bare chest he groans at the contact, grabbing a handful of your breast.
“You always walk around with no bra on, tempting me.” His voice rough “I always try to make you cold so I can see your perky nipples”
You whimper at his admission, heat pooling in your stomach. It felt like too much and still not enough as you tried to get closer to him. He pressed himself into you and grinded. He felt like a horny teenager, and yet he couldn’t pull away. He needed this friction, his cock straining to nestle between your legs.
“These walls are not thick enough for me to get away from you.” He pulled his head back to look at you, watch your face contort in pleasure. “I can hear it when you touch yourself, and - fuck” his hips stuttered against yours as he shivered. “I could hear when you moaned my name. Had me cumming in my hand.”
“Clark” you whine, grabbing his broad shoulders as his hips pick up the pace.
“D-don’t do that, you’ll make me…” His movements speed up, chasing more and more pleasure.
“Clark, don’t stop. Please Clark, I’m so close.” The idea of him listening in to you, of touching himself just to your noises has your toes curling as you think of the effect you have on your tall handsome roommate.
“Oh gosh, don’t - fuck, one more time sunshine, come on let go” his hands desperately grab at your hip, holding you into the bed as he continues to grind against you. The pressure of his covered cock against your thin sleep shorts has you dizzy as you can feel the size of him, the idea of taking all of that has you tipping over the edge.
“Clark!” You moan as your orgasm hits, chanting his name like a prayer. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you can feel him shake above you.
“Yes yes, fuck y/n, just like that.” You can feel his orgasm hit him by the warmth that blossoms between your legs. The more he rides out the orgasm, the more you can feel the wetness. You look down and almost moan at the sight. You, his roommate, just made him cum in his pants, and goddam is it a lot. You look up at him with a lopsided smile, energy exhausted.
“You really like me moaning your name?” You tease “Clark?” An almost painful sound comes from his throat as he stands back up, looking down at the both of you.
“Don’t think we are finished here sunshine. I want the whole apartment building to know my name.”
You know something? Maybe once a week, I wake up paralyzed, reliving that night. But before the sun went down, I think that was the best day of my life. Was it like that for you?
