#even if it is a shit draft its A DRAFT THAT I CAN WORK WITH

[cixteenyne]

‘Party at my grandmas, fuckers!’

Ch.1 (probably wont continue this fawwwk)

Content warning: Drug usage, Drug addiction, Overdose, Self destructive behaviors, Gojo is a dick head, NSFW elements (not between gojo and reader), Fratboy!Gojo, college AU, honestly everybody is a pos, Slowburn but not bc you hate this mf and he dont fw you. Not betaread, this is a draft sooo….✌️

There will always be someone who needs you, yet simultaneously gives not a single shit about you. Get what they need out of the box ‘n through the packaging away. Dust their hands off and go about their day.

It’s simple, it’s easy, it’s free, to fuck someone over- its free. The price of time management, planning and lies, all free.

This must be why it’s so common?

College isnt.. easy. Nobody claims it to be— whoever has in the past regrets such idiocy, and whoever preaches it now is begging for west to become south. And fast.

College is work and work isnt easy, simple shit.

Work isn’t easy, but neither are people. Infact- they’re the most complicated of all, and it’s unfortunate, really. Things arent complicated or difficult because they have to be, it’s just how things are, how can it be remedied? Fuck if anybody knows because we’ve exhausted the options of ‘patience, love and support’ like it’s a non renewable resource.

Halls were never easy to walk through. A semi closed space that gave the illusion of open access, a long.. streching.. seemlingy endless illusion.

You wouldn’t say you were claustrophobic, but you didn’t exactly enjoy knowing you’d brush up against at least 30-45 different people and objects in a limited space. It’s stressful for anyone to think about— but you manage, you always have and you will continue to, you have no choice.

You were not a shy person, but you did not go out of your way to make yourself known. You said what you needed to and mostly what you wanted to. As long as it wouldn’t lead to unnecessary problems, just more bullshit to deal with on top of tanking grades, so you kept slick comments to yourself. Mostly.

Satoru. He’s a man nobody besides his sleezy best friend could figure out. Popular guy, can’t blame anyone— charismatic, charming, winner smile, sexy—fuckers got it down pact.

You didn’t know a thing about the guy besides the basics. Party nut. Fraternity dude. Throwing a rager every other night for some damn reason, (does he ever rest?)

He’s basic in the way you find most men are.. he’s handsome- sure, startlingly so, but something’s wrong. All men, at least the ones you’ve been around— have that startling factor to them—that.. offputting factor.

It’s also in his eyes, Just looking in them hurts.

-1

Youve been partners with Satoru on this project for a couple days now and, well.. he’s not dumb as bricks, that’s for sure— but he also refuses to offer much. Shocker.

He usually shows up for the merit, scrolls, then dips like hes got places to be, and to his credit, maybe he does, a rager to plan, maybe attend? Chick to bang, a four loko to shotgun—for fucks-

“—sake, satoru, ‘the hell are you going now? We’re not even 10 minutes in.”

You couldn’t keep the exasperated tone out of your voice, ‘fed up’ is a feeling you’re well aquatinted with.

The clock on the wall, however useless it was- ticked on as he stared at her like she’d gone special in the head. “What, i dont have free will anymore? Lighten up, will you?” He laughed that type of laugh that only a 21 year old man who didn’t know how to talk to a woman beyond ‘through it’, could laugh.

Beyond frustrating.

Only he would say some dumb shit like that- ‘lighten up, will-‘ shut the fuck up.

“I’ve let you have free will this whole week and now we have tomorrow’s deadline to finish this.”

His lips moved into that smile that kept him popular. At the top. “People have lives, let me live mine?” A shrug that made it seem like nothing was wrong, even when the room was on fire. Fuck him.

You were not about to argure with this man. No man for that matter, grades be damned.

“Yeah- it’s whatever Satoru, live your life, bye.” A dismissive wave as you got your laptop and simply left.

Satoru stood at the exit you’d gone opposite of, just shaking his head with a laugh that would have only pissed you off more if youd stayed to hear it.

He had no problem with you, but he didn’t particularly like or care about you beyond.. well— nothing, he had no intention of doing this project, no need. He only needed to do enough to keep up appearances and then he’s out.

Yes. He’s an asshole through and through, but nobody needs to know that but him and his other asshole friends.

He saw you around, minding your business, no doubt you saw him too. Smug grin and all— just waiting for the right moment to get at you, in you, and leave. Like hell you’re gonna let him.

The moment you’d gotten partnered up with him, you knew an F was coming unless you planned to drop everything and fuck him, and you made peace with that. He wasn’t getting a damn thing.

It didn’t make it any easier to sit across from him and watch a grade get thrown in your face, though.

-2

You got an F.

But what confused you that day was that Satoru didn’t. Rich boy didn’t get an F, but you did— on the project you both did not do.

It made the wound of him sitting there, manspread in the library and refusing to respond to you burn hotter, like molten steel solidifying into your pores, and you trying to peel and pick it out, but every time you think you’ve got a good piece, it breaks off halfway- never to be reached again.

It never made sense to you, what was the point of fucking you over like that— it wasn’t free, he obviously paid off the teacher, had to have been hundreds of dollars— thousand, even.

The price of fucking you over wasn’t even free.

Every time you saw him after that? A refusal to acknowledge him. Not even a glance— ok, a couple glances, but only when he looked back did you walk away. Not that he even gave a fuck.

He seriously paid to win. In a fucking College.

A man like that didn’t deserve your emotions or time, no matter what. But—fuck, he got them anyway. You had nothing positive to associate with him. He got your petty glances, the rolled eyes, the mean mugs, all of it.

It pissed you off.

You had to take a walk around campus to blow off some steam, step by step, your anger rolled off of you in waves that felt like a Gua Sha massage, not exactly comforting, but necessary. Sort of.

You walked along empty classrooms, door by door.

You didn’t have a 1PM class, so this was your only time to roam.

The only opportunity to be relived of the on… and on… and on… of the professional that was paid to be there, sure- but didn’t make it any less boring.

Each step just as aimless as the next, a little leaf crunch every now and then to spice it up.

Fuck this wasn’t helping.

As you walked you could only try slow your beating heart— trying to break out of your chest, the anger, the shock, the disbelief— it grew out of you like invasive mushrooms all over the place, under your fingernails, out of your eyes, your skin.

The kind that if you picked one off, the roots would slowly drag out of your skin, making you realize it would have been better if you just left it alone.

It only grew once you made it out of the other end of the class hallway.

Son of a bitch, why hadn’t you just stayed at your dorms.

Satoru was fucking the teacher for brownie points.

-3

The next time you see him you’re like a dog who found a bone. Or an unsuspecting toddler.

He’s at the round table with his asshole friends, and their asshole sports talk, just talking like he’s not the worst person ever— they’re probably worse.

You come up behind him, a light slap on the shoulder. “Come here. Out back?”

He only turns back to look at you, his friends do too. silent. amused.

Satoru only looks back and smiles that smug smile, his head on his hand, he looks back at his friends and his smile only gets wider. As do theirs.

Like sharks in a damn pool.

“Here’s fine, yeah?”

“It’s really not.” You didn’t have the patience, never did.

He points to the enclosed study room across the library, soundproof. His idiot pink haired friend whistles. “This early, Satoru? New record.” Stupid chuckles makes its round as they all seem to find humor in that.

“Never too early for a little fun, c’mon guys.” He gets up with a huff and makes his way towards the door, you follow while burning holes into his back.

You don’t snap back into reality until the whooping, whistling and hollering stops when the door clicks closed.

Satoru turns around and leans his hips on the desk behind him as he shrugs towards you.

“Well?”

You dont speak for a while, it feels like millennium until you get that ocean of saliva down your throat and simmer the molten lava out of your brain.

“I got an F.”

“Shocker.”

Professional smartass over here. everything about him just made you want to pounce and stomp him out. He could probably see as much.

“You were fucking Mrs. Arlen.”

You see him about to speak before you decide you don’t want him to talk anymore. “You screwed me over on a project just to make up the assignment with a dick appointment? Really?”

You could see the gears turning in his head — ‘wreeeek, uuuuurk’ — as each cog wheel moved.

You could also see that stupid smirk, like he’s holding back a little laugh

“You’re acting like i owe you a good grade— what, wanna fuck one out of me? Use the ‘Satoru method’?”

What the fuck was wrong with him? Just looking at him hurts, it hurts your brain and your ability to comprehend.

“What the hell is your problem?”

He didn’t even grace you with a response this time, just a shrug and a shake of his head, dismissing you with a little smile. The fucker was evil without reason.

You took a moment to really look him in the eyes for a good 20 seconds— that’s a long time, yes, but that’s really what it took for you to finally get it. It’s in his eyes, what’s so off-putting about him.

He’s always slightly out of it, never too concerned about anything.

Too laid back to be genuine, yet a little too tense to be faked.

All that wrapped into a frat boy bow, and you have Satoru. Somehow.

Ah, you get it- He’s constantly on drugs.

The dialted pupils, the stare with lead injected into it when you looked for too long, all of it was in the eyes and it finally made sense.

He just tilted his head at you and nodded his head, that smug smile had never left his face.

“Been looking at me mighty long, you change your mind?”

That’s what was wrong with him.

“Do you just… do drugs and decide nothing else matters, fuck me over while off a damn pill?”

He didn’t respond for a while and just looked at you. Really looked at you. You doubt anything penetrated that drugged out mind— why didn’t you pick up on it before?

“You make it sound like that’s a bad thing.”

What a Satoru response, only he could say that and genuinely mean it.

“Just high on life, hm?”

And you just happened to be in the way of that, how- you didn’t know. Whatever episode he was having, you got caught up in.

“Something like that.”

-4

Looking at him felt different after that exchange— it’s been days since you last even spoke to him, knowing the worst person you know is probably coked out of his mind is a.. strange feeling.

He definitely looks at you differently now.

He seemed to pop up wherever you were, always there, always watching.

And whenever he was there, there was always a problem, him doing something just to piss you off.

Since you found out, he’s been going to extra mile to be petty.

You knew something deep about him, and he was taking out how uncomfortable he was with it on you, his constipated outlook on emotions was already fucked enough to turn to drugs, how could you expect him to deal with vulnerability?

Days and days pass as he torments you in little way only you could notice, the kind where if you tell anyone else they’d think you’re obsessed and reading into it. And he knew that, relied on that reasoning entirely.

It only made your dislike of him even more palpable.

Everytime you saw him, he was chipper in how he bothered you, way too happy to be putting somebody else down with no repercussions.

that’s just like him.

Maybe that’s why it was so shocking to see him in a state of unconsciousness in an empty classroom while you were just trying to print an essay.

Work of @cixteenyne

[itsybitsybatsyspider]

AAAHHHHHH IM WRITING

LETS FUCKING GO IT'S BEEN FOREVER YALL IM SO EXCITED ABOUT THIS

[ganondoodle]

I fully understand the pain you feel with TLOZ now. I mean, I understood it before, but after Arcane becoming League's canon, after watching the second season, I feel so broken and conflicted and like I spent time loving something just for it to amount to nothing.

reliving my totk nightmares just a few months after finally being able to cope with that

[shippingmyworld]

My brother's advice any time I vent to him about my job: "Become a streamer."

[greyedian]

oh my god I was thinking about a jayvik fallout new vegas AU and was like "hm maybe Viktor uploads himself into one of those robots until he can get a different body by like repurposing power armor or something idk" and then I remembered that this guy's name actually is Victor

[kohakhearts]

ive been fleshing out my timeskip thoughts. this is all ive got. think recent college graduate and his fucked up little cat (who. goes to work with him)

bonus source of hehe ditto:

get it. like. tamago. time-ago. yeah. ok i’ll see myself out

[diah-the-demon]

You ever just get one of those late night moments where you are having a panic attack cause you are so overwhelmed with all the work you need to get done

[nexus-nebulae]

wough. fastedt er visit ever i think?

[artisimpossible]

Saw a fun little conversation on Threads but I don't have a Threads account, so I couldn't reply directly, but I sure can talk about it here!

I've been wanting to get into this for awhile, so here we go! First and foremost, I wanna say that "Emmaskies" here is really hitting the nail on the head despite having "no insider info". I don't want this post to be read as me shitting on trad pub editors or authors because that is fundamentally not what's happening.

Second, I want to say that this reply from Aaron Aceves is also spot on:

There are a lot of reviewers who think "I didn't enjoy this" means "no one edited this because if someone edited it, they would have made it something I like". As I talk about nonstop on this account, that is not a legitimate critique. However, as Aaron also mentions, rushed books are a thing that also happens.

As an author with 2 trad pub novels and 2 trad pub anthologies (all with HarperCollins, the 2nd largest trad publisher in the country), let me tell you that if you think books seem less edited lately, you are not making that up! It's true! Obviously, there are still a sizeable number of books that are being edited well, but something I was talking about before is that you can't really know that from picking it up. Unlike where you can generally tell an indie book will be poorly edited if the cover art is unprofessional or there are typoes all over the cover copy, trad is broken up into different departments, so even if editorial was too overworked to get a decent edit letter churned out, that doesn't mean marketing will be weak.

One person said that some publishers put more money into marketing than editorial and that's why this is happening, but I fundamentally disagree because many of these books that are getting rushed out are not getting a whole lot by way of marketing either! And I will say that I think most authors are afraid to admit if their book was rushed out or poorly edited because they don't want to sabotage their books, but guess what? I'm fucking shameless. Café Con Lychee was a rush job! That book was poorly edited! And it shows! Where Meet Cute Diary got 3 drafts from me and my beta readers, another 2 drafts with me and my agent, and then another 2 drafts with me and my editor, Café Con Lychee got a *single* concrete edit round with my editor after I turned in what was essentially a first draft. I had *three weeks* to rewrite the book before we went to copy edits. And the thing is, this wasn't my fault. I knew the book needed more work, but I wasn't allowed more time with it. My editor was so overworked, she was emailing me my edit letter at 1am. The publisher didn't care if the book was good, and then they were upset that its sales weren't as high at MCD's, but bffr. A book that doesn't live up to its potential is not going to sell at the same rate as one that does!

And this may sound like a fluke, but it's not. I'm not naming names because this is a deeply personal thing to share, but I have heard from *many* authors who were not happy with their second books. Not because they didn't love the story but because they felt so rushed either with their initial drafts or their edits that they didn't feel like it lived up to their potential. I also know of authors who demanded extra time because they knew their books weren't there yet only to face big backlash from their publisher or agent.

I literally cannot stress to you enough that publisher's *do not give a fuck* about how good their products are. If they can trick you into buying a poorly edited book with an AI cover that they undercut the author for, that is *better* than wasting time and money paying authors and editors to put together a quality product. And that's before we get into the blatant abuse that happens at these publishers and why there have been mass exoduses from Big 5 publishers lately.

There's also a problem where publishers do not value their experienced staff. They're laying off so many skilled, dedicated, long-term committed editors like their work never meant anything. And as someone who did freelance sensitivity reading for the Big 5, I can tell you that the way they treat freelancers is *also* abysmal. I was almost always given half the time I asked for and paid at less than *half* of my general going rate. Authors publishing out of their own pockets could afford my rate, but apparently multi-billion dollar corporations couldn't. Copy edits and proofreads are often handled by freelancers, meaning these are people who aren't familiar with the author's voice and often give feedback that doesn't account for that, plus they're not people who are gonna be as invested in the book, even before the bad payment and ridiculous timelines.

So, anyway, 1. go easy on authors and editors when you can. Most of us have 0 say in being in this position and authors who are in breech of their contract by refusing to turn in a book on time can face major legal and financial ramifications. 2. Know that this isn't in your head. If you disagree with the choices a book makes, that's probably just a disagreement, but if you feel like it had so much potential but just *didn't reach it*, that's likely because the author didn't have time to revise it or the editor didn't have time to give the sort of thorough edits it needed. 3. READ INDIE!!! Find the indie authors putting in the work the Big 5's won't do and support them! Stop counting on exploitative mega-corporations to do work they have no intention of doing.

Finally, to all my readers who read Café Con Lychee and loved it, thank you. I love y'all, and I appreciate y'all, and I really wish I'd been given the chance to give y'all the book you deserved. I hope I can make it up to you in 2025.

[nereidprinc3ss]

pillow talk

in which spencer reid chooses a very odd time to reveal an anecdote from his past to fem!reader

18+ (fluff, extremely suggestive) warnings/tags: fingering but nothing graphic whatsoever, it's basically fade to black sex, discussions of spencer's gsw from season 5, medical talk (and inaccuracies), spencer is a sarcastic little shit a/n: found this super random little thing in my drafts and it was done and i think it's silly and cute so i'm posting it! 600 words, short n sweet!

“You got shot in the knee?”

It’s perhaps said too loudly for the setting—tucked into Spencer’s bed in the late hours of the night when up until this point the conversation had been nothing but murmured stories and quiet giggles. And before that, well—before that there hadn’t been much conversation at all. 

Still you can’t find it within yourself to apologize as you sit up, holding the top sheet to your chest and looking down at Spencer incredulously. His eyebrows raise like he’s surprised by your reaction. 

“Thigh, technically. And it was years ago. Come back.”

You huff but allow yourself to be pulled back down, head on his shoulder as his hand finds its place stroking your hip once more. 

“How have you never told me that?”

“You never noticed the multiple incision scars on my leg?”

“What? No! Can I look now?”

“You won’t be able to see them. It’s too dark.”

You angle your head toward him, and he does the same, tilting his down until your noses almost brush. 

“So turn the light on.”

“If I turn the light on I’ll get distracted.”

“Distracted by what?” You ask, realizing what he means and voice quickly fading even as you finish the sentence. He chuckles and kisses your head. 

“I’ll show it to you in the morning. Come here.”

“I am here,” you grumble. He hums, leaning down further to try and kiss you. 

“Closer.”

So you scoot up the mattress and roll onto your side, pressed right against him, to meet him halfway in a sweet kiss. 

“You’re kind of spoiled,” you laugh against his lips as he begins pushing the sheet from your body. 

“You have to be nice to me. I got shot, remember?”

“Right. And how long ago was this, approximately?”

“It was 19 days before my 28th birthday.”

So much for approximations. 

“Aw. You got shot for your 28th birthday?”

It’s his turn to laugh into the kiss as he carefully rolls over you but recovers quickly, assuming a deadpan delivery. 

“Yeah. And it was really bad.”

“Sexy,” you murmur as he kisses down your jaw. “Tell me more.”

“Shots to the leg can be life-threatening if the femoral artery is nicked. Thankfully the bullet missed mine. You’re welcome.”

Your heart skips with a split second of true anxiety, but you snort at his cavalier attitude. 

“Yeah? This is really working for me.”

He lowers his voice to the one he uses in more intimate contexts and you giggle as he explains his gunshot wound to you like it’s dirty talk. 

“The bullet went in through my rectus femoris…” now uninhibited by the sheet, he finds the spot on your thigh and pinches lightly, “and came out clean through my semitendinosis muscle.”

“Clean? No bone fragments?”

“Nope. The doctors said I was extremely lucky it didn’t splinter my femur but it completely destroyed my muscles. I had to do physical therapy for a year and a half and I had a cane for months.”

“That’s kind of hot,” you breathe, losing commitment to the bit as his kisses get lower and his hand creeps higher. 

“Wait until you hear about the mid-surgery aortic clamping and ligature complications. You’ll love this—I was awake the whole time.”

A soft moan slips from between your parted lips and your brows pinch. 

“Spencer—”

“What?” He murmurs. “Me getting shot in the leg isn’t sexy anymore?”

You manage something between a breathy laugh and a mewl as your back arches. 

“I’m gonna kill you.”

He hums against your throat. 

“Good luck. You’d be far from the first to try.”

[shippingmyworld]

how long does burnout last? asking for a friend

[nerdyjaw]

crybaby. | l. ackerman

content warnings (please read before continuing): smut, squirting, reader is strong, degradation, babbling, bottom reader, fem reader, overstimulation, levi makes reader count. mdni.

summary: youre the strongest in the room— until you’re under him, babbling his name like it’s the only thing you know.

age in bio or you will be blocked.

creator notes: hihi its jaww!! gonna hop back on my grind and fill up my drafts with posts so i can have them on standby. so sorry for inactivity 😭😭. this might seem ooc for some people (cause we all know levis a HUGE virgin haha) but just ignore whats canon rn and live in a world where he’s experienced in these fields 😭. highkey had to take inspo from other writers’ styles because i cannot write smut in my own style to save my life. holy fentballs. this one is kinda slowburn but not rlly, its just not straight to the point ifykwim. as always, constructive criticism and feedback is always welcomed and appreciated!!!

you, who has the strength of two blue collared men.

doesn’t cry. doesn’t flinch. doesn’t wince when you hit the ground. does not back down for shit. got slammed during training once and bit through your tongue— yet didn’t even blink.

you don’t even look that strong. to literally everyone, you have the build of someone who minds their business. you look tired. maybe a little mean. people assume they can take you on in a spar and have an easy victory— until they’re thrown over your shoulder with one hand. you lift what needs lifting, does what needs doing, and keeps it pushing.

you and levi met during squad reshuffling. you got assigned to his unit because you had a track record for handling fieldwork solo and keeping a calm head. levi didnt speak much to you at first. just gave orders. short, dry acknowledgements when you executed them well.

but the way you picked up full grown soldiers like paper? the way you carried two jugs of water in one hand, and a gear pack in the other? the way you held formation like a wall?

thats enough to get anyone wrapped, even levi.

one day, during a particularly messy clean - up, he noticed blood running down your leg. you were limping slightly, still hauling equipment. and you looked bored. like it wasn’t even worth stopping over.

“sit down.” he told you bluntly.

“i’m fine.” you attempted to argue.

“i didn’t ask.” he retorted.

so you sat. but you laughed a little.

and that was the start.

after that, he’d call on you more often. partnered you with him during scouting runs. paired you up for drills. you didn’t speak much, but when you did, it was always dry, smart, sharp. simple, just how he liked it.

and then one night, after hours, when the barracks were quiet and your hands were bruised from the day’s work, you ran into him. told a joke that got a small smile out of him. told him goodnight— and actually got a response.

and that was how it began.

levi’s quiet, and you are too. the kind of quiet that has its own rhythm. over time, he learned that you like your tea strong and your bathwater hotter than hell. you learned that he stares too hard when he’s tired, and that he can’t sleep unless something’s covering his hands.

and now he knows you.

he knows how you fold under praise.

how you melt before he even puts anything in.

how your voice gets thin and your breathing starts to skip when he whispers in your ear.

how your legs always twitch when all is said and done.

you’re strong. that’s still true.

but now?

now you’re on the bed, back against his chest, gushing.

“p-please—levi—levi— fuck, —i—i’m gonna— i’m gonna—“

hes fingering you quickly, hitting that spot just right. his other hand’s around your throat— barely pressing. just enough to keep you in place. keep your back arched. keep you open for him.

he watches your face closely. watches your lip tremble. watches your eyes start to roll. and he just tilts his head.

“gonna what?” he asks.

you sob. actually sob.

he pushes in again.

“one.”

your eyes roll. your pussy clenches and squirts, warm and sudden and so loud against his palm it echoes.

he hums.

“there she is.”

you’re crying now. deadass crying, drool on your lips and your hips bucking against his hand, your moans becoming hiccups as your eyes start to flutter.

“levi—levi, please—“

“what?” his voice is low. mean. but calm.

“you wanted more.”

“you wanted to be good.”

“so count.”

you shake your head, whimpering.

“i-i c-cant— levi, i need—i need to—“

he grabs your chin— firm, fingers digging just a little.

“you need to shut the fuck up.” his tone is sharp, slicing clean through the haze fogging up your brain. “youre taking it, that’s what youre doing.”

your breath catches. your body violently twitches. the second orgasm hits before the first even fully fades, and you let out a moan that could genuinely just pass as a scream. you can’t even stop it.

and when you come down, you don’t even really come down.

you crash.

“levi— levi i— hahh— fuhhh— i can’t— please—hahh— fuck, fuckfuckfuck— no more—i—s’too—s’too much—i c-can’t— please—“

you’re slurring every other word, drool clinging to your lips, whole body shaking as he curls his fingers just right and presses down harder with his palm, putting pressure directly on your clit. every time you try to breathe, another moan slips out. it’s like your brain is fried and stuck on a loop.

he just watches it all. listens to you babble and squeal like youve never been touched before.

“then stop running your mouth.”

you let out a high pitched, broken whimper— and it just spurs him on. he doesn’t slow down. definitely doesn’t stop.

you’re twitching, thighs trembling around his wrist, voice climbing up into glassy, desperate moans that barely sound like words anymore. it’s just noise now. messy, choked, wet sounds and the obscene slap of his fingers pumping into you, over and over and over—

“cmon,” he whispers directly in your ear, letting his chin rest on your shoulder. “be good. give me another.”

your eyes roll back, and you squirt for the upteenth time. though, the sound of it is barely coherent through the scream you let out.

oh, and you lose count again.

[athenas-only-daughter]

Haunting the Canvas - The Clea Post

spurred on by conversations I've been having with @linka-from-captain-planet, I'm collecting the info we've been able to gather about Clea here, under a read-more for spoilers, because if you run around act 3, there's actually QUITE a bit to glean about her.

This is gonna be a living/edited post as we find more info! Pls let me know if you guys see anything that's missing, find out new info, etc!

Truly as soon as you get to act three, you can't go three feet without bumping into a sidequest that has to do with Clea in some regard. She is HAUNTING the canvas almost as much as real!Verso and she's not even dead.

First and foremost, The Fading Woman is often Clea! Sometimes it's Aline (if she's sad, it's Aline) but especially in act 3 it's Clea. Particularly at the Endless Tower location. If you want to glean more about Clea, I recommend talking to the fading woman when you see her, particularly as Maelle.

Clea is the eldest sibling, this is made plain during Maelle's companion quest at The Reacher

Also in this quest Maelle implies that Clea is Renoir's favorite. Verso disputes this, saying Alicia was his favorite child. However, earlier in a conversation with Lune, Verso says Clea was Renoir's favorite. Seems like there's some nuance here!

Clea has her own axon! If you were like 'hey Renoir made Axons for the rest of his family, where is Clea's?' it's easy to miss but it's the Axon in old Lumiere that's already dead (more on this later)

Clea's Axon seems to be called 'The Hauler' and is carrying part of the world on its back (incredibly on brand Eldest Daughter Shit)

Aline also painted a version of Clea - she is no longer with the painted family and is now trapped in the Flying Manor location by Clea herself.

Clea seemed to not like the portrait Aline painted of her, or at the very least resents her parents trying to portray her in the canvas full stop (she also dislikes the Axon). This led to Clea painting over her mother's version of her and leaving her in the painting to continue her work of making Nevrons.

We know Clea is making the Nevrons thanks to dialogue in the Fountain and Flying Manor quests, as well as Clea's dialogue to Maelle before act 3 AND dialogue with the Fading Woman in the Endless Tower.

The only Nevrons that are NOT Clea's are the ones on the Axon Islands, those are Renoir's.

On that note, why is Clea making Nevrons? she's using them to stop the chroma from returning to her mother when the painted citizens die, hoping to speed along her parents' conflict and then end this once and for all.

Also on this note! Clea is also making the painted WHITE Nevrons that we see and help. I'm still not 100% sure why, but we find this out by talking to Blanche during the Fountain quest, who has the special task of killing all of Clea's failed Nevrons, because god forbid someone see she made a mistake (perfectionist eldest daughter Clea Dessendre I am studying you sooo closely)

Painted Clea had a romance! with a painted lumiere citizen named Simon (he can be fought by reaching the Abyss in Renoir's Drafts)

Real!Clea apparently shared none of her painted counterpart's affections because she tricked him by pretending to be painted!Clea and gave him enough power so he could kill her Axon (also through trickery).

Has entered the painting several times since the start of Aline and Renoir's conflict. Notably to make Nevrons, capture her painted counterpart, trick Simon, but also she met Expedition 00 at the barrier and told them everything. Then tried to kill them when they wouldn’t leave. She also came in and tried to recruit Verso at one point.

Her final time in the canvas, that we know of, was when she came in 16 years ago and told him to watch over Alicia/Maelle.

Clea thinks its safer for Alicia to be in the Canvas, away from the war.

On that note, there's a war! Clea is apparently fighting a war against the Writers near singlehandedly. Renoir calls this her 'solitary war' and Alicia/Maelle says she 'took Verso's death personally', so it seems she's seeking revenge.

Clea is noted by both Alicia/Maelle and painted!Verso as being the most talented painter of the three of them

Also plays the harp!

There's a record you can unlock play at camp called "Clea! Don't Pull Your Sister's Hair!"

Clea seems to have stopped playing in the Canvas well before either of her siblings - Francois is mentioned as missing her for over a hundred years, well before the fracture.

Francois and Clea used to sing together!

Much of the original canvas was made my Verso and Clea together. In the Endless Tower, the Fading Woman (Clea, here) says that she "spent far more time" in the canvas than Alicia and that she painted "half this world with Verso"

Despite this, Clea does not share her family's same fixation on it and seems to dislike their meddling with it - her mother's painted creations, her father's axons, etc. She does not consider the painting 'real', but "was perfectly fine to leave Maman here to work on her sorrows", and says it's Alicia's choice if she stays. She seems equally dismissive of her parents, saying that Aline "doesn't want help" and Renoir is "wasting time" when she needs his help.

There's a Fading Boy and another fragment of Clea in Fading Leaves. The Clea fragment has been erasing things from the canvas, 'out of respect for him, his creations and the things they made together'. We can infer she's talking about Verso here. The Fading Boy (remember, a fragment of Verso's soul) seems to be disheartened by this.

ETA: In the Painting Workshop, the Fading Boy talks to you about both real!Clea and Painted!Clea. It's hard to parse which is which but it seems like Real!Clea might have made the Lampmaster specifically to spook Verso, maybe when they were kids? The Fading Boy implies that he told Clea he was scared of the dark and she made him the world's most haunted nightlight (sisters amiright?)

Additionally, he mentions 'jealousy' so it seems Clea was, at times, jealous of Verso. This tracks with her being the most talented painter of the 3 but overlooked for her brother and also with something the Fading Boy says at the start of the flying manor that seems to be about Clea (not sure whether real or painted): "Everything is always about her. Her paintings, her sculptures. Everything has to be perfect, but perfect I have never been"

ETA: In Old Lumiere, the Fading Man (Renoir) seems to have some interesting things to say about 'she who painted nevrons' aka Clea: "She wasn't scared of death itself. / She was sad because there are more works of art than she'd ever be able to see in her lifetime. / So many fables from around the world that she'd never be able to collect. To bring her life in her workshop. / All the beauty in the world she'd never get to experience. That saddened her."

He also says that Clea "loved to challenge him" and that they were "the most alike"

ETA: At the Forgotten Battlefield, there's a Clea Fading Woman who asks Maelle if she can help and when Maelle is confused, says "I guess not. Pity. I'd hoped to return to more important matters. But instead I must occupy my time with... this." She then tells Maelle to "Go and play with your friends. I'll handle this."

[hyunjiiza]

ꕀ ✸ dance your heart ‹𝟹 (and mine) away ༶

【d-a-n-c-e ୨୧】 𓏲 when 𝑒𝘯𝘩𝘺𝘱𝘦𝘯 members meet (and crush on) their new choreographer , you ◠ .ᐟ 𝓌.𝒸 ◌ 𝟷𝟼𝟷𝟸 ㄑ𝑝𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 ᛝ ot7 ! 𝓍 gender neutral! reader ⢄cont. | reader can dance , first time meetings - mentions of mistreatment (super vague), reader gets called pretty / cute ᝰ library  

❥ 𝒾𝘴𝘢’𝘴 note ꕀ | hi guys !! my first time writing for enha so im a little nervous but i think its okay, i might do a part two as a smau or something where you actually start dating! first post in a while that isn’t a re up load .. i got a burst of motivation so im taking advantage ,, also i started watching dahmer and i like how it was filmed and how they portray everything so if you’re into that kind of stuff i recommend giving it a watch !! happy reading

ʚ ni-ki ɞ

definitely thrown off guard when they’re promised a new choreographer and someone his type walks in

subtly tries to get to know more about you while making it seem like he’s just being nice

has to debate going extra hard to impress you or acting stuck to get your help

“can you maybe do it with me? or can i watch you do it first??”

all the other members notice and make fun of him but they like you too so they’re unintentionally wingmen

jungwon convinces you to hang out with all of them and seats you and niki together (everyone can tell what he’s doing)

he legit goes red and stiff as a board when you sit next to him even though he tries so hard to make it go unnoticed

works up the courage to ask to have a one on one session to work on new choreo

spoiler: it’s awkward because he’s shitting bricks

“so.. do you have a boyfriend..”

“you couldn’t ask me that after i got out of a handstand”

ʚ jungwon ɞ

is plotting on you the MOMENT you introduce yourself

what initially draws him to you is the way you’re insistent on making the dance room a safe space for them

takes full advantage of the fact that he’s the leader and is always hogging you

late nights together: making new choreography, learning new tricks, drafting stretches and vocal exercises to do while working out, laughing and laying together flat back on the cool dance floor. this is when he really starts understanding his feelings for you.

watches the way you interact with all the other boys to determine if he really wants to go for it or not

asks you to stay after practice one day and you genuinely think you’re about to get fired but he just walks out of the room and then back in with flowers and a pretty flush to his face

“ithinkyou’rereallyprettyandireallyreallywannatakeyouonadatepleasesayyes ..?”

“uh.. what?”

ʚ sunoo ɞ

wasn’t even listening when the company told the group they were getting a new choreographer so when you walk into the room and introduce yourself he takes it as a blessing

he does actually get a little stuck sometimes and is prepared to be scolded but when you just explain it slower for him he falls hard

once you settle into a comfortable rhythm with the whole group he recruits jungwon to ask about your love life, your type and if you wanna date someone

convinces you to stay with him after practice to “take his instagram pictures” but really just wants to have alone time with you

doesn’t really know how to ask you out so he just gradually gets you to go out with him more and more

facetimes you saying he has questions but just makes you stay on the phone with him while he does skincare and falls asleep

“you bought this for me?? it’s really expensive !”

“i’m bribing you. will you go out with me?”

ʚ sunghoon ɞ

nervous when they’re all waiting to meet you, (even though it’s literally not a big deal he’s just weird.) definitely bouncing his leg up and down

cusses up a storm in his head when he realizes he’s gonna have to work with you and his heart is definitely not gonna be able to handle that

messes up because he gets distracted staring at you

convinces jungwon to ask if you can be there for filming because he likes your presence

catches you practicing before actual practice starts and scares the shit out of you bc he’s just there staring at you

wants to die when you fall out of what you were doing and trip

cringes at himself and goes to help you get up with his stupidly muscly arms

“i’m so sorry..” while he’s still holding you and doesn’t realize he can let you go now til you start laughing

bonus: let’s you go and you fall again and then he falls to the floor laughing with you

“your laugh is cute”

“you’re cute”

“yeah. wait what?!”

ʚ jake ɞ

thinks he’s being nonchalant about his crush but stares at you the whole time they practice

gets really into the dance and makes stupid faces and is really embarrassed after

convinces you to go get food with him after a super long practice and you end up talking for hours about everything

it’s great, until you realize you walked there. and the other members left him.. and your car is currently getting a tire replaced

gets an uber with you to your house, walks you to the door, and then the uber leaves him because he thinks he’s going there too 😭

he’s actually really embarrassed and thinks you think he’s stupid but he gets heeseung to come get him and you let him in and make him play uno with you

heeseung comes! to save the day!! he also gets stuck playing uno ..

everyone falls asleep on your couch

you and jake end up waking up together in the morning and make breakfast together like you’re parents

gentle grabs of the waist from behind, grabbing things from top shelves for you, maybe even a kiss up against the counter

“are you guys fucking making out? and what is that smell??”

“the eggs :(“

safe to say all three of you do the walk of shame into the practice room after breakfast

ʚ jay ɞ

literally doesn’t care that they’re getting a new choreographer

until you walk in

“bro who is that??” “the new choreographer?? who else dumbfuck??”

literally acts like an outstanding citizen. does NOT let you catch him lacking.

cleans up, buys everyone snacks from the vending machine, if you need a volunteer he’s there

everyone laughs at him because they can tell he’s just trying to impress you, so they come up with a master plan to also act like him so he has to step it up

he almost throws a brick at jungwon when he starts getting you your favorite drink before every practice, looking him directly in the eye every time he hands it to you and you smile

“i can take you out and stuff. like we can go out together you know?? and get you more than drinks. if you want..”

(while he’s red in the face)

ʚ heeseung ɞ

is the most skeptical about someone new coming in, so your first session after meeting he’s just watching you

someone messes up and you jokingly say “everyone drop and give me 100” and they actually start and you’re just like what the hell

when you’re like “guys please i was kidding” everyone is also like what the hell bc they thought you were fr

he thinks the concerned look on your face is so cute he isn’t even embarrassed about dropping to the floor instantly

you make NO jokes after that and everyone feels bad (including you)

jake suggests you all go out for ice cream to break the ice (haha)

heeseung runs over to the seat next to you

you get the same flavor and he’s silently coming up with baby names bc he’s convinced it’s fate

once everyone starts laughing together you rest your head on his shoulder without noticing and he creams his pants and leans his head on top of yours

“get a room” -niki. followed by a smack

𖨂 tag | @cosmicalily @0sunshinecryptid0 @jinnieboosworld @lixies-favorite-cookie @zelinkcrossing @hwanqluvs @eastjonowhere @nxtt2-u @pixie-felix @smlbch @tricky-ritz @yaniluvs @pigeonseatmayo @transparentheartcollection @4ng3l-ch1ld | 【༝༚ 】 @hyunjiiza 7:07

[mercurial-chuckles]

Taut Thursday Thought

Pairing: Steve x F!Reader x Bucky | Stucky x F!Reader Warnings: Overloaded fluff | Language | Allusions to naughty times | Poly relationship | Two hot specimen | Bucky kissing | Unedited I think that's all. Lemme know if I'm missing anything. A/N: This Thought has been sitting in my drafts for so long. It’s a small, fluffy piece that can be enjoyed on its own or as the aftermath of Captain, Sgt. Grumpy, & their Doll! Note: Do not Steal, Copy or Plagiarize any part of my work! GIF credits to the OPs! Divider credits to @buck-star Thank you :) Check out my other works: Masterlist

♡ Weeklong Thingamajig ♡

Indulge Away!

You love them.

You do.

You'd lay down your life for them in a heartbeat. You'd kill for them, too.

But right now, you were this close to throttling them both because your two men, your stubborn, clingy supersoldiers, are being utterly insufferable little shits.

Ever since that fateful mission briefing two days ago, where Steve benched Bucky for that hydra mission, you were forced into the role of mediator, therapist, and occasionally referee.

You hardly ever minded their arguments.

Being stubborn was part of their inherent charm. And if you were being entirely honest, the sight of two hot, gorgeous-looking Adonis bickering like kids was utterly cute and extremely delicious.

And, most often than not, it ended up with you stripped and fucked within an inch of your life, which you never minded, of course. Welcomed even.

But right now, you were so done, watching your two days off work nearly slip away, marred by Bucky's passive aggressiveness and Steve's sassiness. They were really dragging this out. Bucky was really dragging this out.

Desperate for some alone time, you concocted what should have been a neat plan, grocery shopping. Also, you figured if they spent some time alone they would either talk and clear it out or fuck it out.

"I'm just gonna go to the store and grab some stuff," you said casually, already halfway out the door.

Who in their right mind would volunteer for that? Well, THEM.

Steve walked to the door. "Okay," he said, grabbing his jacket and that awful excuse of a disguise, the baseball cap, that fooled no one except him.

Before you could protest, Bucky vaulted over the couch, grabbed his leather jacket, and smirked. "I'm coming." He declared.

"No, really, it's fine," you insisted, your voice as calm as you could muster. "I'll be back in a jiff. No big deal."

But it was fucking pointless.

There was one impending issue, the cashier gave you heart-eyes and creepy vibes the three times you went there alone, and your men wouldn't take it lightly if they got a whiff of it.

You hoped the cashier was smart enough not to pull off any stunt tonight. Your drama quota for the month was done.

Grocery shopping with two Avengers, who people fawned over, gathered unwarranted attention! So, you tried ditching them most of the time. Tried. When your stubborn men denied leaving you out of their sight, even for a second, you shifted to a nearby local store where not many people frequented.

Plus, the store had your favorite ice cream stocked all the time.

"You coming, doll?" Bucky called out, holding the door open for you. Steve already started the car.

Ugh! So much for some alone time.

~

It wasn't as bad as you had anticipated. There weren't too many shoppers, either.

Steve pushed the cart beside you while Bucky was a few feet behind, stopping occasionally to inspect items closely. Steve and Bucky shared looks every now and then.

It was adorable, really.

When you stopped at the pasta section, you spotted a few packs of gnocchi on the top shelf. Stretching up on your toes, you huffed in frustration as it remained just out of reach.

When you turned to ask Steve for help, he was leaning casually on the cart, clearly entertained, with a smirk tugging at his lips.

"You've got this," he encouraged, chuckling. "Put your ass into it. Yeah…just like that."

You shook your head, glaring daggers at him. "Shut up," you muttered, feeling flushed under his gaze.

Steve's grin widened, utterly unapologetic. "I'm just saying, it's good form." He gestured to your ass, wildly.

Irritated, you swatted at his bicep. He barely flinched, laughing harder now. Then, without a word, he stepped closer, boxed you in against the shelves, and effortlessly plucked a few packets of gnocchi from the top shelf.

"Beanstalk," you grumbled.

He leaned down, kissing your lips before setting the packets neatly into the cart.

Behind you, Bucky was still immersed in his sauce analysis, completely oblivious to the girl who had wandered up to him. She smiled brightly, clearly interested, and positioned herself a little too close. Bucky, oblivious, took a small step away instinctively, still studying the jar in his hand.

Steve leaned closer to you, pulling you gently against his broad frame.

"Oh, boy," he whispered.

You tugged him down to your level, whispering. "Shhhh! Be discrete, Captain."

"This should be fun," Steve muttered, glancing toward the scene. "Think I should record it?"

"Don't you dare," you warned, biting back a laugh.

Meanwhile, the girl had turned up the charm, outright flirting with Bucky.

Bucky blinked, finally noticing her intentions.

"Uh, I..." He mumbled, clearly uncomfortable. He tried to step aside, but she pressed on, slipping him a piece of paper. "Here's my number. You should call me."

Steve and you froze, exchanging wide-eyed glances as you both tried not to laugh. Steve was practically vibrating with barely contained glee.

"Steve look away," you whispered, lips twitching. "Oh, no, no, no. Did he see us?" Steve cleared his throat and pointed to some fascinating-looking dried noodles.

Bucky cast a desperate look your way, catching you and Steve pretending to be busy.

He pointed a finger at both of you, "Actually, those two..." He cut himself off, handing her the jar of sauce with a quick, "You should try this," before rushing over to you.

Then, without warning, Bucky grabbed Steve by the collar, yanked him down, and kissed him.

Full. On. Kiss.

It wasn't a peck, either; It was a no-room-for-interpretation, "this man is mine" kind of kiss. Steve's cap tumbled to the ground. Somewhere, an angel probably got its wings.

The girl gaped.

You gaped.

Steve moaned.

Bucky growled.

When Bucky finally pulled back, Steve looked dazed, and the girl bolted out of the aisle faster than you'd ever seen anyone move.

Bending down, you retrieved Steve's cap and handed it to him with a grin. "Well, that's one way to make out… work it out, I mean."

Steve blinked at you, cheeks pink. "Didn't see that coming."

"Neither did I," you said, giggling as you glanced at Bucky. "But hey, I think you just saved that girl a lifetime of rejection trauma by kissing Stevie."

Bucky crossed his arms, his lips still pink from the kiss. "What're you giggling about?"

"Oh, nothing," you teased, waving him off.

He narrowed his eyes and stepped closer. He cupped your cheek and kissed you, too, leaving you breathless.

When you finally broke away, befuddled, Steve was laughing, ushering the three of you out of the aisle. Bucky wrapped his metal arm around your shoulder while scrolling through his phone with the other hand.

"We should probably erase that footage," Steve muttered, gesturing toward the security cameras.

"Already on it, punk," Bucky snorted.

"Of course you are," You mumbled.

"Don't you roll your eyes at me," Bucky groaned, "You're gonna get it," planting a loud, exaggerated kiss on your cheek.

Meh!

It seemed like the shopping trip wasn't such a bad idea, but knowing how things might go once you got home, maybe you should consider extending your leave for another day.

There there! How was it? Feed me your thoughts, please!

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[anonity]

SOMEONE BETTER -- oneshot

been gone for a min for a last min road trip w/ friends for new years :) happy 2025! had this in my drafts after watching the paige ep on flau’jaes podcast

WC: ~1200 summary: paige catches you and your saved basketball edits

the amount of paige edits that popped up on your for-you-page was diabolical. especially considering she was your roommate.

you were waiting for her to return from practice, feet kicked up on the coffee table of your apartment, when the first of the day came up.

originally, you’d justified your ever-growing collection of edits as hype-videos: something you could scroll through before paige’s games to get you in the right mood. for a while, that checked out – you only saved her highlights, quick moving graphics with smooth transitions.

but then it had quickly devolved into what can only be described as an obsessive fan folder, filled with edits so thirsty you think you would actually combust if anyone saw them, let alone paige.

it was bound to happen.

you continued watching edits when the door opened, kept scrolling when it closed, and carried on even as paige leaned curiously on the kitchen counter. its not like she would know who you were watching – hell, you had juju watkins videos coming up on your page every couple days, too. 

this arrangement had worked perfectly for you for months. you got to indulge in your quietest delusions, and your best-friend-turned-roommate could continue on none the wiser. 

until her voice rang out clearly from your phone. you would’ve played it off, really, said it was an interview clip or something, had her voice not immediately been followed by the “or nah” audio. 

mortified did not even begin to describe the feeling clawing into your throat.

you scrolled impossibly fast and began praying. maybe she hadn’t been paying attention. maybe she wasn’t even in the kitchen anymore. maybe you’d imagined the entire thing and paige wasn’t even real and this was all some kind of awful dream you’d wake up from in 3, 2, 1…

“whatcha watchin’?”

you think your soul has left your body. 

paige is sauntering over and looking very smug. you’re wondering how fast you can make it from the couch to the balcony. 

“an interview,” you try anyway, despite the fact that not a single interview in the history of basketball has ever included fucking ty dolla sign.

paige smirks, leaning over the back of the couch. her breath tickles the top of your head and you shiver despite yourself, eyes trained on the tiktok now repeating on your phone – one of those orange muppet videos (pepe? is he supposed to be a shrimp?) stuck on the first slide. really, if it weren’t for the horrors of your current situation, you would find the irony funny. if you survived this event, maybe you would make one. you can see it now. “i’m watching edits of my roommate – my roommate walks in – i have to defend myself to my roommate –” i have to defend myself to my roommate.

“which interview?”

“umm,” you say, eloquently. you can’t think past your orange muppet spiral. “overwatch?”

paige laughs, a noise that distracts you long enough for her to yank your phone away. “overtime?”

shit.

you can barely get out a disdained “paige!” before you hear the audio repeating again. would a fall from the third floor kill you? is it still considered a fall if you jump?

you stop lunging for your phone – maybe you can just play it cool. who cares if theres a paige edit on your FYP? it's only weird if you make it weird. “you act like those don’t pop up on your for you page too.” 

paige shushes you, biting her cheeks in mock-seriousness. she shushes you! the nerve! if you weren’t so mortified you would argue with her! 

but you are mortified, and so you stay quiet.  the silence stretches on and on until your phone also goes silent. the apartment's heating unit is suddenly very loud, and for once you aren’t irritated at the noise – instead, you just think of how much you will actually miss your loud heating unit once paige processes the situation and kicks you out of your apartment in the dead of winter. 

you think it can’t get any worse, until another audio starts playing and a self-satisfied grin stretches across paiges face. “you have like 70 videos in here.”

somebody kill me.

the original silence is filled with mr. lover lover, and there is absolutely no way you can “it’s for the hype” your way out of this. she continues scrolling. you stare helplessly at the floor. after what you can only guess is six or seven incriminating edits, she pauses, her jaw clenching inexplicably. here it comes. 'get out of my apartment' – 'i can’t look at you the same anymore'. you’re so cooked. fried, even.

“whatchu got caitlin saved in here for?”

what?

you must’ve voiced that thought out loud, because she responds. “you got a thing for iowa players too?”

your brows furrow. this was not the direction you thought this would be going in. instead, theres an edge cutting through paige’s words that you can’t quite place. is she still pissed? you let out a nervous laugh. “relax, paige, it’s not like i’m making wedding plans with her.”

paige stiffens. “it’s enough for a save-the-date.”

“paige, it’s like a 30 to 1 ratio.”

“yeah, our points ratio is 30:1 too.”

what the hell? first of all, you watch enough basketball to know that's not true. second of all, again, what the hell? 

“i mean, it’s fine, i get it.” paige shrugs, suddenly uninterested in your phone. she tosses it on the couch and you (slowly) slip it into your pocket before she can change her mind. “i just think it’s funny you watch her when you literally live with someone better.”

“better at what?” paige splutters. “basketball.” 

suddenly, it clicks. you sit, quiet, stunned for a second. “paige, if i didn’t know any better i’d say you sound jealous.”

“it’s not jealousy! it’s.. like, respect.” paige gestures wildly, and you’d almost believe her if there wasn’t a flush creeping up her neck.  you raise a brow. “respect?” “we share a netflix account! and you’re saving edits of my competition!” “you’re totally jealous.” 

paige looks cornered, backing towards the kitchen. her gaze falls to the floor. “i just think, like, i dunno – i just think i care about you and i’m right here and you’re saving edits of caitlin freakin’ clark.”

you can’t help the laugh that escapes, the absurdity of this situation catching up to you. somewhere in the back of your mind, you see the orange muppet again. 

“what’s so funny?”

“you’re just –” you take a deep breath. “i can’t believe your jealous over a caitlin clark edit. you act like we’re together or something.”

“maybe i wanna be.”

paige freezes. you freeze. the heater kicks off. you're moving before you can think about it, standing in front of her. her eyes stay trained to the floor.

“i’m sorry. i just – you drive me crazy.”

“you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

she finally glances up, a smile cracking. “it’s not.”

“then what are you gonna do about it?”

her hand is on your jawline in an instant, and the nervousness bubbling in your chest is finally cut off with her lips on yours. when you pull away, she’s grinning.

“30:1 edit ratio, huh?”

your face heats, and you push your head against her chest. “not funny, paige.”

“i’ll make a new folder for you – poor decisions, filled with caitlin clark edits.”

"alright that's enough."