Commander Princess Fic Collection

[necromancelena]

*baps you with my paws* *baps you with my paws* *baps you with my paws* *baps you with my paws* *baps you with my paws* *baps you with my paws* *baps you with my paws* *baps you with my paws* *baps you with my paws* *baps you with my paws* *baps you with my paws* *baps you with my paws* *baps you with my paws* *baps you with my paws*

[angrymurderchild]

[thatone-highlighter]

Reblog to bap the person you reblogged from with your paws

[subrage]

Whole new feel once you've read DCC #7

[clexmas25]

Hey ya, made a few small clips for this year's Clextober, nothing big but here they are 😊 thank you for organizing this

https://www.tumblr.com/darkomen-carey/732596175595765760/finished-this-at-3m-but-finally-catching-up-with?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/darkomen-carey/732756436756660224/clextober-day-6-vampires-to-warewolves-got?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/darkomen-carey/732569289397288960/clextober-day-4-magical-nights-you-can-take-the?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/darkomen-carey/732555944860516352/clextober-day-3-annual-fall-festival-just-a?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/darkomen-carey/732487220908457984/clextober23-day-2-pumpkin-spice-everything-nice?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/darkomen-carey/732481351523106816/it-was-point-out-how-clextober-wasnt-big-this?source=share

Before Clexmas starts, I wanted to post this. Some how I missed it during Clextober. My apologies!

[darkomen-carey]

Clextober23 day 2: Pumpkin Spice & Everything Nice

[darkomen-carey]

CLEXTOBER DAY 3: Annual Fall Festival

Just a recap of what clexa's fall festival fun looks like.

[darkomen-carey]

Clextober day 4: Magical Nights

You can take the fairy out of the woods but not the woods out of the fairy.

[darkomen-carey]

Finished this at 3m but finally catching up with Clextober, day 5 The other side.

The other side of the internet... is valid right? idk lol couldn't think of anything else 😅

[clexmas25]

Day 2 - Pumpkin Spice & Everything Nice

Pumpkin patches, pumpkin spice lattes, pumpkin carving, pumpkin spice candles, all things pumpkins!

REMEMBER TO TAG! #Clextober23 #7DaysofClexa #Day 2 Pumpkin Spice & Everything Nice

[jennamacaroni]

1. Clarke and Lexa.

from this post 1) things you said at 1 am

It’s an odd feeling, coming home.

It looks the same from the air.  Sweeping green forest even though the deciduous trees have long since shed their leaves, the ocean the same deep indigo you still dream about sometimes.

There’s the island where you had your first kiss.  The bridge where you pushed your old jeep until the speedometer needle bottomed out.  Your high school boyfriend’s old house.  The coffee shop where you had your first job.

It’s all so incredibly familiar and impossibly foreign.  It’s been ten years since your life here.  It feels like another life, or someone else’s altogether.  Someone you read about in an old dusty book.

The streets are the same, littered with potholes, the last stubborn remnants of filthy snow lining the highway as you head south, nostalgia flooding your system as the road turns, taking you right into town.

You swallow as you pull up to the bar, blinking slowly into the night.  You’ve kept up with a few friends from back then, the few who have known you from your old life waiting just inside to welcome you home.

It’s stupid to be nervous, but you are.

“The prodigal townie returns.”  Anya pushes you hard in the shoulder but your balance doesn’t falter, a grin pulling at your lips as she catches you around the wrists and tugs you in close.  Her warmth and smell envelop you, pulling you back through time.

“It’s good to see you,” she murmurs against the side of your head, and you grip her fiercely, sinking into her and blinking away the sudden nostalgia.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too, kid.  It’s been too long, Lexa.”

She’s right.  It’s been years.  Doesn’t help that you’re both awful at the phone and inept at computers, content with a postcard here or there, a message on each other’s birthday.

“I know.”

“I’m glad you’re home.”

But it’s not really home.  You moved away for school and the rest of your life came with it.  Slowly but surely each cord that tied you to this town was cut, one here, another there, until there were none left to hold you there.

You’d moved on and everyone else just faded from your memory.  Out of sight and out of mind.

Anya drags you into a booth, pulling you into her side and snaps a selfie, posting it to Facebook.  Look who I found, the caption reads, and soon enough the bar fills with your old friends.  The ones who never really left this town, who are content to live as they always have, and as their parents before them.  They never ached for distance the way you did.

“Lighten up, Lex,” Anya elbows you hard in the ribs and you spit beer right into her face, a wide smile bursting at her offence.

“It’s just, I don’t know.”

“Weird?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s only a few days, lighten up.”

You hum and take another sip, hoping the alcohol will loosen you up, shake the unsettled feeling in your stomach at the odd familiarity of it all.

After an hour of small talk and townie gossip, you decide a shot would help, making your way to the bar.  You catch Anya’s eye from across the dingy pub and raise an eyebrow in silent question.  Of course she’ll take one.  After all, Anya was the one who was with you the first time you tasted whiskey.

“So you’re the one they all talk about.”

You turn slowly at the words, a shiver starting at the base of your neck and radiating down your spine.  The bartender is gorgeous, eyebrow cocked, lips pursed and trying to hide a smile.  You blink slowly, the weirdest sense of deja vu striking you like lightning and coursing through your nerves like a current.

“I’m sorry?”

Her smile finally breaks, pulling wonderfully across her face, sky blue eyes twinkling.  You catch yourself staring at her long eyelashes.  They curl and brush just under her eyebrows.  “You’d think the queen herself was walking into the bar tonight the way they’ve been talking about you.”

“Beyonce or Elizabeth?”

“Either one.”

“I’m just an old friend.”

“I hear you’re a legend.”

You scoff at that, waving your hand absently at the rather large posse now gathered around your table.  “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”

“Oh, I don’t.”

“I need whiskey.”

You can’t even look away from her, nor she from you, so instead you just stare, heat creeping up your neck and flushing the tips of your ears.  Luckily they stay hidden behind your wild hair, although you’re positive your face is just as red.

“I have that here.”  You bite the inside of your cheek, still trying to remember if you’ve met this girl before.  There’s something about her that presses against your chest and settles there, heavy and familiar.

“Jack.  Two, please”  She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and takes one last look before turning to the liquor bottles and pouring two large shots of deep brown liquor, settling them in between you.

Your fingers brush and there’s a flash of a memory.  Your hand in hers, parallel cuts of black across the palm and fingers.  A cloth bandage laid across her lap, covered in silken blue.

It’s gone in an instant, and you startle, blinking once, twice, and finding her eyes.  She looks just as stunned, as if she’d seen something too.  You swallow and take both shots in rapid succession, suddenly overwhelmed.  The room feels like it’s shrunken exponentially and all the oxygen is gone.  You can’t breathe.

You stumble through the back door, palms finding the cold brick of the building before you press your forehead there, forcing thick gulps of frozen air down into your lungs.  You’re shaking, and it’s not from winter.

The door opens a moment later and she’s at your side.  She’s so close you feel her breath on your cheek.

You turn your face to her and her eyes are clouded, a storm churning deep within her irises.  She lays a palm against your cheek and a dam bursts.

A girl falling from the sky and conquering the earth.  Armies and alliances and blood-covered faces.  On your knees at her feet, her face through the crowd as you fight for your life, her hand wrapped around your forearm and pulling you in.  Her body, naked and bathed in sunlight.  Her lips on your skin.  Her tears as you take your final breath.

Tears spill over your cheeks as you open your eyes, her face so close, the skin of her palm so warm.

“Clarke,” you whisper, your hand finding the back of her neck.

“I’ve missed you so much, love.”

And then she kisses you.

[glping-art]

Oso Gonplei Nou Ste Odon Nowe.-“Our Fight Is Never Over”

She’s a fierce warrior, a strong leader, a powerful woman. And that’s all what I want to remember her.  

——————–

Twitter / Deviantart / Instagram

[clexaweekofficial]

Clexaweek22 Themes

Here are the themes that won for the upcoming Clexaweek22! If you would like to participate, just create something (write a fic, draw some art, make a moodboard, a video edit, you name it!) that somehow involves that particular theme. Whether you create or not, please participate by supporting each other! :) Reblog posts instead of just liking, and leave nice comments on content! 

And with that, here are our themes!

Day 1: Tuesday, March 1st - Vintage AU

A retro/past decades au. There are plenty of options for this! An early 20th century au where Clexa are suffragettes. A 90s grunge Clexa. A 10th century knight!Lexa princess!Clarke au fighting dragons. 70s Clexa at the disco. Shakespearean Clexa. Anything in the past, whether based on reality or fantasy, have fun with it!

Day 2: Wednesday, March 2nd - Trapped AU

Are roommates Clexa somehow stuck together in quarantine? Are enemies-to-lovers co-worker Clexa stuck in the ice box while closing their shift? Does a sudden acid snowstorm on an alien planet force Clexa to take shelter and cuddle naked together? You decide! 

Day 3: Thursday, March 3rd - 6 Years Later

Ahh, reunions! Are Clexa exes who had a sad breakup in college and they’ve just ran into each other six years later in another country of all places? Are Clexa old best friends who lost touch in middle school and find themselves at the same college together, freshmen sharing a room? Does Wanheda disappear for 6 years and return? Instead of dying in 307, was Lexa instead hidden away and lost her memories, and six years later finds Clarke?

Day 4: Friday, March 4th - Arranged Marriage

Must Clarke marry Heda Lexa for the sake of their people? Do modern Clexa get married to fake date for a spousal visa so one of them isn’t booted out of the country? Are Clexa exes who are somehow forced into a marriage when a dying relative lists that as a requirement of the will? 

Day 5: Saturday, March 5th - Reality TV

Does Lexa help Clarke realize she has a soggy bottom during an episode of the Great British Bake Off? Does celebrity Clarke find herself in over her head when wilderness expert Lexa takes her on an episode of Man vs Wild that goes all wrong? Do exes Clexa catch the room on fire during an intense episode of Chopped? Survivor, America’s Top Model, Nature Documentaries, the Circle, Bachelorette, the list goes on - go wild! 

Day 6: Sunday, March 6th - Be Gay Do Crime

Are Clexa notorious villains that wreak havoc on a city, or are they chaotic goods who act as Robin Hood to their village? Is Lexa an art thief that runs into artist Clarke when she’s trying to steal her work? Is Clarke a graffiti artist that shop-owner Lexa catches vandalizing her walls? You choose!

Day 7: Monday, March 7th - Free Day

For free day, you can do anything you want. You can even use it as an Update Your WIP day! 

—

We have 3 months until Clexaweek22! :) I’ll post the instructions closer to time.

Excited to see all the new content! 

[butmakeitgayblog]

Teach Me

Ch 2. Slow and Steady

_________________________

The quiet of the ceramics lab was one of her favorite spaces in the world. Filled with the earthy scent of clay and freshly mixed slip, and the muddled chirp of birds nested just outside the lab's sole window. 

She moved around the room with ease, barely watching where she was going as she tilted hips this way and that, pivoting on the balls of her feet in a well practiced dance as she wound her way through work stations. 

Folding the final swatch of frayed burlap and straightening it for no particular reason, Lexa mentally went through her first day checklist one last time on her way back across the room. 

Syllabus. Set.

Work cloth. Set.

Got the sample clay divided, slip mixed, glazes labeled--

"Knock, knock."

She halted at the light call and twisted around toward the open doorway

"Oh," Lexa said in a bizarrely breathy laugh as an unbidden smile unfurled across her face. "Hello."

"Hey."

"We meet again."

"So we do," Clarke smiled right back as she came a few steps forward and took a quick survey of the room. 

"Class doesn't start for another fifteen minutes," Lexa said, vaguely gesturing toward the clock on the wall behind her.

Rocking up on her toes, Clarke bobbed her head in a nod. "Yeah, I know, I'm early," she said as she pulled a face. "But I have an hour between my last class and this one, and there's only so much sitting in my car I can do. I hope this is--"

"Oh! Yeah, no, please, come in, come in," Lexa said with a start and beckoned Clarke further into the room. She moved to pull the stool out from beneath the work station across from her and motioned for Clarke to set her stuff down. "I wasn't saying it was a bother. You're welcome any time. It was just… I'm used to students generally flying through the door at the last second on syllabus day."

"Learned my lesson on that last time, as I'm sure you remember." Clarke rolled her eyes as she walked over, continuing as she set her bag down and flipped it open. "My daughter lorded it over me all night. 'Woooow, mom, that doesn't sound very responsible of you. You really need to work on your time management.' Little twerp."

"She sounds precious."

"Well, she is my child. But besides that, I just hate being late in general. Ruins my 'overachiever' street cred."

Lexa let out a small laugh and leaned her hip against the workstation table ledge. "I'm not entirely sure if overachiever comes with street cred, does it?"

"Oh, yes," Clarke said with utmost seriousness, though her eyes shone with a kind of teasing that made Lexa's stomach swoop. "Very intense stuff, Professor."

"Hm. I'll be sure to keep that in mind while grading studio practices then."

"Just you wait."

Releasing a laugh through her nose, Lexa pushed away from the table and made her way over to grab the clipboard off her workspace. "So, two classes, huh?"

Clarke hummed in question, looking up from where she was rifling through her bag when Lexa turned back from hanging the sign-out sheet. "What now?"

"Two classes," Lexa repeated. "With me."

"Uh. Yep."

"Sure that was a wise choice? You'll probably be sick of me by the end of the semester."

A lovely shade of rose sprung to Clarke's cheeks as Lexa watched her bite her lip and smile before pressing a palm over her eyes. "Egh. Okay. Um," Clarke awkwardly chuckled as she dragged her hand away, "can I tell you something slightly embarrassing?"

Eyebrows shooting up, Lexa rested her hands on her hips and sent Clarke a toothy smile. "Well that's entirely too intriguing to say no to."

"Don't judge me, alright," Clarke said. "But I… may... have been mildly drunk when I applied to come here."

A beat of silence echoed between them before Lexa snorted. "What?"

"It's not as bad as it sounds!" Clarke rushed on. "It was just-- My Madi was with her dad that night, and I was feeling all zen and 'one' with the universe.... And more than a little 'one' with an unfairly good bottle of rosé, and I… It just sounded like a great idea."

"No, I get it. I've had those nights, believe me," Lexa eased as she felt compelled to share in the woman's obvious fluster. 

"See? Okay. Thank you."

"So… You're saying you planned your entire semester while three sheets in?"

"I believe the term I used was mildly drunk," Clarke pointed out with narrowed eyes as she went back to riffling in her bag. "But… yes. Basically. And I went through the classes I thought looked interesting, then looked up the professors to see who had the best ratings and chose from there."

"You're saying you chose my classes because drunk-you read that I come highly recommended?"

"Yes. Well, no. I mean, yes, that, but mostly--"

Clarke's words cut off with a click of her jaw.

So Lexa waited.

And waited. 

Watched Clarke's movements falter as blue eyes darted up and that blush bloom deeper. 

"What?" Lexa finally prompted.

"It's so stupid and I regret bringing this up now."

"Okay but you have to tell me," Lexa egged her on as she walked over and leaned her palms on the worktable between them. "You can't lead with something like that and leave a girl hanging."

Clarke sighed and plopped down on the stool behind her. 

Resigned eyes locked onto her as Clarke rested her chin in her hand.

"L. Woods."

Lexa frowned and bent closer. "... Excuse me?"

"L… Woods," Clarke repeated slowly with a shake of her head. 

It took a moment of silence, but just the one, before the penny finally dropped. 

"Are you serious?" Lexa asked as she shoved up with a scoff. 

"Listen, drunk me thought it was hilarious," Clarke said and held her hands up in surrender. "I remember having a really good time randomly saying 'what, like it's hard?' while I was writing everything down. And then when I met with my advisor, I just gave him the list from that night, and… yeah, here we are."

"Of course," Lexa sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose before pushing her glasses higher. "That movie is the bane of my existence, I hope you know that."

"Duly noted, but it was highly amusing at the time. And it did get me here, so..."

"It remains to be seen if that's even a good or bad thing, Clarke."

"Oh, please," Clarke smirked and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Give me your worst, I'll win you over."

"Is that right?"

"Absolutely. Not to brag or anything, but," Clarke said, leaned in and dropped into a conspiratorial whisper, "I've been told I'm a pleasure to have in class."

Lexa's stomach flipped with a pleasant twist as she held the mischievous pair of blues staring up at her, unconsciously leaning forward as well and fighting against the stretch of her smile. "Then I guess I look forward to having you--"

They both jumped at the burst of muffled voices, hearing the thudding of footfalls echoing against hallway tile. Lexa shot away from the worktable just as a crowd of students lumbered through the open double doors, hitching a welcoming smile on her face as she struggled to slow the hammering in her chest. 

"Hey! Morning, everybody! Nope. It's afternoon. I-- ya know what, just come in. Take a seat anywhere," she said in a voice she didn't quite recognize as she mentally told herself to get it the fuck to together. 

Cheeks treacherously blazing for no damn reason at all, Lexa made her way up the the front of the lab where her demo station was set up. 

She took her time putting on her apron, carefully looping the strings around her waist and double knotting it for good measure. Smoothed her hands over the covering that protected her favorite oxford button down. 

Chancing a peek around the room as she meticulously folded her sleeves up to her elbows, Lexa watched the students settle themselves into whatever workspace called to them. 

She hoped they were picking well. Felt bad for the gangly kid who had chosen the spot just beneath the air vent. Could practically hear his complaints come firing time when the studio's AC would be cranked full blast.

And then her eyes strayed past him. Flitted back toward her own work area, finding a deep shade of cerulean already staring back. 

Her hands tripped over the knot of her apron even as those eyes immediately looked down. Lexa swallowed at the sudden lurch that rocketed through her chest all the same. 

This was ridiculous.

She was being ridiculous. 

She had a class to run for God's sake.

Clearing her throat loudly, obnoxiously, Lexa shut down whatever the hell all that was with a clap of her hands.

"Everybody settled?" she called out, pointedly looking around and doing a final quick scan. 

Three workstation seats sat empty. Just as there should be.

"Good," Lexa answered herself. "Okay. Welcome to Ceramics I. First off, show of hands, who's excited to set stuff on fire?"

Two hands predictably flew up.

"Hell yeah," she nodded with a bright smile and motioned between them. "Alright, nobody allow those two around the kiln."

//////////

"... and a variety of methods of constructing pieces, not just the throwing wheel. I'm sure at least some of you signed up for this class thinking you would recreate the scene from Ghost, which is understandable, but not the sole method of construction. Yes, I am aware I'm dating myself with that reference, but I would appreciate it if you ignored that and accepted me as I am. Because for now, we're starting with the basics." 

Lexa mindlessly droned through the tail end of her intro speech as she walked through the work tables and handed each student a lump of pre-measured clay. 

"Which brings me to my next point. There's only three tests in this class, everything else is participation and studio practices. Meaning I expect you to show up and work while you're here. I want to see progression of technique. 'A for effort' is the name of the game, folks. You'll probably have to come in during your off hours. The lab does stay unlocked for your convenience, but trust me when I say, you are being watched."

Handing out the final sample, Lexa turned and gave the room a weighted look as she pointed to the very conspicuous security camera hanging in the far corner of the room. 

She still knew at least one person would need to be gently reminded of its presence at some point in the semester. 

"Okay. Now that the threatening portion is done, let's get to the fun stuff." 

Moving back to her makeshift work area, Lexa went through the motions of explaining the properties of the practice clay they were using, how it would differ from the normal clay they'd be using throughout the year. Explained the methods, strengths, and weaknesses of that day's demo, coil pottery, mixed with a few key points of the method's history as well as the particulars to making their creations structurally sound. 

She built her own mini vase up one rung at a time, explaining why slow and steady was the path to victory in ceramics, giving the usual lecture of not trying to bite off more than one could chew with each layer. 

And sighed when she let them loose to try it for themselves, only to immediately watch the majority of them do the exact opposite of what she'd just said.

They'd figure it out eventually. 

//////////////

Clarke frowned as the clay dried and pilled into tiny crumbles beneath her ministrations. 

Wondered why they were even working with this junk to begin with when it barely wanted to hold together or do a single thing she indignantly told it to do in her head. 

She huffed for the third time in five minutes and leaned in closer, using the bendy flat metal thing she didn't know the name of to try and smooth out a particularly stubborn curve yet again.

"You look like you're about to burst a blood vessel."

Stopping at the whisper from the work space beside her, Clarke pulled back and looked to her right. 

A woman slightly older than herself was watching her with naked amusement, chin resting on the ball of her fist and a teasing smile sitting easy on her face. 

"Can I help you?" Clarke asked.

"Looks like you're the one who could use a little help."

"Your observation skills are impressive," Clarke snipped. "What gave me away?"

Brown eyes widened and then narrowed, that smile turning sharper as she watched Clarke silently for another moment.

"I like you," the woman said abruptly and sat up, reaching a hand out. "I'm Raven."

Clarke frowned and quirked a brow. "My hands are filthy."

"Whose aren't? We're fuckin' around with the classy version of dirt."

Looking down at the sight of the woman's equally grey dust and muck smeared hand, she eventually shrugged and returned the handshake with a tight smile. "Clarke."

"Here," Raven said when she released her, "try this."

"... A bottle?"

"The contents of said bottle," Raven sighed and plopped the bottle down on Clarke's side of the table. "Dribble a little water on your fingers, it'll help smooth that curve you're about to cry over. Don't feel bad though, this clay is bullshit and dries out before you can do anything. I swear Lexa uses this stuff first day just to torture the fresh blood."

Already wetting her fingers with the water, Clarke swiped her fingers along the outside bend of clay and smiled when the jagged pieces slicked into something much cleaner looking. 

"Groundbreaking, isn't it?"

"Yeah, thank you," Clarke breathed and repeated the process on another rough spot.

"No problem. What's hilarious is that she'll very much be teaching you exactly how important water can be to the whole process next class."

"Are you serious?"

"Like I said, she uses this crap as torture, I'm convinced of it. She's a sadist."

Clarke quieted a laugh as she glanced between her work and the woman seemingly lost in her own world at the front of the room. Watched hands deftly rolling out and hatching separate coils before winding them together. 

In the time it had taken Clarke to build her up clay barely a few inches off the table, an undulating eight inch pot sat fully formed at the head of the class. 

It was hypnotic seeing the deftness of the professor's hands, how the woman seemed entirely zoned into the process as she worked. Her movements were delicate, but sure, each one deliberate and fluid as she added one coiled rope after another and built the structure up taller with ease. 

"Remember, folks," Lexa called out so suddenly Clarke jumped in her seat, hurriedly looking away before she could be caught gawking like an idiot. "I'm only interested in seeing where you're starting from. Don't worry about impressing anyone, just try and make something that holds together. I want you to get familiar with the feel of the medium."

Clarke went back to her pot, needlessly rewetting her fingers before actually focusing past her fluster, and grabbed a different tool entirely. She picked up her tiny… whatever the hell it was she'd made and used the self-named pokey thing to start etching in a design. 

"So," Clarke said after a few moments, glancing over at the woman beside her again and catching her looking back. "You seem to know the professor?"

Raven snorted out a laugh and kept forming some tiny thing that Clarke couldn't make out. "Yeah, you could say that. I've only taken this class four times."

"Wait, what?" Clarke stopped and looked at her with a frown. "Why would you take an intro class four times?"

"All the fun, none of the worrying about tests," Raven shrugged as she kept working. "My wife's on the faculty here so it costs me basically nothing to take classes, and after this little souvenir," she paused long enough to rap a knuckle against the metal brace that circled her knee, "I don't really worry about working anymore. More fun to be a full time student. Just learn anything I want and make stuff."

Not wanting to pry, Clarke simply gave an appreciative nod. "Nice."

"What about you?" Raven asked as she pulled back and inspected her own creation. "What got you back in the academic saddle at this deliciously ripened age?"

Clarke cracked a smile at her teasing tone. "Definitely not the cheapness of classes," she sighed and went back to her etching. "Divorce."

"Ouch."

"It was a long time coming," she absently waved off the concern. "But between the settlement and some inheritance, here I am. Bright eyed and feelin' old as hell."

"Okay, everybody," Professor Woods' voice cut through Raven's laughter. "I think that's good. Let's call it for today. Just leave your pieces and I'll come around to see where we are."

Clarke paused her movements and looked up, ruefully smiling and shaking her head at the nearly foot tall, perfectly symmetrical coiled creation sitting on the front workstation. 

Show off.

Clarke kept on working through the quiet shuffle around her, hearing clips of muted conversations and small words of encouragement as she determinedly finished up a few final details on her sort-of mini pot. 

A click of a tongue to her right caught her attention. 

"Raven. Really?"

"What?" Clarke's workspace companion shrugged when Clarke glanced over from the corner of her eye. 

"You gotta give me something here. Work with me."

"There's a hole in it! It's a pot! Look, it's an abstract."

"It's a duck."

"Ceci n'est pas une duck!"

Professor Woods rolled her eyes even as she gave a soft pat to Raven's shoulder. "Get out of here, go home." 

"Oui, la Professeure," Raven said as she grabbed her bag and stood with a grunt, giving Clarke a lazy wave on her way out the door. 

"That woman," her professor sighed after Raven was gone as she moved around to stand on Clarke's other side. "Don't let her teach you any bad habits."

"Never," Clarke said as she deliberately slid the contraband water bottle further away from her area.

Professor Woods hummed and looked down at the little creation sitting before them. Clarke felt her cheeks heat under such scrutiny as the woman shuffled in close, lowering down to squat on her heels and inspecting Clarke's piece with sharp, green eyes. 

"We sure about that?"

"Absolutely."

"That's not a coil pot, Clarke."

"Okay, no it's not, but hear me out," Clarke jumped in as the woman lifted her work and started turning it in circles to see all the different sides. "It was a coil pot at first. But then I got bored and I started smoothing down the sides," she explained and mimicked her own movements as those eyes flicked to her during their inspection. "And before I knew it, it was smooth. And then I thought, well let me put a design on it. Obviously. So that's when I took the pokey thing and, and... did all the rest."

Professor Woods was quiet for a long moment as she continued to gingerly turn the piece over and over in her fingers. 

Clarke wrung her hands in her lap and watched until she finally smiled, set it back down, and looked up toward Clarke from her crouched position. 

"Pottery needle."

Clarke let her brow drop into a deep furrow. 

"The pokey thing," her professor said as she pointed to the tool in question. "It's called a pottery needle."

"Ah," Clarke breathed in the small space between them. "Yeah, that sounds more professional."

"I appreciate your initiative, Clarke," Professor Woods said with that lovely click as she pushed back up to her feet. "And I'm certainly seeing that overachiever street cred you were talking about. It's impressive."

"I told you."

"But you will still have to actually make a coil pot for me at some point in the next week."

"Right, of course," Clarke agreed with a guilty nod.

"Do you wanna fire it?"

"What?" Clarke's head flew up from where it had dipped to see full lips still smiling at her, felt her breathing subconsciously deepen at the sweet scent of perfume when her professor leaned closer and rested her elbows on the table as she resumed inspecting the mini pot.

"Would you like to fire this?" Professor Woods asked again as she glanced to her. "I'm not going to be lighting the kiln for a couple weeks yet, but…"

"Oh, God no," Clarke scoffed and fought the ridiculous blush climbing to her cheeks when the woman immediately frowned. "It's nothing worth saving. I was just messing around."

A hand shot out and snatched up the pot before Clarke could smash it. "Hey," Professor Woods chided and held it out of Clarke's destruction zone. "It's your first piece, Clarke. You have to save it."

"I didn't even know what I was doing."

"Which makes it all the more worthy," she insisted. "Usually all I get is a bunch of lopsided vases and tiny floppy bowls that fall apart. This is an honest to God pot. And look, it's so cute."

Clarke watched as her professor held the piece up on the flat of her palm.

"You even put little designs on it. And these swirling pinholes that create negative space? That's wonderful... You should really let me fire this for you."

Clarke held her gaze and chewed her lip in thought, barely held back a smile when the woman playfully held the piece next to her face. She sighed after a long moment and nodded. 

"If you insist--"

"I do," Professor Woods said on the heels of the words that had barely left Clarke's lips as she rose from the table. A shiver ran down Clarke's spine when fingers ghosted across her back, grabbed a pinch of her 'University of Polis' shirt sleeve and playfully tugged as she passed. "Wait here, Ms. Overachiever. Advanced lesson time."

Clarke swiveled on her stool and called after her. "You really don't have to, professor--"

"You can just call me Lexa."

Clarke's mouth clicked shut as she sat up straight at the offhand correction, not quite sure what to do with herself while her professor-- while Lexa, opened the giant metal cabinet that stood next to the doorway and grabbed a few things at random.

"Okay, this is a ware board. There's a bunch of different types, but this one's particle board," Lexa explained as she came back in an excited flurry of movements and set everything down on Clarke's space. "It helps pull moisture out of clay, which is generally what you want when a piece is finished. But since it's gonna be a little bit before we fire this thing, we're gonna want to find a way to keep it from drying out too much too soon so it doesn't crumble. Also, if you decide you wanna change anything beforehand, it's not literally set in stone yet."

Clarke leaned back when Lexa reached across her and snapped up the forgotten water bottle, smiling at her grumbled sigh of 'Thanks, Raven' even as Lexa took a piece of gnarled looking plastic and sprinkled a few droplets on it.

"This is the best way to keep your work, sorry for having to use this word, moist, in between sessions," Lexa picked right back up with a kind of whirlwind enthusiasm that Clarke couldn't tear gaze away from. Slim fingers received their own trickle of water and started caressing the tiny piece in light passes.

Clarke swallowed as she diligently followed their every path.

"You don't want to soak it," Lexa said in a concentrated hush. "Just give it enough moisture to stay alive… And be gentle, so you won't lose all your designs."

"Gentle, got it," Clarke croaked as she watched fingers dip into the pot to wet down the inside walls.

"Think slick and smooth."

"Mhm."

"Take care of the lip, it's fragile."

"Take care of the lips. The lip." 

Clarke licked the dryness from her own lips when Lexa set the piece down in the middle of the ware board and looked over, seeing little flecks of gold in green eyes as Lexa handed over the dampened plastic. "Okay. Now you wrap it up."

"Right," Clarke nodded and took a breath as she draped the plastic over her piece and went to lift--

"No, wait." Hands rested over her own, stopping her before she could pick up the pot. "Leave it on the board. Just wrap it like this." 

Lexa cupped Clarke's palms around the tiny figure beneath the plastic, bunching the excess material in tufts at the base so it sat close and snug. 

"Perfect," Lexa murmured beside her, hands lingering a moment as Clarke turned and let her eyes rove over the side of that unfairly pretty face. 

And then all at once Lexa cleared her throat and yanked back while wiping her hands on her apron. 

"'Kay. All done." 

She smiled and picked up the board and took off across the room before Clarke knew what was even happening. 

"This should be safe for at least a week," Lexa called over her shoulder as she leaned up on her tiptoes and slid the board into the metal cabinet. "But I'll keep an eye on it. You can check it too, see if you decide to make any changes. This top shelf is mine, so I'm gonna hide it here in case anyone gets any funny ideas."

"Funny ideas?" Clarke asked when she finally got her bearings enough to fully turn around. 

Lexa tsked as she finished closing up the cabinet. "Unfortunately, some people are thieves. It's not truly a semester until someone gets one of their projects stolen."

Clarke frowned as she dropped her supplies into the water proof sack she'd packed that morning to wash later. "Well that's bullshit."

"Hence the added security," Lexa nudged a chin up toward the camera as she moved to the sink and rinsed her hands.

They lapsed into silence as Clarke finished packing up and rinsed her own hands, only allowing herself a few glances as Lexa untied her apron and hung it back up. She grappled with what exactly to do with all the unknown words jostling for attention at the back of her thought as she slipped her bag onto her shoulder and couldn't find a single thing else to keep her there.

Which was stupid because she really did need to be going. Had dinner to make and laundry calling her name. 

Had to get out of that room and process the entirety of the last hour.

So Clarke released a sharp sigh and smiled when her professor looked up from where she was scribbling something on a stack of papers. "Okay, well. Thanks for the, uh... advanced lesson."

"It was my pleasure," Lexa grinned, "Ms. Overachiever."

"I told you I would impress you."

"I indeed stand impressed."

"Guess I'll head out then," she said and hitched a thumb over her shoulder. "But I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

"Actually." Lexa held a finger up, stopping Clarke in her tracks as she grabbed the packet she'd been writing on and walked over. "Here."

Taking the outstretched papers, Clarke looked at her in question. "What's this?"

"I was thinking about what you said yesterday. About being worried of falling behind should anything come up. And a colleague gave me the idea to just give you a breakdown of the course material for the semester." 

Clarke looked down and saw a typed bullet pointed list sectioned out and filed by time period for each month and week. 

"It's not a cheat sheet," Lexa continued as Clarke flipped through the few pages. "You'll have to actually study all of that to pass the tests. And it's not an excuse to skip class either, because I cover things not in the textbook. So don't you go getting any funny ideas."

Clarke smiled up at her with a roll of her eyes. "I would never purposely skip your class. It may have only been the one, but I really liked it."

"Oh. Good. That's good to hear," Lexa breathed. Then nodded. Crossed her hands behind her back and took on an air that read as all business. "Still. I'm giving you fair warning, this isn't your free pass. I just thought it might help you to know what sections you have to study for and when, that way you can easily work it around your schedule without having to guess what comes next."

"Thank you," Clarke quietly murmured as she flipped it closed. "That's really thoughtful."

"Of course… And I, um… I put my personal cell number on the back," Lexa added as Clarke carefully slipped the packet into her bag.

Clarke's head whipped up. "Your number?"

"For emergencies," Lexa all but blurted even as she pivoted and walked back to her work space, refusing to look at Clarke as she busied herself with shuffling packing up odds and ends on her desk. "I was thinking, what if, perchance, something came up on a test day and I hadn't looked at my email. I tend to check my phone more frequently, so that would be more practical in a pinch if you needed to reach me to reschedule."

Quiet settled over the room save for the rustle of paper as Clarke stared on and Lexa continued to fuss over nothing. 

"You're giving me your number?"

"For emergencies," the back of Lexa's head nodded. 

Clarke couldn't help but grin at the rather endearing display and gripped her bag strap tighter. "Do you… normally give that out to students?"

"... No."

Another long moment of silence passed.

"Not gonna follow that up with anything?" 

"Nope."

Letting out a laugh, Clarke ran a hand through her hair. "Alright. Well then… Thank you, Lexa," she said with a softness she hoped put the woman at ease. "I really appreciate this. This is… more than I deserve."

"Don't worry about it," Lexa blindly waved behind her. "You're a good student, you deserve to succeed. I'm just glad I can help."

Clarke chewed her lip and nodded to herself, sending an unseen smile at the woman who still refused to look at her as she backed toward the door. "So I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yep."

"Ten-thirty, right?"

"Yep."

"You said you wrote it on the back?"

"Yep."

Clarke shook her head and knocked a knuckle against the doorframe as she stepped out. "Good to know. You have a good night, professor."

She waited and watched Lexa's hands falter, only leaving when she heard a faint, 'Goodnight, Clarke,' in return. 

/////////////////////

[butmakeitgayblog]

Teach Me

Ch 1. Read The Syllabus

____________________

No thirty-nine-year old should try to pull off a backpack. 

That was the decision she came to as she warily eyed the brightly colored array of contraband all stamped with the university's logo. 

But still.

She was feeling festive. And oddly swayed by a sudden rush of school spirit.

Hitching her far more sensible messenger bag securely against her hip, Clarke thumbed through a selection of shirts off to the side, smiling when she found her size in deep royal blue. Startling at the sudden call of her name, she folded it over the arm not weighed down with supplies and made her way back toward the front of the store.

"Here," Clarke called out as she gently nudged her way through the throng of students loitering in the pick-up line. She breathed a flustered sigh as she reached the counter, offering a pleasant smile that went unreturned. "Griffin-Co-- Uh, Griffin, right here."

"You buying those too?" the designated cashier said, waving a lazy finger in the direction of her arms. 

"Please," Clarke smiled again as she dumped the lot out onto the counter. 

Probably no more than nineteen and clearly unimpressed with his current occupation, the cashier fired off the hand-held scanner in a rapid succession of beeps as he rang up her items. 

"Art?"

"Pardon?"

"Art major?" he repeated holding up the small pottery tool-kit he'd just scanned before tossing it back down. 

"Oh," Clarke nodded. "Yes... At least in theory. I'm not exactly sure how this is gonna go."

He merely hummed and accepted the card from her outstretched hand.

"I never really thought I'd be doing this at all to be honest," she mindlessly continued and took her card back. "Going back to school, I mean. I never even thought college was a possibility to begin with. Feel a little ridiculous, actually. But here we are! Life's funny, huh?"

She gave an awkward chuckle as he blankly glanced between her and the items he was currently bagging, Clarke thankfully locating her mute button as he slid her packed up supplies, books, and receipt back across the counter. 

"Have a good one," he said, already turning around and collecting the next ticket order ready for pick-up. "Blake!"

Clarke fumbled with the bag and small stack of books as she hurried to collect herself and get out of the way.

Finally allowing herself a chance to breathe when Clarke slipped out of the bustle of the campus bookstore, she beelined for a nearby bench to steady the wobbly load in her arms and the ragged feel of her nerves.

She hated feeling this way. 

So out of her element. Out of sorts. Her stomach twisting and flipping with a strange kind of excited dread. 

It'd been an impulse more than anything. A late night decision borne from boredom and exactly one too many glasses of wine. When her browsing history had flipped from self-help sites to higher education. Clarke distinctly remembered a flair of giddy indulgence as she'd sat in her plush robe and selected a few starter courses. 

And Finn had been supportive. Enthusiastic even. At least for him. Though Clarke reasoned with herself, that was probably the least he owed her after… well, everything. 

But he'd sounded encouraging when she'd told him, if not entirely taken by surprise as he'd stumbled his way through a few awkward congratulations and promises to help however he could. 

It'd been a scramble, a hail mary of sorts, a rushed three weeks to get everything in place. To tweak schedules and coordinate carpools, to get her daughter, ex-husband, and herself all onto the same page. 

And here she was. Living her dream. 

A dream she'd shelved so long ago that'd come alive again with just a few clicks of her finger. 

So Clarke was more than just a bit annoyed with herself for the steady rumble of nerves. 

"Get it the fuck together, Griffin," Clarke murmured to herself as she slipped the books from arms into her bag. She carefully arranged her sketchbooks and toolkit into their own little compartments before balling up the plastic bag and tossing it into the garbage can beside her.

Checking her watch for the third time in the last half hour, Clarke sucked in a gasp when she realised more time had passed than she'd expected and rose to her feet. 

Steps quick and purposeful, she thanked her past self for having scoped out the campus a week prior, diligently learning where each building her classes were located. With a few bobs and weaves around students milling through the campus's central courtyard, Clarke made her way to the entrance of Trikru Hall West. 'Arts and Humanities' sat etched on a large placard above the entryway as she took the steps two at a time to help burn off the residual jitters. Fishing the crinkled schedule out of her pocket and smoothing out the creases, Clarke checked and double checked that she did indeed remember the right room number.

"1307… 13… 07," Clarke muttered as she passed one doorway after the next before her eyes lit up when she found the one she was looking for. Smiling to herself, she refolded and stuffed the paper back into her pocket as she reached for the door and swung it open.

And found approximately forty faces shifting to stare down at her.

Clarke pulled up short, feeling the blood drain from her face as her gaze darted around the stuffy, silent room. 

"Are you in the right place?"

Clarke turned at the question, feeling her already paltry confidence shrink even further as a piercing set of green eyes looked at her curiously from behind a podium at the front of the room.

"Uh," she heard herself croak before clearing her throat and straightening. "I'm-- Is this Survey of Western Art?"

The confused frown shifted into a gentle smile as the woman motioned Clarke in and continued to pull papers from a briefcase. "Yes, you're in the right spot. Take a seat anywhere, I was just about to start."

Clarke heaved a relieved sigh and slunk toward the first open chair she could see, settling into the front row on the right, third seat from the middle. 

Of course she'd damn near be late on her first day. 

She was sure Madi would enjoy hearing all about that one over dinner. 

"Good morning, everyone."

Clarke glanced up from where she'd been rifling through her bag at the strong voice carrying through the lecture hall. 

"We might get a few more stragglers, but I'm going to go ahead and get started to keep us on schedule."

Another twist of embarrassment churned in Clarke's stomach. 

"I am Professor Woods. I do like 'Professor Woods', though you may call me Lexa. Provided I don't eventually find you all too annoying," the woman grinned from where she leaned her hands on either side of the podium and looked out across the room. Her grin quieted at their silence as she pushed up, grabbing a stack of papers on her way down toward the front row of seats. "Welcome to Art History 204, Survey of Western Art. We will be covering a variety of time periods in this class, how art reflected and often influenced the landscape of the changing world, political climate, religion, and beyond through emphasises on specific styles, and artists. But most importantly, through cornerstone pieces of each era, beginning with the Paleolithic age and working well through the works of the Renaissance. And before anyone asks, no, none of them will be the Mona Lisa. So. Julia Roberts will not be saving you."

Clarke couldn't help her light snort.

Green eyes shot to her at the sound, a pleased softness stealing over her features before she looked away.

"This is your syllabus," Lexa continued as she handed half the stack to the student sitting in the farthest left seat and moved toward the opposite side of the room. "Do not lose it. Besides your textbook, this is your bible for this class. I guarantee, if you have a question, it is more than likely already answered here. But should you have any further questions, feel free to visit me during my office hours. Which you can find… on… the..."

Lexa's voice trailed off on an uptick as she handed over the remaining stack of papers, her eyes expectantly swinging around the room as she motioned beckoningly.

A broken smattering of the word 'syllabus' grumbled back. 

"Ugh, you guys are so smart," Lexa held a hand to her chest and made her way back up to the podium. "I can already tell we're going to have an amazing semester. Now, we have a lot of ground to cover in the next fifteen weeks, so anyone who thought today would be a freebie, kindly keep your curses and wishes for my untimely death to a dull roar while you get ready to take some notes."

Clarke bit her lip to temper her amused smile at the collective groan that followed the professor's words. She sat back in her seat as the lights dimmed and the projection screen lit up, pen and paper already at hand when sharp eyes swept the room, only to land on her once again. 

A small spark of pride blossomed in her chest when full lips tilted up in another pleased smile.

"Good. Then let's begin."

//////////

"... scenes such as this help give us glimpses into the minds of our ancestors. They show us their world, in which surviving was a moment by moment struggle. Death and fighting and loss were the standard, not the exception."

Clarke scribbled down the name of the sprawling cave painting depicting a chaotic hunting scene, making a note of Lexa's words and adding a few more of her own. Her eyes flicked between the tip of her pen and the screen ahead at the sound of a keyboard click as a new image appeared. 

"But then you have this... Older than these cave paintings themselves. First subject. Venus from Hohle Fels. Artist unknown. Six centimeters, carved from mammoth ivory and worn as a talisman. But for now, I want you to think of the name. A depiction of a Venus. An ancient Goddess." Lexa paused, gesturing toward the photo of a seemingly crudely carved figure. "A woman. A mother, and child-bearer… A giver of life."

Staring intently at the figure looming large over the room, Clarke swallowed at the lump that pushed against her throat.

"This shows the complexities humanity is capable of. The truth of what we strive for in ourselves... Look at her. Strong hips to carry children. Full breasts to nourish them. Sturdy backed and shoulders held high, pride emanating from her very core. She is life. Even when faced with death at every turn, this artist… saw beauty and hope within us. We as a people, chose ways to honor and invoke life, beyond the struggle to simply survive."

Clarke blinked as the slide clicked off and the lights slowly brightened, gulping in a lungful of air she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"We'll pick this back up on Wednesday. Read up through chapter two. If you hit anything saying Neolithic, you're just spoiling the plot for yourself," Lexa called above the loud rustle of paper as she closed out her own laptop. "Also, try to familiarize yourself with the syllabus… And sign the sheet by the door on your way out so I can have a final head count."

Clarke hurriedly flipped her notebook shut and moved to stuff it away as the other students flooded toward the exit. Carefully timing herself for when only a few slow movers remained, she stood and slung the loaded down bag over her shoulder and made her way toward the front.

The professor was still sifting through papers and packing up her own wares of the day as Clarke gingerly stepped forward and cleared her throat. 

"Excuse me, Professor."

The distracted face glanced up toward her, stuttering in its movement before the woman stopped what she was doing and righted herself.

"Yes? Did you have a question?" she asked, her voice so much softer, lighter, and more gentle than when she was teaching. Lips pursed in focus as she pulled long, rich brown curls away from her neck to sit over her shoulder.

Clarke swallowed a nervous breath and held out her hand in offering. "I just wanted to introduce myself. And apologize. For being late."

Small laugh lines crimped at the edges of meadow-green eyes that peeked out from behind the tortoiseshell glasses the professor wore as the woman tilted her head in apparent amusement, but accepted the gesture all the same.

"It was only a couple of minutes. Don't worry yourself…"

"Clarke. Clarke Griffin," she filled in at the expectant pause.

"Oh, yes," Professor Woods said as she continued to shake her hand. "I think I remember seeing your name on the enrollment sheet. Although to be honest, I was expecting a--… Well."

Clarke nodded in understanding at the woman's huff of laughter. "A man?"

"Truthfully, yes."

"I get that a lot."

"Must be frustrating."

"More funny than anything at this point. Showing up and seeing people's confusion. Considering I am most certainly not a man."

"You are… most certainly not."

The intensity of green eyes seemed to deepen even as she cleared her throat and blushed and glanced down. And it was at that exact moment, Clarke realized with a humiliated start that she was, in fact, still shaking the poor woman's hand. 

"Yeah," Clarke coughed as she released her professor from her hold and continued. "Right. So, um. Like I was saying, I just wanted to apologize for being late."

Her professor sucked in a quick breath and waved her off. "It's the first day, nothing to worry about. As long as you don't make it a habit, there's no issue."

"It won't. If I can help it. But, that sort of ties into what I wanted to speak with you about," Clarke said, hitching her bag more securely on her shoulder as Professor Woods leaned against the table and gave her undivided attention. "See, the thing is, I have a kid. Well, a teenager. God help me. And I'm not saying this will or won't happen, but something that's a bit… concerning to me is falling behind if I may have to miss a class or two if she gets sick or something. Things pop up all the time and I never know… I just want to be prepared, I guess. Since you said we'd be covering so much so quickly."

Clarke shrugged helplessly as her professor nodded in understanding and slid a final few papers into her briefcase before snapping it closed. "Is this your first semester here?"

"Uh… Beg your pardon?" Clarke blankly asked as she mindlessly followed the woman toward the door. 

"I recognize the jitters," Professor Woods grinned as she led them out into the hallway. "Had them myself on my first day of college. And teaching. I actually think it was worse my first day of teaching, now that I think about it. I was a bit of a mess, I'll admit."

"Oh, God. Is it really that noticeable?" Clarke asked with a sigh as they made their way through the students headed toward their next class. 

The woman lifted an easy shoulder. "I've just been doing this a long time, Mrs. Griffin."

"Miss."

"Excuse me?"

"Miss. Not Missus," Clarke corrected, only half-noticing the way the eyes trained on her flicked down and back up. "But, please, call me Clarke. I'm pretty sure the whole 'Ms. Griffin' thing would just make me feel like I'm at another annual middle school parent-teacher conference."

Professor Woods' laugh was quite lovely Clarke decided in that moment, the low breathy sound of it causing a rushed thrill to shoot through her. She sent her a sheepish smile and allowed herself to be wound to a slow stop outside of a questionable looking elevator marked 'Faculty Use Only'. 

"Fair enough," the woman nodded as she hit the button to go up. "Clarke it is then."

The way she clicked the consonants had Clarke's hand tightening around the strap of her bag. 

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, though her professor simply rested a hand on the doorway to hold it. 

"Listen, Clarke. I really don't want you to worry. I understand what it's like having obligations and people relying on you who you cannot let down. And coming back to school can be rather daunting, even without that added pressure. So, if at any time you feel like there might be a conflict, just get in touch with me and we can figure something out together. I don't want to see any of my students fail, and that very much includes you now. But I can't help fix what I don't know. Alright?"

Clarke breathed a sigh of relief, returning the comforting look as the woman stepped onto the elevator. "Thank you… But. How would I even get in touch with you though? I mean, if I needed to last minute, what's your preferred--"

"I'm confident you'll figure it out."

A confused frown tugged at Clarke's lips at the teasing lilt of her voice as Professor Woods reached forward and hit a button along the wall. She watched the woman straighten and cross her hands behind her back.

"Have a good afternoon, Clarke," she said with a lift of her brow, flashing her a grin as the doors slid closed. "Be sure to read that syllabus."

/////////////////////

Relaxing back into the wall of the poorly lit elevator, Lexa ran a hand down her waist to calm the squirm in her stomach and released a deep exhale.

What the hell was that?

She shook her head and pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose as a ding sounded around her and the doors slid open. 

Nothing. It was nothing.

Stepping out onto the floor, Lexa let her mind wander over the last hour and half as she tread the familiar path toward calm and quiet. 

In theory anyway. 

"This semester is a shit show already."

Lexa rolled her eyes and smiled as a fresh set of footsteps fell in time with her own as she passed the open glass entryway to the campus' student gallery. 

"Sounds promising," Lexa grinned without missing a beat.

"I have already had two undergrads crying in my office because the cut off date for entries to the mid-semester show falls 'too close to break'. What does that even mean?!"

Letting out a quiet laugh at the indignant yelp, Lexa pulled the keys from her jacket as they neared the end of the hallway. "I think it means they're worried they may have to do actual work before spring break."

"A novel idea, I'm sure," Anya sighed as she ran a hand over the top of her sleekly pulled back bun and followed a step behind when the door swung open. 

Lexa ignored the light switch in favor of crossing the entire seven steps worth of space in her office to set down her briefcase and reach for the cord that dangled by the window. "Give them time. They'll get it together, they always do. Just have to work the nerves out and get their heads in the game," Lexa said as she raised the blinds and filled the room with brilliant sunlight. 

"You give these little monsters far too much credit," Anya said in disgust as she set down two plastic containers and plopped herself into the seat off to the side of the desk. 

Lifting a pleased brow, Lexa slid the jacket from her shoulders and hung it on a hook mounted beside the window before taking her own seat and clicking on the tabletop lamp. "If they didn't care, they wouldn't have come to you in the first place."

"They're setting the groundwork for extensions."

"On the first day?"

"Mark me."

"You're so jaded."

"With good reason," Anya said and handed over Lexa's lunch with a plastic fork balanced on top. 

Lexa accepted it with a smile and shake of her head. "How do they even let you on campus?"

"Couldn't tell you." Anya took a moment to pop the lid on her own container, spearing a few veggies and a glazed piece of chicken. "So how was your first brood of the day?"

Lexa hummed as she grabbed two bottled green teas from the mini fridge that only Anya knew existed and handed one over. "Good," she finally decided on as she tucked into her own lunch. "I'm pretty sure I had an extra one bail on the first day. Only counted forty-two heads."

"Or they dropped." Anya shrugged through a mouthful of food. "Less papers to read during exams."

"Educator of the year, everyone," Lexa cheered.

"Yyyyeah, I stopped worrying about that a long time ago. Right around when people in their twenties started calling me 'ma'am'."

Lexa quickly swallowed down her bite as she burst into quiet laughter. Silence fell between them as they continued to eat, though the words had Lexa thinking back to her previous class.

Well.

Her previous interaction. 

Most specifically, her very blue eyed, honeysuckle haired, endearingly nervous looking student.

"Hey," she said after a spell of replaying the small conversation in her head, casually leaning back in her seat as she more shifted her food around than ate it. "Do you happen to know a new student here this semester? At least I'm pretty sure she's new. Clarke Griffin?"

"I make it my sole goal in life to learn as few student's names as possible," Anya said as she speared another bite and scrolled through her phone. 

Of course. 

Lexa rolled her eyes and continued anyway. "Well, she's new here. At least to the program. I'm not sure if she's declared yet, but I think she's in a couple of my classes, so I'm pretty sure she's focusing in art at least."

"Okay? And? She have an attitude problem or something?"

"No, no," Lexa hurriedly waved off the upward flick of her friend's eyes. "Nothing like that. She was actually rather… pleasant. But, jittery… Caught me a bit off guard to be honest."

"How so?"

"Well, first off, with a name like Clarke Griffin, I wasn't exactly expecting a woman our age," Lexa exhaled and sipped her drink, diligently ignoring the keen eyes giving her a once over. "She was a couple minutes late to class and I think that frazzled her... I get the feeling this is her first time back to school in a while. She had that whole 'deer in headlights' look they get."

"Mmm, yeah," Anya sighed with a dreamy look. "I love that look. You can just smell the freshman fear wafting off them."

"Seriously, why do they allow you on campus?"

"Couldn't tell ya."

"Have you ever dealt with having an older student?" Lexa asked as she set down her plastic fork and gave up on her lunch. "I mean like in the past?"

"A couple times," Anya shrugged. "They're generally quiet and keep to themselves. Did have this one guy once in his seventies though who would corner anyone to talk about his grandkids. He was cute, but a handful."

"She has a kid. Clarke does, I mean."

Brown eyes swung up to her again. "Is that right?"

"She mentioned it."

"Mhm... She pretty?"

Yes.

"I don't know, Ahn, she's a student," Lexa dismissed just as quickly and absently checked her watch. 

"So she is pretty."

Extremely. 

"Don't be weird."

"I'm not being weird," Anya sniffed as she stood and moved to throw her empty container in the trash. "I've had plenty of students who I thought were objectively attractive. Granted, most of them had the clockable IQ of a wet nap, but good looks are good looks. And you said yourself she wasn't one of these little… fucking kpop ba--"

"Okay, okay, edit. Edit," Lexa interrupted as her gazed pointedly darted toward the open office door. "Jeez, Ahn."

"Right, well my point stands. She's cute, isn't she?"

God yes.

"No. She's just a student."

Anya merely hummed as she checked the phone that had started buzzing in her hand before scowling and clicking her tongue. "Kill me. Okay I gotta go put this out."

"Hey wait," Lexa called after her when Anya pivoted and made her way out of this office, stopping just enough to lean her head back around the doorframe. "About the older student thing. Do you think I should do something? Like to help get her back into the swing of things?"

"What are you blabbering about?"

"Well I want her to do well." Lexa tossed her hand up at her friend's exasperation. "She seemed so nervous and was kinda freaking out about possibly falling behind or something--"

"Jesus, Lex, it's not rocket science, you run the damn class. Besides, she's a big girl, she can probably handle this just fine. If she starts slacking, crack the whip. If you wanna go the whole 'Good Will Hunting' route then just give her your damn lesson plan."

"Give-- What?" Lexa asked with a dumbfounded frown.

"I'm not saying give her test keys, for Christ's sake," Anya impatiently huffed. "I'm just saying, if you're that worried, help her know what to study in advance so she can work it into her mommy-time schedule or whatever."

Lexa slowly nodded as she thought it over.

"Besides, if she's actually playing on the back nine like you said, I highly doubt she's all that worried about her GPA. She's probably just a bored housewife looking to broaden her dinner table chit chat."

"'Back nine'? What the f-- Get out of my office," Lexa grunted as she fumbled for a paperclip to launch across the room. It hit the opposite wall of the hallway, though satisfyingly bouncing off right where Anya had just disappeared as she yelled after her. "And we're not that old!"

"Hell yeah! You tell 'em Professor Woods," a random student she vaguely remembered from the previous year said with a thumbs-up as they walked past her open door.

Lexa collapsed back into her seat with a defeated sigh.

A shit show of a semester indeed. 

___________

[clexacannonweek]

It's Official!

Clexa Canon Week will start on Friday, September 24th, and closing it up on Thursday, September 30th to commemorate Lexa's return!

The themes stay the same and during the week I'll be posting the specifications if anyone still has doubts, and examples for extra inspiration!

Day 1: Set on Season 1-2

Day 2: Set on Season 3

Day 3: Set on Season 4-5

Day 4: Set on Season 6

Day 5: Set on Season 7

Day 6: Future from any Season

Day 7: Free day on Canon Divergence

If you have any thoughts or questions to contribute to this idea, don’t hesitate to send me an ask or DM me, your feedback is truly appreciated. Please also, if you could share this post and share this account around the fandom so we can reach as many creative minds as we can!

[clexmas25]

Hey everyone!!! Would you guys like me to have clextober/Clexmas this year?

Spooky season is right around the corner! Comment and share if you’d like to participate this year.

[no-fairy-godmotherssq]

Miss this baddie. ⚔️⚙️⚔️♾⚔️

Speed painting for this piece is on my tiktok @nofairygodmothers

[papurrcat]

“You think I’d leave you hanging?! Never.”

-Alycia Debnam-Carey

[perioddramasource]

Wild Nights—Wild Nights!

Were I with thee

Wild Nights should be

Our luxury!

Dickinson (2019-)