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#ok full story is
eeveekitti · 2 months
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shoutout to this video its like the number one reason i sat down, bought, and played rain world
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bizarrelittlemew · 6 months
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calling it right now that season 3 starts like this
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recents · 7 months
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so we all know astarion was named after the minotaur of greek myth, who, despite widely known as the minotaur (“bull of minos”), was named astarion/asterion (“starry one”) by his mother at birth. asterion the minotaur was trapped in a labyrinth and cursed to devour virginal men and women thrown in there as sacrifices.
”The House of Asterion” is a 1947 short story by Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges that retells the story of the minotaur from the minotaur’s point of view. it’s one of his best early short stories and it’s very short, only 3 pages long. you can read it here.
borges is in my top 3 favorite writers of all time, and “The House of Asterion” obviously deserves to be considered on its own merits, so i feel slightly irreverent connecting this text to a recent video game. but i reread this short story today and there was much to think about, there were many more seeds planted in my mind in terms of interpretations of the minotaur myth and how asterion the minotaur relates to the story of astarion the vampire. i think it will for you, too.
anyway. if you don’t click through and read it, please at least read how it ends, remembering, of course, that the speaker is asterion the minotaur:
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:)
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sunshikilo · 13 days
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short comic based on @sopuu 's champion jesse au ^^
romeo is a dick and i can imagine him messing with the prison group when he gets bored of jesse's yammering or something
MY yammering under the cut
so.. i havent used tumblr since i was 12 and forgot how sideblogs work so i made @ssunshikilo to be my art account but forgot about the sideblog thing LOL so im just sharing that cause i dont feeling like reposting the one (1) art thats already there. this is my New application into the mcsm fandom
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starrysharks · 3 months
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"it happens all the time, it happens all the time", a tautology of self-delusion - a one-way love affair that turned me into a weak rabbit
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catmanbowser · 1 year
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Damian got taller (lol) to me he’s like 156-158 cm short king forever :p
His crocs grew tho teehee
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sillyfairygarden · 9 months
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rough cleo and pearlie for an au idea i had 🫶
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art-question-mark · 11 months
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“Bodhi leaned forward in his seat, fully intent on Jyn. "You're Galen's daughter?" he asked.
He looked like he hadn't slept in days. He looked almost as pathetic as she did.
"You know him?" she asked.
What did he think of the stranger in her hologram?
"Yes."”
—Rogue One Novelisation by Alexander Freed
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reallygroovyninja · 6 months
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Indra stood at the head of the long library table, her gaze sweeping across the faces of her faculty, each seated in the historic wooden chairs that had been part of Arkadia High's library for decades. The overhead lights illuminated the rich mahogany of the shelves, filled with books that silently bore witness to countless staff meetings.
Clearing her throat, she began, “I understand Spirit Week might seem like it's primarily for the students, but I'd like to emphasize the importance of faculty participation. Our students look up to you all. Your enthusiasm—or lack thereof—sets a tone for the entire school. I urge each of you, from the PE department to the sciences, from math to art, to dive in wholeheartedly. Let's show the students that school spirit isn't bound by age or subject. Let's make this Spirit Week memorable, not just for them, but for us as well." Indra's voice, authoritative yet warm, resonated with an unmistakable passion, compelling even the most reticent teachers to consider embracing the week's festivities.
Indra adjusted her glasses and glanced at the list in front of her. "Alright, everyone, the student council has made their decisions for this year's Spirit Week themes," she began, trying to infuse her voice with a hint of excitement.
"Monday will be Pajama Day, followed by 60's Day on Tuesday. Wednesday will be College or Pro Sports T-shirt Jersey Day. Thursday is designated for Movie Character Day, and we'll wrap up the week with School Colors Day on Friday." She paused, waiting for the reaction she knew was coming.
A collective groan echoed through the library. Ms. McIntyre, the history teacher, sighed dramatically, "Every year, it's the same thing. You'd think they'd get creative for once." Mr. Pike, from the PE department, chimed in, "I've lost track of how many jerseys I've worn on Wednesdays." Indra chuckled, understanding their sentiments, "We might know what to expect, but remember, for some of our students, this is their first Spirit Week. Let's make it count for them."
Indra saw the palpable sense of deja vu among the teachers and decided to introduce a twist. "However," she began, drawing the room's attention with the slight rise in her voice, "the student council introduced an incentive this year. The student displaying the most spirit throughout the week will be awarded a $500 gift certificate. But, they didn’t forget about you all." She smiled wryly, catching the twinkle in a few teachers' eyes.
"The teacher who goes above and beyond, showcasing the most spirit, will receive a $250 gift certificate. So, let’s see which one of us can give our students a run for their money!" The atmosphere in the room shifted from mild dread to competitive enthusiasm as murmurs of challenge buzzed between colleagues.
As the room settled into a hive of chatter, teachers contemplating how to win the coveted gift certificate, Clarke turned to Lexa, her eyes gleaming with the thrill of a new challenge. "So, are you up for a little competition this year?" she asked, her voice tinged with excitement. "I have to say, a $250 gift certificate could buy a lot of art supplies—or in your case, possibly the fanciest graphing calculator ever made." Clarke's teasing smile met Lexa's composed but amused gaze.
For a moment, the world beyond the two of them seemed to fade into a mere backdrop, the other teachers' voices a distant murmur. In that instant, it wasn't just about the gift certificate or even Spirit Week; it was an unspoken acknowledgment of the camaraderie and gentle rivalry that had always danced between them. Lexa's eyes twinkled as she leaned in, whispering, "Challenge accepted, Clarke. May the most spirited teacher win."
Indra noticed the competitive sparkle that had ignited in her teachers' eyes, satisfied that her announcement had sparked more enthusiasm than she'd first sensed. "Alright, if there are no further questions, let's call it a day and gear up for a memorable Spirit Week next week. Meeting adjourned."
The faculty began to rise, chairs scraping against the wooden floor, but the atmosphere had shifted from routine resignation to spirited speculation. As the teachers filed out of the library, each wore a thoughtful expression, already lost in strategic calculations.
Ms. McIntyre was heard mumbling about recreating a '60s protest sign that would blend history with spirit. Mr. Pike flexed his arms, contemplating how many sports jerseys he could layer on without causing heatstroke. Clarke and Lexa exchanged one last look, their smiles a mutual promise of the spirited battle to come.
There was a newfound spring in everyone's step; if Spirit Week was a game, then this year, it had suddenly become a high-stakes tournament, and each teacher left plotting their moves to outwit, outplay, and outlast.
The evening air was cool when Lexa arrived at Clarke's inviting house, a place soon to be their shared home. Clarke greeted her with a smile, the comfort of their time together contrasting the semi-chaos of the house. Amidst the boxes labeled 'Lexa's Books' and 'Clarke's Art Supplies,' it was clear they were gearing up for a new chapter together.
"So, I've been thinking," Lexa began cautiously, setting down her overnight bag by the entryway, "For Spirit Week, what if I stay at my own apartment? That way, our outfits can be a surprise for each other every day."
Clarke chuckled, her eyes twinkling with both amusement and affection. "You really are taking this challenge seriously, aren't you?"
Lexa nodded, her face a playful blend of seriousness and excitement. "Absolutely. Do we have a deal?" Clarke grinned, captivated by Lexa's enthusiasm. "Deal," she agreed. With a knowing smile, they leaned in and shared a lingering kiss, sealing their playful pact for the week ahead.
The first rays of Monday morning painted the Arkadia High courtyard in a soft, golden light. Students, still groggy from the weekend, shuffled in, casting curious glances around to see which of their peers and teachers had embraced Pajama Day.
Among them, Lexa made her entrance, capturing more than a few amused stares and chuckles. Clad in a cozy, dark-hued pajama set, she confidently strode in, the words "Come to the dark side, we have π" boldly printed across her top.
Her choice of sleepwear, a playful nod to her math specialization, was as much a statement of her personality as it was her commitment to Spirit Week. As students whispered and pointed, it was clear that Lexa had set a spirited tone for the week, and many wondered how the other teachers, especially Clarke, would rise to the challenge.
Just as the school was buzzing over Lexa's clever pajama set, Clarke pulled into the parking lot, igniting a fresh wave of chatter among the students.
She stepped out of her car wearing a rainbow unicorn onesie, complete with a horn on the hood and a colorful tail. Across the chest, in bold, glittering letters, read the phrase "I Don't Believe in Humans." As she walked through the courtyard toward the school building, students couldn't help but stop and stare, their eyes widening in both amusement and admiration.
Clarke's artful approach to Spirit Week was unmistakable, and her whimsical onesie instantly became the talk of the school. She wore the outfit with an air of casual confidence, as if unicorn attire was just another artistic medium for her.
When Clarke and Lexa finally crossed paths, their eyes met, and for a moment, their playful outfits said more than words ever could—each had brought their A-game to Spirit Week, and the competition was on.
During their brief encounter in the teachers' lounge, amidst a sea of equally spirited but far less creative pajamas, Lexa leaned in close to Clarke and spoke softly. "Alright, I'll admit, you may have outdone me for Pajama Day. That unicorn onesie is a work of art—literally."
Clarke grinned triumphantly, enjoying her moment of glory. Lexa's eyes, however, twinkled with a sense of impending triumph. "But just wait until 60's Day. That's where I'll claim victory. I've got something special planned, something that even your artistic mind couldn't conjure."
Clarke looked at Lexa with a mix of curiosity and excitement, wondering just what the math teacher had up her sleeve. "Challenge accepted," Clarke said, her voice tinged with anticipation. "May the best outfit win." And with that, they shared a smile that carried the weight of a friendly rivalry and the deep affection that underlay it all.
On Tuesday's 60's Day, the Arkadia High courtyard came alive with the echoes of a bygone era. Among the students sporting flower crowns and band tees, Clarke's entrance became one of the day's spectacles.
She emerged from her car in a vibrant tie-dye shirt that danced with swirls of purples, blues, and greens, making it look as though a rainbow had melted upon her. Paired with her top were high-waisted flare jeans that accentuated her stature, giving off a carefree yet confident aura. She wore a pair of round, oversized sunglasses, their tinted lenses reflecting the morning sunlight.
Around her neck, she had a peace-sign pendant, and her feet were adorned with brown, fringed sandals. To complete the look, a simple braided headband held back her loose, wavy hair, emphasizing her dedication to the day's theme. As Clarke stepped onto the school grounds, she personified the very spirit of the 60s, her outfit a testament to her innate ability to merge creativity with authenticity.
Not long after Clarke's entrance, another car rolled into the Arkadia High parking lot, and out stepped Lexa, providing the next big reveal of 60's Day.
She was a vision of mod fashion, challenging the bohemian vibes set by her counterpart. Wearing a mini skirt that featured a bold geometric pattern, Lexa paired it with a form-fitting sweater in a contrasting color, amplifying her look's retro edge.
But what really turned heads were her knee-high leather boots, polished to a shine and perfectly complementing her ensemble. As Lexa walked through the school, her boots clicked with each step, emanating an aura of absolute confidence. The math teacher had indeed made good on her promise: her 60's Day outfit was a masterstroke of style and strategy, one that captivated students and faculty alike.
When Clarke caught sight of Lexa in the hallway, clad in her 60's-inspired mini skirt and knee-high boots, her heart skipped more than a beat. Lexa exuded a kind of effortless sensuality that caught Clarke utterly off guard, making it almost impossible to focus on the friendly competition at hand.
While the whole point of this week was to surprise each other with their Spirit Week outfits, for a fleeting moment Clarke regretted their decision to keep their living arrangements separate for the duration.
The thought of not being able to see Lexa first thing in the morning and last thing at night, especially when she looked this captivating, left her with a sense of longing she couldn't easily shake.
The playful rivalry was still there, but it had taken on a new, electric charge that neither of them could ignore. Clarke took a deep breath, steadying her racing heart, knowing that the week had just become more intriguing in ways she hadn't anticipated.
Clarke and Lexa bumped into each other in the deserted hallway, their eyes meeting over the vivid splashes of 60's fashion they each wore. "You look like a real-life Woodstock poster," Lexa commented, visibly impressed.
Clarke chuckled, her eyes drifting over Lexa's form-fitting ensemble. "And you're channeling the Swinging Sixties in London so well, it's hard to remember we're in a high school in 2023." The tension between them was palpable, charged with something more than their usual friendly competitiveness.
Seizing the moment, Clarke glanced around and noticed her art classroom door was ajar, the room empty. "Come here," she said softly, grabbing Lexa's hand and pulling her into the empty space.
As the door closed behind them, Clarke looked into Lexa's eyes, her heart pounding in her chest. "I can't help it; you look amazing," she confessed, before pressing her lips to Lexa's.
For a few suspended seconds, the world outside—the students, Spirit Week, the competition—faded away, leaving only the two of them lost in a kiss that seemed to say what words could not.
When they finally pulled apart, both were slightly breathless but smiling, knowing that regardless of who won Spirit Week, they had something infinitely more valuable.
Clarke felt a magnetic pull towards Lexa that she couldn't resist. Her hand gently touched Lexa's cheek, her eyes meeting those striking green orbs for a moment before leaning in for another kiss.
This time, the kiss was deeper, more intentional, as if they were sealing an unspoken pact between them. However, just as their lips met and they began to lose themselves in the moment, the harsh sound of the school bell rang out, shattering the intimate bubble they had created.
They pulled away, their eyes meeting in a mix of frustration and amusement. "Well, duty calls," Clarke said, her voice tinged with a regretful smile. Lexa nodded, her eyes still locked onto Clarke's. "Yes, it does, but this is far from over." They shared a knowing glance before reluctantly heading out of the classroom, each lost in thought.
Throughout the bustling day at Arkadia High, the school's empty spaces bore silent witness to a series of clandestine moments. At every opportune moment, Clarke, driven by a potent mixture of affection, playful mischief, and perhaps even a dash of Spirit Week fervor, found a way to steer Lexa into a momentarily deserted classroom or a conveniently shadowed supply closet.
The door would barely have time to click shut before Clarke would close the distance between them, capturing Lexa's lips in soft, lingering kisses. These weren't just displays of affection; they were little stolen moments of connection amidst the chaos of the school day.
Every time they emerged, there was a slight flush to their cheeks, their smiles barely suppressed, as if they were privy to a secret the rest of the school could only guess at. Lexa began to anticipate these spontaneous rendezvous, the unpredictability adding a layer of excitement to the rhythm of their day. The spirit of competition and the gentle tug of romance had them both ensnared in a dance only they understood.
Wednesday dawned, bringing with it the anticipated College/Pro sports t-shirt jersey day. Most of the Arkadia High staff approached the theme with predictable choices, donning jerseys and shirts of well-known teams.
However, Clarke wasn't one to be outdone, especially with what many deemed a rather straightforward theme. She arrived donning an ink-splashed jersey that immediately drew attention. The vibrant, artistic streaks on the fabric clashed with the neat logo of the Polis University Commanders, her cherished alma mater.
The jersey was a work of art, turning the concept of a mere sports jersey into a canvas of memories, creativity, and loyalty. It wasn't just a nod to her college days; it was a beautiful blend of her past and present, her love for art merging seamlessly with the pride of her university years.
Whispers filled the hallways as both students and faculty members paused to appreciate her ingenious take on the day's theme. Clarke had once again redefined the norms, making a simple jersey day into a statement of her unique identity.
As the morning bell neared, Lexa made her entrance, and it was nothing short of dramatic. Instead of opting for a traditional jersey or t-shirt, she arrived clad in her Arkadia College fencing outfit, a crisp white ensemble that hugged her form, perfectly tailored to every curve and muscle.
The mesh mask dangled casually from her hand, and her foil was secured in a sleek case strapped to her back. The Arkadia College emblem proudly adorned her chest, reflecting her dedication to the sport during her collegiate years.
The sight was both surprising and mesmerizing, drawing a mix of admiring and puzzled glances from students and colleagues alike. It wasn't just a nod to her alma mater, but also a bold statement about her passion and expertise in a sport that demanded precision, discipline, and elegance.
While Clarke had turned the theme into a canvas of creativity, Lexa showcased the art of mastery and skill, reminding everyone that there was more to her than met the eye. The dynamic duo had once again turned an ordinary theme day into a memorable spectacle.
The moment Clarke caught sight of Lexa in her fencing ensemble, her breath hitched. Even though they'd been together for over a year, Lexa's ability to leave her awestruck never waned. The Arkadia College fencing attire suited her perfectly tailored in a way that accentuated her athletic build, making her appear both elegant and formidable.
Clarke was reminded once again just how multifaceted Lexa was; a mathematician, a fencer, a strategic mind, and an incredibly attractive woman. The sleek lines of the white outfit seemed to make Lexa glow, highlighting her already striking features.
Clarke felt a familiar warmth spreading through her, part pride and part desire, as she realized just how fortunate she was to be in a relationship with someone as amazing as Lexa. In a sea of standard jerseys and college t-shirts, Lexa was a vision, taking Clarke's breath away just as easily as she had the very first time they met.
Finding themselves alone in the break room during a brief lull in the school day, Clarke seized the opportunity to comment on Lexa's striking outfit. Her eyes swept appreciatively over Lexa's fencing attire, finally meeting Lexa's gaze with a look that was equal parts admiration and desire.
"You know, I've seen you in various outfits, but this fencing gear is something else," Clarke murmured, her voice tinged with a sense of awe that went beyond the fabric and embroidery. Lexa caught the look and felt a flutter of warmth, fully aware of the magnetic pull she was exerting at that moment. "I aim to keep you on your toes, Clarke. Besides, this uniform has always made me feel powerful," Lexa replied, locking eyes with Clarke as if challenging her to look away.
Clarke took a step closer, her voice lowering to a whisper, "Well, mission accomplished. You look as powerful as you are captivating." The electricity in the room felt palpable, the air thick with the unspoken yet deeply felt connection between them.
Reading the unspoken invitation in Clarke's eyes, Lexa took a decisive step closer, closing the small distance that separated them in the break room. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do this today," Lexa murmured softly, her voice tinged with a blend of anticipation and assurance.
Before Clarke could reply, Lexa leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that spoke volumes. It was a kiss that melded tenderness with passion, a perfect encapsulation of the intricate dance they'd been performing all week—sometimes playful, sometimes intense, but always filled with unspoken emotion.
The world seemed to narrow down to the space they occupied, the electric charge that had built up between them finding its release. When they finally pulled apart, Lexa looked into Clarke's eyes, both women understanding that no matter the playful competition or the chaos of Spirit Week, their connection remained the most captivating game of all.
On Thursday, the halls of Arkadia High were abuzz with excitement as students and teachers alike showcased their favorite movie characters. But the highlight of the morning was when Lexa walked in, embodying the iconic Princess Leia.
She had opted for Leia's classic white dress, the high-necked, flowing garment accentuating her figure while maintaining an aura of royalty. Her hair was meticulously styled in Leia's signature twin buns on either side of her head, and around her neck hung the silver necklace Leia wore.
The ensemble was completed with knee-high white boots. Students and teachers alike stopped to admire and compliment her choice, recognizing the strong, independent character she represented—a fitting choice for someone like Lexa, who embodied those same qualities in real life.
Clarke, especially, couldn't help but beam with pride and adoration, the sight of Lexa paying homage to one of cinema's most enduring heroines touching a special chord in her heart. The choice was perfect, blending Lexa's grace with the character's iconic strength.
In stark contrast but equally impactful, Clarke showed up as Sarah Connor from the "Terminator" movies. She was dressed in tactical cargo pants, a fitted tank top, and a faux-leather jacket, her look completed with combat boots and a pair of aviator sunglasses perched atop her head.
A toy gun was tucked into a belt holster, adding an extra layer of authenticity to her portrayal. Her biceps, normally hidden under her art-teacher attire, were on full display, and she even managed to rough up her usually clean-cut appearance with a smear of charcoal for makeshift battle grime.
Students and faculty were captivated by her transformation into the relentless, resourceful character, remarking how brilliantly she pulled it off. When Lexa saw her, she was visibly impressed, her eyes scanning Clarke from top to bottom.
Transformed into Sarah Connor, Clarke stood out not just because of her impeccable costume but also because of the raw power she exuded. Her normally gentle blue eyes were steely and determined, her posture radiated strength, and there was a swagger in her step that hinted at a newfound confidence.
Lexa, usually composed and eloquent, found herself without words. The transformation was more than just aesthetic; Clarke embodied the spirit of the fearless warrior she portrayed. Lexa had always known Clarke was strong, both in spirit and character, but seeing her like this — it was as if she was witnessing a side of Clarke she had always known existed but had never seen in full force. It was awe-inspiring, leaving Lexa spellbound and a little breathless, and it took her a few seconds to remember how to speak.
Regaining her composure, Lexa stepped closer to Clarke, her gaze unwavering as she took in every detail of the Sarah Connor ensemble.
"Clarke," Lexa started, her voice low and filled with genuine admiration, "I've always known you to be strong and capable, but this outfit—it amplifies everything about you. It's not just the strength of Sarah Connor that I see, but an undeniable allure. You've managed to embody both power and an alluring charm that's hard to ignore."
Clarke raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips as she caught the hint of desire in Lexa's eyes. "You think I'm sexy, huh?" she teased.
Lexa chuckled, her eyes dancing with unmistakable affection and a hint of desire. "Think? No, Clarke, I don't 'think' you're sexy. I know you're sexy in that outfit," she asserted, letting each word sink in.
"You've captured Sarah Connor's essence so perfectly that it amplifies your own innate strength and allure. It's not just attractive; it's magnetic." Lexa allowed her gaze to drift briefly over Clarke's form once more before locking eyes with her again. "Today, you're not just the art teacher or my incredible girlfriend; you're a force to be reckoned with. And yes, that is incredibly, undeniably sexy."
Clarke's eyes sparkled with a mix of pride and pleasure, her grin stretching wider as she soaked in Lexa's words. It was a moment that encapsulated the balance of their relationship—both strong, both intense, and each finding the other irresistibly captivating.
Reading the mutual admiration in each other's eyes, the electric charge between them reached its natural crescendo. Lexa stepped closer, closing the gap that had felt too wide despite being only a few inches. The air grew thick with anticipation. "May I?" Lexa whispered, almost rhetorically, as Clarke's eyes answered before her lips could.
With that unspoken consent, Lexa gently cradled Clarke's face in her hands, her thumbs caressing her cheeks. Clarke's eyes fluttered closed as Lexa leaned in, both of them feeling as if they were the only people in the world at that moment.
When their lips finally met, it was as if a current ran through them — a tender, yet potent connection that conveyed more than words ever could. The kiss was soft, lingering, a delicate expression of love and a potent reminder of the electric chemistry that they shared. They parted slowly, both slightly breathless, and Clarke couldn't help but think that if this was the power of Spirit Week, then let every week be so spirited.
When Clarke walked through the doors of Arkadia High on Friday morning, she felt the full weight of school spirit envelop her. The hallways were awash in the school's colors, but Clarke had decided to make her own unique statement for School Colors Day.
She wore a tasteful, tailored black pencil skirt that stopped just above the knees, paired with a crimson blouse that seemed to shimmer in the morning light. To complete her outfit, she donned a pair of stylish black ankle boots and a red and black scarf that perfectly captured the day's theme.
As she carried her art supplies to her classroom, she couldn't help but notice the approving glances from both students and faculty. It was clear that she'd nailed the spirit of the day, blending her own artistic flair with Arkadia High's iconic red and black. And as she spotted Lexa down the hall, her heart leapt with excitement, not just for the day ahead but for the simple joy of sharing this spirited week with the woman she loved.
Lexa, always one for understated elegance, chose to embody the spirit of the day in a way that reflected both her professional demeanor and her personal style. She wore a well-tailored black pantsuit that fit her like a glove, accentuating her lean frame.
Underneath the blazer, she opted for a deep red silk blouse that added a splash of vibrant color, contrasting strikingly with her dark attire. To complete the look, she added a narrow red tie, giving her outfit a final touch of school pride without compromising her inherent sophistication. On her feet, she wore black leather loafers that provided both style and comfort. As she made her way through the hallways of Arkadia High, she felt not just the school spirit but also her own unique contribution to it. When her eyes met Clarke's from across the corridor, she knew instantly that they had both succeeded in not just honoring their school's tradition, but in adding a bit of themselves into the mix.
Throughout the day, it seemed as though fate conspired to keep Lexa and Clarke apart. Whether it was meetings, classroom sessions running overtime, students needing additional attention, or even a misplaced set of keys, the pair could never quite find the elusive moment to connect.
Both were keenly aware of the other's presence in the building, feeling it like a magnetic pull, yet every time they seemed poised to intersect, something would come in the way. It was almost comical, and by lunchtime, the shared, almost telepathic glances they shot each other across the courtyard were ones of amused frustration.
The day's bustling activities culminated in the much-awaited pep rally for homecoming, and it was amidst the loud cheers, music, and colorful banners that Lexa and Clarke finally found themselves side by side. Their hands brushed against each other, a shared smile passed between them, and in the midst of the roaring school spirit, they found a quiet, intimate moment, understanding that sometimes, anticipation only sweetened the eventual reunion.
In the school's bustling gymnasium, anticipation hung thick in the air as the student council prepared to announce the Spirit Week winners. When the student winner's name was called out, a burst of cheers erupted from a corner of the gym, accompanied by the jubilant cries of the victor's friends.
However, it was the announcement of the teacher winner that caught most by surprise. The name "Ms. Reyes" echoed through the gym's speakers, causing many students to exchange shocked looks. The computer science teacher, always ensconced in her tech-laden classroom and generally perceived as reserved, was the last person most had expected to win.
As Ms. Reyes rose from her seat, a modest smile on her face, applause filled the gym. Clarke and Lexa glanced at each other in mild surprise, realizing that in their playful competition and mutual admiration, they hadn't noticed Ms. Reyes's quiet participation in Spirit Week. Yet, as they clapped along with the rest, both felt genuine happiness for their colleague, reminding them that sometimes, the quietest participants make the loudest impact.
As the announcement settled in and the applause for Ms. Reyes continued to resonate through the gymnasium, Lexa and Clarke simultaneously turned towards each other, a mixture of disbelief and amusement evident in their eyes.
Clarke, always the more expressive of the two, let out a light chuckle. "Raven Reyes, huh? Should've seen that coming," she remarked with a playful grin.
Lexa shook her head, her lips curving into a smirk. "Of all the people to be outdone by… Raven," she responded, her tone light and teasing.
They both knew Raven was a formidable force in her own right, always surprising everyone with her hidden talents and unwavering spirit. Their eyes locked in mutual mirth, and they both burst into soft laughter.
Neither had anticipated being bested by the computer science teacher, but the revelation only added to the fond memories of Spirit Week.
As the week's events concluded and the halls began to empty, the competition that had once seemed all-consuming was now just a fond memory. Clarke leaned against a locker, her gaze finding Lexa's across the corridor. "I've got to admit," Clarke began with a chuckle, "this was one of the most memorable Spirit Weeks I've ever experienced."
Lexa grinned, walking closer, "Agreed. And as much as I loved our little rivalry," she playfully nudged Clarke, "it's the shared moments and memories that matter the most."
Clarke nodded, "It's not about winning, but about the journey and the fun we had along the way."
The two exchanged a knowing smile, understanding that the true reward wasn't a title or prize, but the strengthened bond they'd forged amidst the playful challenges.
With the week behind them, they looked forward to many more shared experiences, knowing that every moment, competition or not, was an opportunity to grow closer together.
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caramelmochacrow · 6 months
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happy birthday himari!!! :D
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cashmere-caveman · 10 days
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shogun ep. 9 is just bisexual suicide speed chess toxic breakup edition
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dannybobany · 3 months
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Fnaf au where William figures out how to actually resurrect cc and then the aftons just have to live with that— not only is cc undead now but dad is freaking victor Frankenstein !! (like, literally, I imagine William discovered how to harvest remnant from recently deceased corpses rather then killing anyone himself, thus the mci doesn’t happen and Charlie doesn’t die either)
They just have to pretend this is normal and fine
#I imagine it’s especially awful for cc and Micheal I mean#think about how odd that is for cc#most of him are the original parts but many internal organs had to be replaced#the parts that become unusable quicker..#he looks the same on the outside but he knows the difference. he knows something is very different#furthermore he wouldn’t age normally#if he ever wanted to look older he’d have to add new parts.. new bones and skin#and I imagine that’s a disturbing prospect for him so he’d avoid it at all cost#trapped in an unageing body for presumably eternity#and then theirs Micheal#while the whole family grieved Michael’s grief was in tandem with guilt#he killed his brother- it’s his fault this happened#but then he just.. came back.. as if it didn’t happen? how is Micheal supposed to be ok with that#how can you ever reverse the death of someone in your mind when you’ve already lived the grief?#I wonder how this would effect Williams relationship with his family#Clara I’m sure would be upset with him for not telling her#like he was digging up corpses and experimenting with forces beyond human comprehension#and he didn’t think for even a second “maybe I should tell my wife??”#she’s worried she’s not getting the full story- that’s it’s worse then he’s telling her#and I think Williams relationship with his kids would change too#Elizabeth could go either way but maybe she’d side with him#she in her naivety would believe that it’s a good thing#cc is alive! isn’t that what matters? didn’t you miss him? aren’t you happy he’s back?#I’m gonna cap this here#I’ve been going on too long
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goldensunset · 4 months
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i don't really know how to word this but like i feel like i'm gonna forever have to deal with the pain and heartache of one of my very first pokémon games- the first 'normal' pokémon game i've ever played, that i will have lasting nostalgia and love for as a result of it being formative to my introduction into the series- being the one that will forever be looked down upon for bad graphics and technical issues as a result of the game having been rushed
like i honest to goodness want to scream and yell and cry into the void about how this means everything to me and will always be one of my fave games just in general. but how am i gonna do that without someone being like 'the broken overpriced mess? the one that's missing all this stuff from the older games that was great? the thing with all the cringe? that one?' or whatever. and the thing is they aren't wrong for their criticisms either like i know the fact that they rushed this wonderful game hardcore is a massive stain on its reputation and it hurts me too but like i cannot turn off the brain full of love in me and be a mean critic. or even an impartial one. i mean i criticize everything i love don't get me wrong i am constantly running my mouth about what i like and don't like. but at the end of the day i approach all media with an unusually optimistic mindset. if you see me talk a ton about something no matter what i'm saying you can bet it means i love it.
just. aaagh. it's always tough being a new fan of an old series. i'm like too embarrassed to express my opinions bc i feel like they're invalid y'know? i feel so exhausted every time i see something to the effect of like 'oh those poor kids these days having to deal with such bad quality everything what a bad time to be a fan of pokémon wow y'all make me feel so old' well see the thing is i actually am thriving and i love it here. and i'm also an adult myself so i have more critical thinking skills than people who played red when they were like five years old did. and even with the power of critical thinking i manage to be in love with this. join me in marvelling at the beauty of life
#sorry for the massive rant i am full of both love and rage but i feel alone in this world about this particular subject#my other fav complaint is like 'they make it too easy to xyz these days'#to me that reads like 'i suffered so why shouldn't they'#yes we should encourage people to spend 100 hours grinding to do basic story requirements.#to weed out the true gamers from the weaklings. or maybe we could use the spare time in our lives to touch grass#the only easy-fication change in sv i don't like is the ability to access boxes right from the menu#that kinda cheapens the need to strategically organize a team before heading somewhere#i can.. sorta understand being miffed about the remember moves mechanic?#frankly platinum was so stressful with not being able to freely switch without great hassle/cost#it would have been a fair enough compromise to make you pay a bit of lp or something#or do it for free but having to go to like a pokécenter or something#i'll never agree that exp share is bad though sorry#pokémon#ok but about the 'i feel bad for kids these days with these ugly designs/lame 3D models' thing#yeah i have news for you every gen has its ugly/stupid pokémon.#dude look at exeggcute#and some of the oldest spritework is hideous#granted the ds era spritework was beautiful#but i don't see what is so bad about the 3D models of today? they're both nice...#dude play an indie game or something if it's that important to you idk#it will never be the 90s again. it will never be the 00s again. i'm sorry.
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makeoutstopcrime · 1 year
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I love SO MUCH the contrast (and similarities) between Tim’s big gesture at the end of last episode of taking the desk job with no hesitation, and Lucy spending literally the entire episode plotting and researching and planning and PUTTING ON A HAZMAT SUIT TO CLEAN SMITTY’S RV so that Tim can have a job he is excited about. The big gesture. The million little gestures. It’s so them and I am on my ROOF.
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todayisafridaynight · 1 month
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everyday i constantly think of masato's wheelchair and if that's his only one/main one no wonder he's so pissed at everyone
#snap chats#someone pointed this out to me like last year so im stealing it sorry cause I Think Of It Constantly#the handling of masato's disability will forever annoy me esp with how vague it is but esp his chair#one day ill draw masato with an appropriate wheelchair. maybe then he'll be happy for once#in a way i guess it could tie into how restricted or trapped he felt since the type of chair he's shown is more like. a hospital one#and not one youd really use as a regular user- like in that vein it is a bit of storytelling in that he can ONLY go out with help#since hospital chairs are SO much different from home chairs ESPECIALLY in regards to mobility and independence the user has#AND NOT TO MENTION HOW UNCOMFORTABLE THOSE CHAIRS ARE get his ass a proper cushion P L E A S E#like it portrays the idea that its unfathomable for him to go anywhere on his own and so in that vein . Interesting Storytelling#theres a lot of implications going on here if im so honest and again it makes for Really Interesting Story Telling#however i refuse to give rgg credit like that when it comes to disabilities. ... they havent earned that from me yet#see this is why the vagueness of his condition annoys me because he's shown to be independent enough to roll himself to his elevator#and presumably get himself dressed but he cant have a proper chair ?#because ik there are people who have expressed they have conditions where even writing is tiring#so if his condition was in-line with that and it was hard for him to push himself in his chair then i could buy it#obviously the issue lies with his lungs but i just want to know the full extent yk...#to wrap this up tho ive been thinking of character design in rgg and how we dont give credit to it enough#sooooo if i make a second post ten minutes from now thats why cause i keep forgetting to spam my thoughts on here LMAO#ok bye
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