#teacher recruitment candidates

[rightnewshindi]

69000 शिक्षक भर्ती के आरक्षित अभ्यर्थियों ने किया शिक्षा मंत्री के आवास का घेराव, महिला समेत चार की तबियत बिगड़ी

Uttar Pradesh News: 69000 शिक्षक भर्ती में शामिल आरक्षित वर्ग के अभ्यर्थियों ने मंगलवार को लखनऊ में प्रावधिक शिक्षा मंत्री आशीष पटेल के आवास का घेराव किया। अभ्यर्थी हाईकोर्ट लखनऊ के डबल बेंच से दिए गए फैसले का पालन किए जाने मांग को लेकर आशीष पटेल जी के घर के सामने धरने पर बैठे हैं। बड़ी संख्या में पहुंचे अभ्यार्थी यहां जोरदार नारेबाजी कर रहे हैं। मौके पर भारी पुलिस बल तैनात है। इस दौरान चार की…

[nationalistbharat]

Bihar Teacher Recruitment: होली पर नहीं मिली खुशखबरी, बिहार में 3 लाख शिक्षक भर्ती पर कैबिनेट बैठक में चर्चा तक नहीं

  Patna:Bihar Teacher Recruitment: हाल ही आए सीटीईटी के रिजल्ट में पास होने वाले समेत बहाली का इंतजार कर रहे सीटीईटी (CTET), बीटीईटी (BTET) और एसटीईटी (STET) अभ्यर्थियों को बड़ा तोहफा मिलने की उम्मीद थी। बिहार कैबिनेट की बैठक में सोमवार को शिक्षक बहाली की नई नियमावली पर मुहर लगने की उम्मीद थी लेकिन लेकिन बिहार सरकार की कैबिनेट बैठक में तीन शिक्षकों की बहाली पर कोई चर्चा नहीं हुई.news18 के अनुसार…

[dyaz-stories]

casual (1) || gojo satoru x reader

chapter 1: i like the way you kiss me

synopsis: Getting recruited for a double position as a teacher for Jujutsu High in Tokyo and a strategist, tasked with assigning missions to sorcerers in the region is the perfect situation for you. It pays well, it's well regarded, and it's as safe as possible — by sorcerer standards, anyway.

There is one problem though, and his name is Gojo Satoru. The one who's supposed to collaborate with you and answer to you.

The one you can't keep your hands off...

word count: 9.5k

genre: 18+, friends with benefits to lovers, coworkers to lovers, canon divergence, smut, emotional slow burn but they fuck like rabbits

warnings/tags (chapter): fem!reader (she/her pronouns, reader is afab), takes place ~5 years before jjk0, teacher!reader, sorcerer!reader, canon-typical violence, mild angst, smut (semi-public sex, fingering [fem receiving], vaginal sex, sorta dom!gojo, corruption kink if you squint), mentioned slut shaming (not the sexy kind), gojo satoru is a little shit

A/N: This is quite the Behemoth of a first chapter, I'm sorry to say. I love really long chapters, but I can only hope you all do too and this isn't too intimidating! This is a fic I've had in mind for ages and finally got around to start an outline for and actually write it. There are actually a couple of drabbles here and there on my blog for this couple already, happening at various points of their relationship.

I really hope you will enjoy this first chapter!

‘Make use of Satoru Gojo however you see fit.’

Such are the first words spoken to you by the higher-ups, at the end of an exhausting recruitment process. You nod sharply at the instruction.

“Duly noted.”

Truth be told, you don’t see why they need to specify it. You had assumed that went without saying from the very beginning.

The job offer had, at first glance, been for a strategist who would work directly under the higher-ups for the region of Tokyo. Devising teams, advising the council, and assigning missions were supposed to be the main tasks you would have to fulfill.

‘Supposed’ because, when you were one of only three candidates left, the higher-ups had revealed that there was, in fact, a second role you would be expected to perform. One that you had not imagined would be available for decades.

A new teaching position at the Tokyo Jujutsu High School was opening up, though you couldn’t understand why for the life of you. You had no connection to the establishment yourself, having left Japan as a child and trained abroad your whole life, never returning for more than a couple of months at a time, yet you knew, as did the entirety of the sorcerer world, that Satoru Gojo had been appointed there less than a year before. Well, rumor had it that he had appointed himself, and you had to wonder if that was why they were keen to have a more… traditional teacher by his side, since firing him was an option.

In that case, your lack of ties to Satoru Gojo, Masamichi Yaga and to the Jujutsu Headquarters could explain why your name ended up being the last one on the ballot. You were the best placed to be an independent monitor.

The distorted voice keeps going, bringing you back to the present.

“Unless stated otherwise, always send him to battle first.”

You school your face so you do not let any emotion appear, though the statement surprises you. You have to assume that they don’t mean for any mission you receive, because that would be catastrophically ineffective. Then again, sending him on Grade 1 missions, if he is available, makes some sense.

“Report to us if you encounter difficulties with him,” the voice adds before falling silent without elaborating.

You understand, from the finality of their tone, that you have been dismissed, and bow your head, your movements polite and sober.

“Thank you for the trust you are placing in me. I will not disappoint you.”

“We know you won’t,” another sepulchral voice answers.

In the dark, candle-lit room, it sounds sinister enough to chill you to the bone. You wait just a second longer, in case something needs to be added, before turning on your heels and walking away. No one calls you back, and you’re more relieved about leaving the room than you would like to admit.

Outside, the summer sun is high and bright. You tilt your head backwards and close your eyes to let its rays warm your face. It will take a while before the cold instilled in you in that meeting room dissipates.

You’re expected in Jujutsu Tech by the end of August. Being a teacher there is as close to the ideal position as it gets, for a sorcerer. The pay is excellent, the risks minimal, and it commends great respect from the society at large. You have no doubt that, had the offer been for that position in the first place, numerous sorcerers far more qualified for teaching than you are would have thrown their hats in the ring. You wouldn’t have made it past the first interview.

You got lucky. Just this once, you’re going in the right direction.

You inhale deeply. For the first time in a long time, you no longer envision your life as an endless successions of missions, countries, and houses that never become homes.

For the first time in the long time, you think you have a future.

There is a spring in your step when you make your way down the stairs, away from this freezing place and the ghouls that haunt it.

Behind you, the Headquarters; ahead, Jujutsu Tech.

Masamichi Yaga is a cautious man. His handshake is warm and firm when he greets you, and though his voice is calm and steady as he guides you through the hallways of Jujutsu Tech, he remains evasive. He provides all the information you might need, answers any question you have when you ask them without missing a beat, and yet you can tell he is guarded, keeping you at arm’s length.

You cannot determine why that is with certainty, though you have a handful of hypotheses. It could just be that he isn’t used to the presence of strangers. Dealing with a total stranger is a rarity within sorcerer society, even more so in Japan. You doubt that he would know anyone who could talk about you, let alone vouch for you. You understand why that would make you a suspicious character.

Another option is that you were forced onto him as a member of his staff by the higher-ups, though you haven’t heard anything about that. With you being a complete outsider, he would not have any valid reason to outright reject your presence, not when his only teacher is frequently gone for days at a time, but that would not mean that he’d be pleased with it — or view you as trustworthy, for that matter.

The third possibility, of course, is that he just finds you off-putting.

‘Cold’, that’s how you are often described by the people around you. You don’t do it intentionally, but you also cannot pinpoint what it is that you do ‘wrong’. Something about your tone, your expressions, or lack thereof, your cold eyes, the way your mouth naturally curves downwards.

That and, of course, the trail of bad omens that you bring with you everywhere you go.

These don’t tend to be active problems when it comes to sorcerers. With normal humans, now, it’s a different story. Oh, there are exceptions, who find that this all makes you intriguing, but it typically makes it hard to build actual connections with other people. You wouldn’t normally care, but in a situation where you have to collaborate with others, you could see that becoming an issue.

You had seen that coming, of course — it wasn’t like it was new information to you. As a result, you had made sure to be on your very best behavior from the moment you’d stepped foot within Jujutsu Tech grounds. You had nodded with interest, you had reminded yourself to smile, you had asked all the right questions, and yet you could feel that you had not once managed to turn yourself into a likeable person.

Ah, well. Not being likeable would not stop you from doing your job right.

“I’ll introduce you to the rest of teaching staff,” Yaga announces, his voice deep, as he reaches a new door. His hand is hovering over the doorknob when he stills, turning to look at you. “Are you ready for this just now? They were both students here, but I assume this can all be overwhelming for a newbie.”

That is a kind sentiment.

“I’m okay.” Then, because answering in monosyllables is not what likeable people are supposed to do, you add: “I read the files available to familiarize myself with the school grounds before coming here.”

His eyebrows jump up behind his glasses, but it’s followed by a hearty chuckle.

“You’ve come prepared.” He nods, appreciative. “Good. It will be nice to have someone who takes their job seriously around here.”

You don’t have the time to question the sentence before he opens the door.

The room is small and reeks of cigarette smoke. In the middle of it, a desk, and behind it, sprawled on an elegant black chair, a white-haired man that you recognize at first glance. You let your eyes slide over him. You wouldn’t want to look too, um, curious, just yet.

The brown-haired woman with the long white coat who is perched on a window sill, doing her very best to look inconspicuous, is the one responsible for the smell. You identify her as Shoko Ieiri, school doctor and reverse cursed technique prodigy. Next to you, Yaga sighs.

“Shoko,” he protests with a paternal disapproval, “I thought you’d quit smoking?”

“I did,” she answers, staring at him, her eyes dark and tired, “and then I had to regrow a lung. Do you have any idea how much of a pain it is to regrow internal organs?”

A light laugh comes from the man in the middle of the room, and you consider that this gives you permission to look at him without coming off like you’re gawking.

He has his feet propped up on the desk, and he’s using them to push himself backwards in a precarious balance. White hair spills on the dark leather, long arms hang on both sides of the chair, and he hasn’t bothered to so much as glance in your direction so far — or at least, you don’t think he has, because white bandages are wrapped around his head, covering his eyes.

Even without being able to spot their signature blue, you know who he is. There isn’t one sorcerer in Japan, nor in the whole world, who doesn’t know his name.

Satoru Gojo, in the flesh.

“Maybe if you hadn’t cheated your way through medical school, it would be easier, don’t ya think?” he asks Ieiri with fond familiarity.

“Don’t—” Yaga takes two steps into the room, kicks the legs from underneath the chair. “—sit at my desk, Satoru.”

Effortlessly, Gojo jumps off the chair before it hits the floor and lands on his feet, facing Yaga. He is just as tall as the Principal, and from the wide grin on his face, it’s obvious that he is thrilled to have gotten a rise out of him.

“Then get me my own office already, what are you waiting for?”

“We’ll see which one of you gets an office first,” Yaga sniffs, and it doesn’t sound like Gojo is at the top of his list. “First, there is someone you need to meet.”

Ieiri has been observing you since you’ve walked into the room, not looking away when you had met her eyes. Yaga’s words have Gojo finally directing his attention to you, though, and something in the room shifts. You can’t see them, yet you know his eyes are on you, dissecting you and your cursed energy, collecting every possible bit of information on you. He walks past Yaga, burying his hands in his pockets as he approaches you. He has an easy smile placated on his lips, but you know when you’re being judged.

Behind him, both Ieiri and Yaga are still, tense. Yaga’s jaw is set, and Ieiri fiddles with a pack of cigarettes in her pocket, clearly itching for a new one. Ah, so this is the real test.

You don’t back off, staying rooted in your spot. He towers over you easily, and you have to tilt your head back just to look at him. You’d heard he was a handsome man, but you hadn’t expected it to be so obvious, even with the bandages on. He studies you, sharp jaw clenching, before the dazzling smile returns.

“Right! You’re the substitute teacher, aren’t you?”

His voice is light and airy, the previous tension completely absent from it. You blink.

“She will be teaching instead of you when you’re away on missions,” Yaga intervenes, “but that doesn’t make her a substitute. C’mon, Satoru, we’ve had this conversation already.”

On that last sentence, his voice turns into a threatening rumble.

“Sure, sure,” Gojo dismisses him without looking back, “and you’re the one who will be giving me missions as well, right?”

He keeps his tone cheerful, makes it sound like he’s just trying to have a conversation, but there is an edge in his voice, a bite. You cannot tell what he is trying to achieve with the question, though, or why he is being hostile, so you choose not to engage.

“Indeed,” you answer, bowing your head politely. “It is an honor to be meeting you all.” You make quick work of giving your name and briefly mentioning that you hadn’t grown up in Japan.

You’re met with silence, Gojo’s lips pressed together as he tries to read you. You do your very best not to give him anything to sink his teeth into.

“Your family’s known for their precognition, aren’t they?” Ieiri asks from the other side of the room.

“Foresight, yes”, you reply. Your answer is rehearsed, polished. Your family has somewhat of a reputation within the sorcerer world, but fortune tellers are a dime a dozen, even among non-sorcerers, and the results vary greatly — it’s not an ability that inspires trust, even for a legitimate sorcerer like you. You don’t wish to reveal too much of yourself just yet. “I look forward to working with you.”

A smile finally forms on her lips.

“Well, don’t take this the wrong way, but I hope I won’t be seeing too much of you. Would be a shame if I had to patch you up. If you want to go out drinking though, just let me know. I know all the best bars in the city!”

“She does, and she’s banned from half of them,” Gojo chimes in. Now that his focus is back on her, his tone is softer; teasing, still, but no longer harsh. “She could use an actual designated driver instead of exploiting her kouhais though, don’t you think, Shoko?”

She laughs at that, sincerely, her eyes creasing.

“Fuck you, Gojo,” she answers fondly.

“I apologize for these two,” Yaga says, wincing at the coarse language. “We’re very happy to have you here. I’m sure it will do the kids some good, having someone serious to take after.”

“Hurtful,” Gojo protests, pouting. “They’re good kids,” he adds, directing his attention back to you. He sounds proud now, no trace of his earlier defiance left. “They’ll be great soon. They just need a little push to get there.”

At that, you nod.

“Of course. I’ll do my very best to help them on that path.”

There is a second, between the moment when you finish speaking and the moment when a wide smile splits his face. In that second, his lips part, and you feel his eyes plunge into you, digging into the very core of your being. He doesn’t look pleased. No, he is sizing you up, and you doubt you measure up to his expectations as well as you should. You’re the only one facing him, though, and when he smiles, just a little too late, it all vanishes like it never happened.

“Good to hear! As long as that’s the case, I’m sure everything will go smoothly.”

It’s said differently, but it’s as threatening as the higher-ups’ last words to you. Still, behind Gojo, Yaga heaves a relieved sigh and exchanges a look with Ieiri that tells you just how worried he’d been about your arrival. To him, it looks like the situation is resolved.

“Why don’t we all go and get a drink together to welcome you properly, if we’re done here?” he asks, walking over and slapping Gojo in the back.

“Sounds good to me,” Ieiri hums.

“As long as we go somewhere with good desserts, I’m in,” Gojo declares, intertwining his fingers at the back  his head.

“You better be, Satoru,” Yaga grumbles, “you’re paying.”

“Not sure the Gojo clan has enough money for your appetite,” he sighs dramatically, “but I mean, I can try.” Then, eyeing you, “You coming or what?”

“Of course,” you say, swallowing around the unexpected knot in your throat. “Thank you for having me.”

You follow them cautiously, keeping quiet as the banter continues, hands held behind your back, observing. You had not expected to feel welcome here. You could have done without Gojo’s strange hostility, but with your track record, you had expected far worse.

“Let me know if Satoru makes your life harder, alright? I’ll talk some sense into him,” Ieiri tells you, placing a cigarette between her lips.

“And I’ll beat it into him if I have to,” Yaga adds, snatching it from Ieiri’s mouth and crumpling it between his fingers.

“I’d love to see you try,” Gojo grins.

“Noted,” you answer, “but I’m sure everything will be fine.”

This last part is a lie. Even as he’s joking around with everyone, you know he is still observing you, courtesy of the Six Eyes, watching your every move, waiting to find a fault somewhere so he can figure out what to do with you. You can’t blame him. You will be the one sending him into action, after all, even if the higher-ups would review missions assigned to grade 1 sorcerers and special grade sorcerers. Of course he’d need some time to figure out whether or not you’re trustworthy.

Not that his opinion on the subject matters to you. You’re not the type of person who needs other to like you. You don’t even need him to trust you. All he has to do is let you do your job.

Everything else is futile.

It is no surprise that the first few weeks at your job are slow. The end of summer and the beginning of fall are always quiet periods for sorcerers, and as a result, you don’t have many missions to hand out just yet. The few, low-level ones available in Tokyo are systematically claimed by Gojo before you can look into them, as training for his students.

“Kids gotta learn somehow, right?” he tells you with a grin the first time it happens.

He’s just waltzed into your classroom and he’s leaning over the desk, elbow conveniently resting on the mission files. You try not to think about how brazenly handsome he is right now, even when he is openly provoking you. You stare at his bandages, right where his eyes must be. He may be smiling at you, but there is no sincerity behind it, no joy, and that wasn’t really a question.

You shrug.

“Alright.”

The smile falters.

“Yeah? That’s alright with you?”

“Certainly. If you think these are good exercises for them, and if you plan on being there to supervise them, I don’t see any issue with it. Just return the files if there are any they can’t clear, and I’ll transfer them to the appropriate person.”

He tilts his head. Watching. Assessing.

“You should join us!” he exclaims cheerfully, smile back in its place, clapping his hands together. “The more, the merrier, isn’t that right?”

Oookay. He is testing you. The infuriating part of that is, you have no idea what he is testing you for, what he wants you to display — or fail to display. Trying to see if you’re good enough of a teacher? You have nothing to prove here, certainly not to someone who has been on the job for such a short time. Then again, you don’t see any harm in humoring him.

“No problem. Just let me know when you intend to take care of them, and I’ll be there.”

His smile widens, but you’re not sure if it means you’ve succeeded or failed his test.

“Good,” he hums. “I’ll be taking that, then.”

In one swift movement, he retrieves the files from your desk, and he walks away with them before you can say anything.

You roll your eyes — this whole song and dance are so unnecessary — but you don’t see any reason to stop him, so you just watch him leave. You catch him stopping in the doorway, turning back to look at you. The smile is still dancing on his face, all edge and teeth.

“You’re not what I expected.”

You stare at him just a moment longer, brow furrowing, before he vanishes and you’re left with nothing to look at.

‘Not what he expected’. You turn the sentence over in your mind a couple of times, trying to conjure up an image, a personality that would fit better for the role you’re supposed to play, but nothing comes up. You have two roles: teaching the future generation of sorcerers, and assigning missions. If doing one task can facilitate the other, there is no reason not to do it — and you find it even harder to comprehend why he wouldn’t have expected you to do just that.

You shake your head, willing his words out of your mind. You’ve never felt the need to meet anyone’s expectations, so why should you start now?

Taking kids to a cemetery for a mission seems in poor taste, but that’s not what you tell Gojo when he announces it as his first choice.

“The mission is for a number of grade four curses and a couple grade three,” you state instead, “but considering the spot, it’s likely more powerful ones went unnoticed. Are you sure that’s appropriate for first-years?”

“Well,” he answers, hands casually in his pockets, towering over you with all his height, “it will be good to see how adaptable they are and their abilities in the face of danger. Plus, they’ll have two guardian angels looking after them, won’t they?”

There’s that toothy smile again.

You still don’t know what it means.

“As long as you’re here, it will be fine, I guess” is what you end up answering him with a shrug.

This time, he doesn’t say anything as he leaves, doesn’t stop to look at you.

You suspect that you said exactly what he was expecting from you.

Contrary to popular belief, cemeteries don’t typically harbor powerful curses. The smaller ones are numerous, born out of loss and grief, but the bodies of non-sorcerers don’t take the pain they endured with them in the grave. They leave it all over their houses, leaking through the walls and ceilings, seeping through the cracks in the floor, cursing their loved ones.

Cemeteries remain clean.

The exception to that rule is a notable one. In any place where cursed energy accumulates for long enough, there is a risk for it to congregate to the point where strong curses can emerge. This slow growth means they learn to better hide themselves, and it makes them harder to spot and eliminate. In an ideal world, there would be a sorcerer expedition every other decade to ensure nothing big can develop, but sorcerer numbers being what they are, that is impossible to ensure. There is also a high likelihood that it would be useless anyway, a waste of time and resources, far too much firepower for the bunch of fly heads sorcerers would find.

Still, you keep an eye on the three, baby-faced first years, and chew on the inside of your cheek as they start to make their way through the alleys.

You don’t like this.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” Gojo says lightly, next to you. “You’re a grade one sorcerer, aren’t you? There’s nothing more powerful than that here. I’d know it if there was.”

“My evaluation took place in Europe. I don’t know if I would have ranked that high, had I taken it here.”

“Aw, c’mon, if even you think you’re that weak, who’s going to believe you’re strong?”

The sentence surprises a chuckle out of you. A grade two sorcerer is nothing to turn your nose at, but you can’t say you’re shocked that the Satoru Gojo would equate that status to weakness. He is so far off the scale that he would break it altogether if it wasn’t for the convenient, murky ‘special grade’ title.

You look at him, find him already turned in your direction. His lips are parted in surprise. You don’t realize it, but you have somehow managed the feat of getting Gojo’s undivided attention. The Six Eyes are focused on you, dissecting you, taking you in. This is— new. People are predictable. It’s not always a bad thing, though it gets a little boring. You— you keep catching him off guard while doing things that seem completely natural to you.

For once, you’re the one who is smiling, and he’s stunned into silence.

“It doesn’t matter to me, whether or not people think I’m strong. All I care about is—”

Teeth reflected in a pupil. Muscles like lead. A hand raised in defense. Flesh that turns into mist, there one second, gone the next. Clicks like a laugh, coming from behind. ‘Morino Iori — 1954-2010’, splattered with blood. A curse with its head thrown back, an arm coming out of its open mouth, disappearing when it swallows. Tears dripping down from the chin to the ground, barely diluting the puddle of blood that has formed there.

The rest of your sentence is lost when you turn around and take off running.

There is a string of cursed energy pulling you in the right direction, one that found its way to you, one that the cursed technique engraved in your brain knew how to decode. You’re old enough not to question it, not to struggle with the vision, and following it comes as a second nature. Just as you get there, you see Sota rounding the corner slowly, looking around, squinting, searching for something he isn’t finding. Your fingers close around the weapon at your waist, withholding your cursed energy — for now.

To a non-sorcerer, you would appear to be holding nothing but a stick. A sorcerer would know it’s a cursed weapon, though most would not be able to figure out its use.

At least, not until the curse emerges from the fog, only two steps behind Sota. In a flash, you let cursed energy irrigate your weapon, and a blade of sheer energy appears. The stick is now a scythe.

It’s in poor taste, in a cemetery, but you don’t linger on that.

You’re between the boy and the curse before he can turn around. The curse’s abilities must allow it to hide its presence, would allow it to disappear back into nothingness a mere moment after the kill, but you don’t give it the opportunity to do that. The scythe cuts through it like butter, splitting it in two. The two halves haven’t yet hit the ground that you’ve already lowered your weapon, emptying it from cursed energy as soon as you’re done.

“Are you okay?” you ask Sota, turning around to face him as you anchor it back to your waist.

“Um,” he says. He doesn’t look scared, just mildly surprised. “Yes. I’m fine.”

“What happened to seeing his abilities in the face of danger?”

You bite your lip, glancing at Gojo. He is standing atop a headstone, balancing without any struggle and watching the two of you with unmistakable amusement.

“He freezes in the face of danger,” you answer.

Sota’s eyes go wide, and he turns away from you, shaking his head. He isn’t doing it for you, though, but for Gojo.

“That’s not true! I’ve exorcised curses before, you’ve seen me do it!”

He’s desperate to prove himself to his teacher, and something sinks within you. You don’t need a vision to tell you what will happen next.

“The kid’s got a point,” Gojo lets you know. “That precognition thing of yours, how accurate is it?”

There was a time when those words would have sent you reeling back. Even now, when you’re expecting them, you feel the blood withdrawing from your face as he speaks them. But you swallow, school your features. You know better now. Fighting now will only delay the inevitable. Gojo was standing next to you anyway. With the Six Eyes, he must know for certain that you hadn’t activated any sort of cursed technique when you took off running. That alone would be enough to make him suspicious, if he didn’t already doubt you.

Cassandra’s Bargain. Tell the truth, and save only those who believe you.

Unlike others, explaining the workings of your cursed technique doesn’t make it more effective — it makes it useless. If you try to tip the scale in your favor now, you will all pay a high price for it later.

You know what Gojo is implying, about your accuracy. Most people who have foresight see a number of futures. If he suspects you saw one in which Sota died, your actions must make sense to him.

“Enough to keep me safe,” you answer, tight-lipped.

“That’s what I thought. Let’s give the kid a fighting chance from now, what d’ya say?”

That’s not how it works, but it doesn’t matter. At least Sota gets to keep his arm — until next time.

What a waste.

“Of course,” you say with a nod.

You would do it again in a heartbeat if you had to, but you no longer feel threads of cursed energy, threads of fate, pulling you in one direction or the other. Oh, they’re all around you, and you’d know much more if you activated your cursed technique, but you know how it functions. That had to be the worst that could happen. Things should be fine now.

“Start running Sota, you’ve got some catching up to do!”

“Yes, Mr. Gojo, sir!” the kid replies, all but saluting. “I won’t disappoint you.”

Gojo’s laugh at that, as the kid takes off sprinting, couldn’t be more genuine.

You lean against the pristine Morino Iori headstone — it’s disrespectful, and you formulate a silent apology, but all you can do is hope they won’t mind. You’re exhausted, and yet the tension is keeping your body in hypervigilance, refusing to go away.

Gojo approaches you, hands in his pockets. The ghost of his usual smile is dancing on his lips. For once, though, it doesn’t feel mean-spirited.

“We have to save them if they need us,” he says, voice surprisingly soft, “but it’s as least as important that we teach them how to fend for themselves.

“I don’t disagree with that.”

This kind of reasoning just isn’t worth losing an arm over.

Gojo steps closer, leaning towards you, so close his nose is almost touching yours. You suck in a quick breath through your mouth. From up close, it’s much harder to ignore how handsome he is, even without seeing his eyes. You blame your accelerating heart rate on the fact that you’re in a high-stress kind of and you’re particularly pent-up at the moment. If your skin tingles when you feel his breath against it, it’s because of the cold. Must be. Whatever it is, you don’t let it show, and you hate that you’re finding it harder to breathe.

“You’re not what I expected.”

He’s said it before, but his voice is lower now, deeper, vibrating through your body, and something that you recognize all too well twists, deep in your abdomen.

Desire.

You don’t answer. You didn’t know what to say the first time, and you sure as fuck have no clue now — don’t know what he means, don’t know what you’ve done that you weren’t supposed to, don’t know if the interest in his voice betrays the same feelings rushing through you right now. So you glare at him until he laughs, light and airy, and takes a step back.

“If you need me, I’ll be on top of the temple, watching the kids.”

You wait for him to disappear between the tombs, keeping yourself still, too still, probably, to be inconspicuous, and it’s only once you’re sure he’s gone that you let yourself exhale very, very slowly. The urge to laugh at yourself bubbles inside you, because what the fuck is wrong with you? It’s not the right time, not the right place, and not even remotely the right person.

You’re fully aware of all of that, know it in the deepest parts of your soul, and yet your eyes still trail towards the temple. You could imagine that you’re seeing Gojo’s silhouette there, if you didn’t know better.

Except you do. You do.

When you look away, you know full well you’re doing it too pointedly.

You don’t get a chance to involve yourself in the Kyoto Goodwill Event. With the beginning of fall, files are starting to accumulate. Since you’re still getting your bearings in Tokyo and familiarizing yourself with the sorcerers you can send on missions, that is what you dedicate yourself to.

Or, well, that’s what you’re told.

You know that you’re more than capable of doing several things at once without botching any of them. Masamichi Yaga and Satoru Gojo are the ones who disagree. You’re called into Yaga’s office, and Gojo is already there, leaning against the wall behind him. For once, he isn’t wearing the bandages, but rectangular sunglasses. Even from behind them, you see the faint glow of his eyes, and it takes a lot — a lot more than it should — not to stare.

“The students taking part in this year’s event will be exclusively second and third-years. Satoru knows them well.”

“Yeah, and they’ve been training for a that for a while,” Gojo says without missing a beat. Where Yaga is stern and serious, his voice is relaxed and pleasant, lightening the mood without trying to. “The third-years have already won once, so they know what they’ve got to do for a repeat.”

That’s right. Tokyo won last year, under Gojo’s guidance, for the first time since… well, since he stopped competing himself, according to what you’ve heard.

“Satoru had already started putting this year’s strategy together by the time you joined Jujutsu Tech,” Yaga adds, trying his best to sound apologetic. “So there’s no need to concern yourself with that. It’s already well-oiled.”

As far as you’re concerned, the only thing that’s well-oiled here is this routine they’re performing, all for your sake. You click your tongue, not bothering to hide your annoyance, and watch as Yaga’s fingers curl, as Gojo’s chin lifts and the blueish glow focuses on you. There’s politics in the air, you can smell it, with a role you have to play. So they think, at least. Unfortunately, you lack knowledge when it comes to Japanese society, and you cannot quite identify what that role is.

To be fair, you also don’t care for it.

“Was it really necessary to waste all of our times with this charade?”

“I beg your pardon?” Yaga asks in response. His voice thunders dangerously. He’s warning you not to cross a line.

“If you don’t want me involved, you can just say so,” you answer with a shrug. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have missions to assign.”

You don’t wait for him to dismiss you to stand up, rolling your eyes once you have your back turned on them. How bland. You’ve never seen the point of engaging with this kind of theatrics when there are such greater things at play. Having you help the kids come up with a strategy of their own, going over the basics of planning, now that could have been interesting and helpful. It’s not that you doubt Gojo’s abilities in that domain, you don’t, but it is your specialty, and you’ve had to learn to survive with resources that are significantly more limited than his. Instead of doing that, in the name of whatever internal conflict is going on here, the kids have been deprived of that experience.

How boring.

Once the door has closed behind you, Gojo lowers his head, shoulders shaking. Yaga turns around, frowning, only to find him quietly laughing to himself.

“Told you she was a weird one,” he says once he’s caught his breath.

“Maybe,” Yaga mumbles, “but there must be a reason why she was placed here.”

Gojo hums. Outside the office, he follows your cursed energy. It has always been diffuse, fickle, fizzling out around you until it becomes hard to tell where it ends — even for him. Must have something to do with your cursed technique, but he hasn’t seen you use that yet. You go straight to your classroom, where you sit behind your desk to work, like you do every day until it’s late in the night.

Yaga is right, of course. There must be a reason. But you’re at least making it fun for him to figure out.

The Kyoto Goodwill Event does not go over well.

Maybe you should get some petty satisfaction from it, but there is none to be found, just a bitter taste in your mouth. Next to you, Utahime, the Kyoto school teacher, does not look up at the screens provided by Grade 1 sorcerer Mei Mei. She has her eyes on her hands, and she is nervously rubbing her fingers. In fact, while a few outsiders who have come to see the game for their own enjoyment exclaim at the students’ impressive moves, there is only one member of the schools who seems to be enjoying himself, and that is Principal Gakuganji.

Kyoto is methodical in their approach. On an individual level, you suspect that Kyoto is far ahead of them, but as a team, they have come up with the perfect strategy — at least against the Tokyo team. They have done their research, know everything there is to know about their adversaries. Then again, having one member of the Zen’in and one member of the Kamo family on their side, even if neither have access to their families’ historical techniques, must have been quite the help to gather that information.

You don’t see them doing anything revolutionary — if anything, a team such as theirs could have been composed hundreds of years ago — but they have no need for it, not with how brutal they are willing to be, leaving devastation in their wake. They’re prepared, efficient, collected. They’re also quick, having adapted to this modified version of capture the flag, one that involves curses, without hesitation.

Tokyo defends to the best of their abilities. They prove themselves especially capable when it comes to improvising on the spot, which means that Gojo’s teaching works on that front is working, at least. The match ends up closer than Kyoto must have been hoping for, but it doesn’t change the end result.

It’s a resounding victory for Kyoto.

“Well,” Gakuganji is the first to speak as it ends, “that was quite the beautiful display of sportsmanship, don’t you think, Satoru?”

You glance at Gojo, who is sitting next to you. There’s real anger in the way his jaw tenses at the question, but by the time you blink, he’s already relaxed it.

“That was really impressive!” he laughs, throwing his head back and clapping enthusiastically. “They’ve progressed so much since last year, haven’t they? I never imagined they would be able to come this far.”

You press your lips together at the barely veiled insult.

“Indeed, that is what realized potential looks like,” Gakuganji replies, stroking his beard. “Such a shame to see your promising pupils crashing and burning… Although that’s not the first time you’ve seen that happen, is it?”

That is the least charitable way of looking at what happened there, but it is impossible to argue with the facts: Kyoto bested Tokyo. You can’t say you appreciate the way he’s talking about your students, but you don’t think it’s your place to say anything.

Gojo’s smile thins.

“Well, I’ll be looking forward to the individual tournament tomorrow,” Gakuganji adds, standing up. “In the meantime, Yaga, I assume you have planned for accommodations, and all this action has given me quite the appetite.”

He leaves the room with an unmistakably pleased smile, Yaga getting up after him. He gestures at Gojo to join them, and he’s not hiding his scowl when he stands up, unfolding his long limbs slowly. The other sorcerers follow suit, Utahime included, though she is sporting a somber expression too. You’re the only one to linger in the room, in no rush to suffer through more of Gojo and Gakuganji’s quips.

When you do leave, you stop by the infirmary, where you find Ieiri cursing through her teeth as she works on the students. Even though several of them are fully healed, they’re keeping themselves huddled up together, shoulders hanging low, eyes on the ground.

Defeated.

“Professor Gojo has already come by,” one of them informs you without bothering to look at you. “We’re fine. We’ll do better tomorrow.”

“Yes, you will,” you confirm, and you see flashes of hope on their faces, mistaking your confidence for a prophecy. Truth be told, you haven’t seen anything for the next day, but this is often the best way of using the aura that surrounds you. “But you did well today. They saw a weak spot, and they exploited it. As long as you learn from it, there is no shame in this defeat.”

That deflates them, and Ieiri snickers, glancing at you with a grin.

“Quite the pep talk you’re giving here.’

She’s right. You’ve never been good at this.

“You’re all excellent sorcerers, but even you can be defeated by people who are not as good as you, provided they’ve prepared adequately. That is what you need to take away from today. Conversely, you will be able to defeat much stronger adversaries than you, with the right approach.”

Some look thoughtful at your words — most still look just as dejected as they were when you walked in.

“We’ll work on that once this tournament is over. For now, all you need to do is rest. You’ll prevail tomorrow.”

Smiles finally break on their faces, and you take that as your cue to leave, before you can say something that would ruin it again.

You’re in no rush to join the other sorcerers just yet, so you wander through the hallways, intending to go back to the classroom that’s become your refuge in the school. You’re one corner away from it, when the window that leads to the outside slides open, and Satoru Gojo jumps in, right in front of you. It is the second floor, yet you can’t muster surprise.

He shoots you a smirk that knocks the air out of you, but it’s nothing compared to what he does next. He looks back towards the window, looking displeased, and that’s when you notice voices calling for him — Kyoto students and low-level sorcerers. You’re about to look down when he catches you. He wraps a hand around your wrist to pull you away, presses the other on the wall, next to your head, and you freeze. He’s close, and everything you’ve been feeling for weeks at this point comes rushing back in.

“You know what’s a great way of getting people’s attention off you?” he asks, smirk even wider, if possible.

“Wh—”

Then his lips are on yours.

He tastes sweet, you’re surprised to find.

It’s playful, the way he kisses you, a press of his mouth against yours, stolen, daring. It’s also all you need to admit to yourself how badly you’ve been wanting this. That’s why you’re the one who wraps your arms around his neck, kissing him back harder. He lets out a surprised noise into you, maybe a chuckle, but he certainly doesn’t fight it, even if he wasn’t planning on it. In fact, it’s quite the contrary.

He reaches greedily for your hips, pulling you to him and keeping you pressed against his hard chest. When you part your lips, there is not a moment of hesitation on his part before he pushes his tongue in, swirling it against yours. You crane your neck to give him better access to your mouth, all while holding on tight to his neck to lower him towards you. Your back is against the wall, your body arched a way that would be uncomfortable if you weren’t so hot all over, set ablaze by his touch.

When he pushes his thigh between your legs, flexing it so it rubs against you just right, your knees buckle under you. It doesn’t help that, in this position, his semi-hard cock is pressed against your abdomen, and that awakens a very special kind of hunger within you.

There is no softness to the kiss or to the way your bodies move together, just pure lust. Wetness is pooling between your legs already, in anticipation for more, more of him, more of his body, more of his touch. He’s so tall, it’s like he’s everywhere, his scent surrounding you, his body caging you against the wall effortlessly, his mouth demanding more and more of you. You roll your hips against his, trapping his cock between your bodies, and he hisses into you, his grip turning bruising — not that you mind.

“Tease,” he manages to mumble as he takes a quick breath.

There’s no room for any more words before he reattaches his mouth to yours, almost biting into you, and fuck it feels good. His lips are soft, but that must be the only thing that is soft about this kiss. He moves your skirt out of the way, one hand coming to grab your thigh so he can lift it up, and that is when your eyes snap open, some reason coming back to your lust-filled brain at last.

“Wait,” you mumble, “not here.” Your eyes dart around the dark hallway — empty, but far too in the open for your liking. Problem is, your body is aching with how much you want him, and, even if it would be the smart thing to do, you can’t bring yourself to stop now. “Classroom,” you conclude, pulling him with you.

He lets out a breathless laugh, but follows. The second the door is closed, he has you against the wall again, this time with his chest pressed to your back while his lips find your neck, teeth pulling at the skin mercilessly before dragging his tongue on the sensitive area to soothe it. You let out a sigh, but it comes out much louder than you’d intended, almost a moan, and you have to lift a hand up to cover your mouth. He snickers, but doesn’t waste any more time on teasing you.

Instead, he snakes his hand into your skirt, and this time, you don’t stop him. Long fingers move past the hem of your panties to brush against your clit and you jump, biting your lower lip to keep quiet. His lips stretch into a smile on your neck.

“You’re so fucking wet already,” he comments by your ear, rubbing his fingers over your pussy lips, purposefully not entering you.

You groan in frustration, and push your ass against his now rock-hard cock. The low moan he lets out in surprise is delightful to hear.

“As if you’re one to talk,” you reply.

“Is that how you want to play it?”

Before you can answer him, he easily pushes two fingers inside you. They’re long and they fill you so well, you have to focus every fiber of you that’s not lost in pleasure on keeping quiet. Gojo’s free to take his fingers out, then plunge them into you once more, and you can’t help clenching needily around them.

“See,” he says, and oh his low voice, the way it makes his chest vibrate against your back, it all goes straight to your core, making you gush around his fingers some more, “that’s expected of me, ‘cause everyone knows I’m sorcerer society’s problem child. Aren’t you supposed to be the good girl?”

It’s no easy task to think with his fingers pumping in and out of you relentlessly, but even through the haze of pleasure, the words make you frown.

“Says— Ah— Says who?”

He uses the heel of his palm to press against your clit, and you’d conclude that he is actively trying to render you speechless if pleasure wasn’t shooting through you like electricity.

“Hmm, I don’t know, I’d say you’re being pretty good right now, wouldn’t you?”

“Would you— fuck— would you stop talking and just fuck me already?” you still manage to bite out.

He laughs again, delighted and maybe a little fond, but he stills his fingers inside you. You get some time to catch your breath, and use whatever self-control you have left not to try and fuck yourself on his hand.

“You sure?”

“As long as you’re clean, I’m safe,” you say — maybe not your smartest moment, but you can’t find it in yourself to care right now.

He pulls his fingers out, and you glance at him over your shoulder. He’s still wearing the bandages over his eyes, but his jaw is uncharacteristically taut, and his movements lack their usual fluidity. You grin. Good to see you’re having an effect on him too. It becomes even more obvious when he pulls out his cock, hard and veiny. You’re not surprised by how big he is, and you find yourself licking your lips, clenching around air at the prospect of what’s to come. Shit, you cannot wait to have it inside you, stretching you out.

“I’ve been wanting to mess up that skirt for weeks,” he mumbles, mostly to himself, as he pushes it out of the way and lowers your panties.

“Then what are you waiting for?” you ask with a click of your tongue. He is still talking way more than he should.

The smirk he gives you should concern you. He presses the tip of his cock to your entrance, and then, instead of penetrating you, as you’re frozen in anticipation, slides his length against your pussy lips, sending jolts of pleasure through you, but not giving you what you need right now. You whimper pleadingly, not catching yourself fast enough to keep yourself silent. You worry that he will keep teasing, but it appears he has reached his limits too, because soon he is pushing the tip of his cock inside you, and fuck, it’s even better than you’d imagined.

You hear him grunt behind you as he starts pushing himself inside you at a devilishly slow pace. You expected him to do it all at once, so you turn around once more, ready to throw another quip at him for his relentless teasing, but the words die on your lips when you see his face. His teeth are planted in his lower lip, and his face is contorted in a pleasure that he is clearly trying to reign in, his breathing quick and shallow, his chest heaving. The sight leaves you breathless, so you stay quiet.

“So fucking tight,” he all but whines as he keeps pushing himself inside you.

He bottoms out at last, and he stills for a few seconds, all so you can adjust and not at all because he is going to come too fast if he can’t get used to how warm and welcoming you are around him first. The discreet groans he was letting out turn into a full moan when you move forward, pulling him out of you, then back, sheathing him inside you completely once more. You’d keep moving, but he grips your hips tightly, fingers digging into the flesh, to stop any movement you could make.

It doesn’t last long though, because after that, he starts moving himself, and the pace he sets it merciless. The slapping of skin on skin echoes obscenely in the empty room, but you can’t find it in yourself to care, not when you can barely think, not when your knees are failing you and his hands on hips are the only thing keeping you standing, not when tiny whimpers keep spilling past your lips, no matter how much you try to keep them in.

“Couldn’t be even just a little patient, hm?” he asks you. It’s undercut by the gasps that interrupt him, the pleasured moans that escape him too.

This time, you don’t find anything to answer. The angle, with you bent over, hands on the wall in a desperate attempt to stay on your feet, makes you feel so, so full that you can’t think straight. Pleasure is coursing through you with each time he hammers into you, and you clench around him helplessly each time he pulls out. He’s fast, relentless, but if the way his moans keep getting more-pitched is any indication, he’s close to reaching his climax. You’re not far yourself, you just— just need— just a little—

One of his hands abandons your hip, and you would stumble forward if he wasn’t holding you so firmly. His free hand finds its way to your clit, and pinches it expertly, just as he snaps his hips into you harder than he has so far, spilling himself inside you. The orgasm hits you like a thousand volts, and your hips jerk back uncontrollably, whole body shaking, as you ride the wave of it on his cock until it ends. Ah, you needed this so badly that, as it recedes, you can only feel content, the pleasure it gave you still tingling in your body.

For a while, the sounds of you and Gojo’s panting are all that fill the room. Finally, he pulls his sensitive, softening cock out a you with a hiss, and you ignore the squelching sound it makes. He tucks it back into his pants, and you finally find it in yourself to pull your panties back up, readjusting your skirt. Your hair is messy from the kissing earlier, but apart from that, you’re still rather presentable — you hope.

“Didn’t think you had that in you,” Gojo comments. He’s still catching his breath.

“At what point are you going to admit that you’ve just misjudged me?”

He laughs, but the smirk he shoots you, hands in his pockets, standing a few feet away from you, is proof that the distance between the two of you is back to what it was before. You don’t find yourself minding all that much. This is as good a way as any other to release tension, and you’re more relaxed than you have in weeks. The lightness of his voice tells you the same is true for him. Seems like you both got the same thing out of it, and that’s fine by you, even if it doesn’t bring you any closer.

“Once I know I was wrong,” he says. It sounds ominous, but, well, if he wants to keep clinging to that image he’s made of you, that is his problem. So far, you’d argue that it has rather worked in your favor.

You shrug.

“If you hadn’t felt that way, Tokyo would have won today,” you tell him matter-of-factly.

His smile widens.

“Guess we’ll have to see about that next year, hm?”

“I guess we will.”

Silence grows between the two of you. You normally wouldn’t mind. Now, you feel the need to say something.

“This should stay between us,” you finally manage to say. Sorcerer society can be— harsh, on women, to say the least. The last thing you need is for someone to know you’ve fucked your coworker. You’d be branded as a whore, and while you find this all horribly regressive, you’d still rather not have to deal with the fallout.

Gojo hums in agreement.

“I’m not really the type to want all my business out there either,” he tells you in a surprising display of sincerity. It’s ruined when he smirks and adds, “Next time, I think I should fuck you on your desk.”

You scoff, but you know you both hear your lack of denial loud and clear. You’re not opposed to there being a next time, provided this doesn’t get out. By the look of things, it would be mutually beneficial.

You don’t bother to answer him before you open the door, glancing outside. No one in sight. He would have known if that had been the case, of course, but you’re still relieved. You slip outside unceremoniously — it’s pretty clear you’re done here anyway — and he does nothing to hold you back.

Later, after you’ve taken a quick shower in the facilities available at the high school and you’re sat by Ieiri around the dinner table, Gakuganji can barely hide his smugness.

“Where you have been off to?” he asks Gojo, his tone making it clear just how pleased with himself he is. “Licking your wounds?”

“Something like that,” Gojo answers lightly, and you’re careful to keep your eyes on your food.

The conversation fades into the background. Your thoughts move to the upcoming solo tournament, the next day, to your students, to the missions you have to assign. And then, for the first time in forever, you find yourself distracted by something that isn’t work-related. You welcome the respite it gives you.

On your desk, next time, huh?

You could work with that.

thank you all for reading and getting all the way here! interactions are what keeps me writing, so please comment/reblog/send an ask to feed your author and have my eternal gratitude!

tagging people who expressed interest in the first chapter: @sapphiccloud @saccharine-nectarine @calypsothegoddess @aspiring-bookworm @aerismonia

[aviiarie]

THE FLAME HASHIRA'S TSUGUKO — platonic kyojuro rengoku & reader !

synopsis. what is the flame hashira like with a tsuguko? warnings. spoilers for mugen train arc. kny-typical warnings (violence, death, etc.) brief mentions of food and eating. notes. STRICTLY PLATONIC. demon slayer!reader. reader uses flame breathing. gn!reader. they/them used. fluff. 1.3k words. second in my tsuguko series! if you enjoyed, do let me know who you want to see in the next one ^^

muichiro ver.

if there is one hashira that is most sought out as a mentor, it is kyojuro rengoku.

to young demon slayers, he is the best candidate. he's warm and welcoming to the new recruits, he's much more approachable than other hashira, he doesn't look he would beat them to a pulp in the name of 'training'. whenever there is a new batch of slayers freshly accepted into the demon slayer corps, there is a wave of requests to become his tsuguko.

however, kyojuro has never actually looked at his pile of applications. they lie untouched in a small stack, gathering dust in a corner of his estate. the system of sending in an application in the hopes of achieving a mentor had never made sense to him; surely the only way a worthy tsuguko is chosen would be by dazzling him with their skills?

that's how mitsuri became his student, and that's exactly how he ended up with [name]!

they were practicing alone in one of the training rooms when he happened to walk by, on his way to a hashira meeting. kyojuro stopped in his tracks, drawn to the bright lights and warmth that only flame-breathing created.

he glanced into the room, and was immediately captivated by their skill. it wasn't perfect, by any means—at a hashira standard, it was downright sloppy—but there was a certain passion in their eyes that caught his attention. they were pouring every ounce of effort in their body into flame-breathing, with an energy that only a truly determined fighter held.

they had strong potential, he could tell from just a few seconds of watching them. if that wasn't a worthy candidate for tsuguko then he doesn't know what was.

“impressive!”

“huh?! who said that?”

when they accept, his training begins the very next morning. he wakes them up at dawn, looking far too refreshed for how early it was, and puts them through a series of drills to test their strength and speed. this is followed by some light sparring, before he encourages them to show him what they know about flame-breathing.

between exercises, there are a few values he instills in his student.

the first is the one he thinks every demon slayer should believe: the duty of the strong is to protect the weak. he will train them for as long as it takes for them to gain strength, so that one day they will be able to protect people as he does. anger and a desire for vengeance would only push them so far; they needed to know what they were fighting for, who they were protecting.

the second is less selfless, but no less noble in his eyes: to take care of others, you must take care of yourself first. he knows firsthand that neglecting the health of one's own body in favour of duty will only make him less capable of carrying out said duty, so he makes sure to drill the words in their head. proper rest, hydration, and sustenance are essentials for keeping oneself in top condition, and ready for battle.

the final is the most difficult to learn: loss is heartbreaking, but inevitable. kyojuro has been a part of the demon slayer corps for a long time, and before he was a hashira, he was a beginner demon slayer. he has experiences missions that have failed, he has witnessed casualties—both civilian, and his fellow slayers. while protecting innocents is a hashira's top priority, he needs his tsuguko to know that death is unavoidable in some situations, no matter how skilled they are. that doesn't mean that it is their fault, when tragedy strikes.

training is rigorous, but kyojuro is an excellent teacher. he is patient when they're struggling, eager to praise their improvements, no matter how small.

he builds a rapport with them fast. months of training go by, and their progress is simply incredible! he couldn't be more proud!

by then, he honestly treats his tsuguko like a second sibling. like, of course they are invited to family dinner with senjuro, was that ever a question? senjuro himself was slightly wary about them at first, but it didn't take long for him to warm up to them too.

family dinner is nonnegotiable, by the way. it only happens about once a month when kyojuro isn't on a mission and senjuro has the time to cook a meal for them, so it's treated very seriously. they will show up and they will enjoy it, or they will have to deal with senjuro's quiet sullenness and kyojuro's passive-aggressive sighs of disappointment.

(kyojuro used to invite his father to these dinners, but he was always met with a blunt dismissal whenever he tried to ask. senjuro told him to just let it go, so he quietly gave up on attempting to include him. family was much more peaceful when it was just the three of them, anyway.)

during the colder months, he has a habit of throwing his haori over his tsuguko’s shoulders after their lessons to keep them warm on their way back to their room. if they try to protest it, he just waves them off with a laugh.

“do not worry, young [name]! i can assure you that i have no problem with keeping warm myself! but i can't have you freezing before our next training session, can i?”

he is a kind mentor. brave, encouraging. he never looks down on his tsuguko, even when the gap between their skills makes it clear he is—and likely always will be—a step above them. to them, he is unshakeable, untouchable.

well. until the mugen train mission, that is.

they were in the middle of resting from a mission, when kyojuro's crow landed on their windowsill and delivered the news: in the battle against upper moon three, kyojuro was fatally wounded.

for a second, they couldn't quite believe it. it was only a few weeks prior that they had seen him, grinning and pushing a bento box into their hands, promising he would be back to train with them soon enough.

the grief hits them hard. they can't fathom the idea of never hearing his bright and cheerful voice wake them at the crack of dawn, never feeling his warm hand clap against their shoulder to give an encouraging squeeze. tears spill over, their breath chokes in their throat.

he is gone. there won't be another family dinner, or spontaneous training session, or trips into town to watch sumo wrestling. they were alone; a tsuguko without a mentor, a fire without any kindling.

it's then that their mentor's voice rings in their head, reminding them of the three lessons he taught the.

the duty of the strong is to protect the weak. kyojuro died protecting his fellow slayers. it was an honourable death, and one that he would be satisfied with.

to take care of others, you must take care of yourself first. with shaky hands, they pour themself a cup of soothing tea. kyojuro would urge them to focus on keeping themself healthy during such a grief-filled time.

loss is heartbreaking, but inevitable. kyojuro was dangerously aware of his own mortality, and never shied away from the idea that he might die any day. he would enthusiastically talk about how when he is gone, they will be the next flame hashira.

kyojuro wouldn't want them to fall apart without him. he would want them to keep burning like a inferno, channeling their emotions into their breathing until it was as sharp as their blade. the last thing he would want is to let his death destroy the fire in their heart.

so they stop. they breathe. they mourn. then, they hold their head up high, and steady their blade at their side.

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai.

[tiny-buzz]

± 13 FEELS ONLY HIGH SCHOOL TEENS KNOW ±

° SHARE THIS POST ‡ IT COULD SAVE A LIFE TONIGHT °

1) Secret stash of Nacho Cheese Bugles in your locker, unknown even to bae.

2) That feel when a school improvement which everybody knows is stupid is instantly vandalized to the point of destruction.

3) Blink-182 as your ringtone for when Bae calls. Green Day as your ringtone for when back-up Bae calls. Red Hot Chili Peppers for when your step-dad Randy calls. He calls constantly and you never pick up so you can listen to the cool, modern music of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, the band that all teens love.

4) Local news weatherman comes to your Fellowship Of Christian Athletes after-school sesh to talk to you about how things “might get overcast in a teen’s life” sometimes, but there’s an “80% chance of kicking drugs for good when you turn to methadone and prayer coupled with rigorous physical activity, like swimming”

5) That feel when best friend gives you good news: you made the team!

6) Army recruiter standing outside cafeteria tells you to do a pushup, but the only thing you want to "push up" are your stats in your favorite video game, Digimon.

7) That feel when no pizza and homework and bae.

8) That feel when a kid literally gets put into a locker and the fire department has to come to literally cut him out, which takes two hours.

9) Senior prank. . . . . . . enough said.

10) That feel when another student body president's empty promise to make Pet Dances into a reality

11) Substitute teacher makes you watch "My Cousin Vinny" teacher comes back the next day and you watch "My Cousin Vinny" again

12) That first time you heard Bohemian Rhapsody. Mind = blown.

13) Bae ate all your pizza. You post about this, on Tumblr.com.

14) Why does the pizza always have to be square? Student body presidential candidate promises circle pizza, fails to deliver... AGAIN.

15) Janitor looks sad, sick.

16) Constantly tempted to drive your convertible filled with friends at high speed along Dead Man's Curve

17) Beef stew for lunch? Again?

18) Everyone has faint memory of kid who accidentally threw frisbee into woods during out-door gym class, went to retrieve it, and was never seen again

19) Caught forging bae's mom's signature on failing report card, again.

20) Pension funds are missing

21) Getting detentions for thinking about bae and BH ideas in class.

22) No vending machines because Randy punched one and stole all the Fritos and got blood everywhere and then joined the army

[sirfrogsworth]

Storytime...

A long time ago there was this thing called redlining. White people didn't want Black people living in their neighborhood. So Black people were forced to live in the poorest areas with the lowest wages.

Yes, they banned redlining. But stopping something does not necessarily fix the damage that was done. It did not magically give Black folks higher wages so they could move into better areas. They were basically stuck. They were unable to build up generational wealth. So their children were also stuck in those poor areas with low wages.

Redlining created a cycle of poverty that still exists to this day.

Public schools are funded mostly by property taxes. If you live in an area with expensive property, there will be more money to fund local schools. If you live in an area with less expensive property, your local schools will not have the ability to properly fund themselves.

Poorer areas have more crime. They pay their teachers less. So they have a huge issue recruiting qualified teachers. They cannot provide students with all of the tools they need to succeed. No computers or current textbooks. Schools in warm areas will not have air conditioning. Some in cold areas will have inadequate or broken heating. The building infrastructure may be falling apart with leaky pipes and dysfunctional bathrooms.

Distraction after distraction makes it a difficult environment to learn.

Kids in poor areas are also more likely to be food insecure due to food deserts and sometimes they lack free school lunch programs. Hungry kids do much worse in school. It is hard to concentrate when you are hungry.

So in order for a Black student to succeed in an underfunded school they have to overcome the following variables... hunger, less qualified teachers, lack of school supplies, deteriorating facilities, outdated textbooks, lack of educational technologies, and they are poorly educated about sex and drugs. Many can easily fall victim to addiction and the consequences of sexual activity. They are also overpoliced and overdisciplined. Often getting suspensions and expulsions for the same behaviors as white students who only get warnings or detention. They get suspended 4 times as much.

Under those circumstances, even the brightest and most hardworking kids might struggle to reach their potential. Their grades will suffer. Their test scores will be lower.

On paper, they don't look like a good candidate for admission.

Affirmative action was a way to give those kids with potential a second chance at a good school. Recruiters could judge the students on other variables. They could take into account all of the educational obstacles. And they could admit people who probably would have thrived if they were born in a different zip code.

If someone goes to a good school and has good grades and test scores, they will find a place to get a higher education. Maybe not their first choice. Maybe not a fancy Ivy League school. But they will get a good college education *somewhere*.

If someone went to a bad school and had no chance at achievement... without affirmative action they might not get into any college at all.

If Republicans want to level the playing field, perhaps start with public school funding. (And stop voting against lunch programs for chrissake.)

Until that happens, ending affirmative action will make the cycle of poverty that much harder to break.

[schemmentisjacket]

Chapter 1 - Prep Day pt 1

Authors Note: Little something something about non binary queer new teacher coming in, leading to Melissa finding the one.

Prep days. All the teachers were familiar with this by now, Barbara and Melissa especially having done many over the years. So rolling round to the first day of the year, well for teachers anyway, Melissa found herself pulling into the carpark and swinging into her usual bay next to Barbara’s more sensible family car, whilst her green dodge challenger glistened in the morning sun.

‘Morning Barb,’ her first call from the window before sliding them up and slipping out of the leather seat, door closing behind her.

‘Morning dear, ready for the first day?’ Barb asked, her boot open, surveying the boxes stacked up with supplies for the coming year and for classroom decorating.

Just as Melissa opened her mouth to reply, a sleek blacked out Jeep pulled into the car park. Compact. Tinted windows. Glossy. ‘Fuck that’s a nice car,’ Slid from her mouth instead of the usual, ‘Another year, same shit, but anything for my little eagles’

‘Melissa!’

‘What Barb? It’s a thing of beauty, never seen that round here before. Reckon it’s the new fourth grade teacher? I wonder who got it.’

‘I’m not sure who Ava chose in the end. There were definitely some serious candidates from the interview process. Hopefully it’s a good one or at least my choice!’ Barbara said, looking over to the Jeep. She had been part of the recruitment process over the summer, meeting several of the candidates and feeding back to Ava. However they hadn’t been told who had been successful.

They both heard the pop of the door handle. A green leather gloved hand appeared around the door. White sneakers gave way to mid blue denim, not too tight but not overly baggy. Green hoodie layered with a black leather jacket. Chiselled jaw, short auburn hair, cut scalp close at the sides and back, flopped unruly on top. Eyes hidden behind dark lenses.

The clunk of door shutting behind them and a double click of the locks securing travelled across the car park as the person looked up towards them both.

A gloved hand raised in their direction.

‘Mrs Howard!’ The voice called.

Melissa shivered, that voice, low and husky but a hint of femininity.

A crooked grin and the person headed in their direction. A gloved hand raised and the front of the glasses clicked away from the frames. Clear lenses revealed green eyes.

Barbara started forward, arms outstretched ‘Charlie! I told you, Barbara is just fine. Melissa, meet Charlie Flinn. They were my favourite person from the interviews. I had hoped you’d get the position.’

Melissa picked up on the way Barb had used ‘they’. The androgynous styling and meeting of masculine and feminine features, she guessed they might be non binary.

Charlie hugged Barbara. ‘You’re too kind. I’m really glad I got it too! I’m excited to work with you. With both of you,’ They turned to look at Melissa and reached out a leather clad hand, ‘You must be Miss Schemmenti, Mrs How, I mean Barbara, spoke so highly of you during my interview, I was hoping to get the chance to meet the amazing teacher she’d described, though she never mentioned how stunning you are.’

Melissa felt her chest flush beneath her own leather jacket as she took the offered hand in her own.

‘Nice to meet ya too, Charlie was it? Nice set of wheels you got there.’

‘Thanks, Can I help you ladies move some of those boxes?’

Barbara smiled widely ‘That would be lovely dear.’

Melissa turned to her own car popping the trunk, she didn’t have as many boxes as Barb, as she was waiting on a delivery from one of her guys. She took a peak over her shoulder to see Barb load a second box into the newbies arms. The arms of their jacket bulging slightly as they supported the load.

She shook her head. Newbies took time to get used to if they even stuck around, but this one was easy on the eyes and polite without being over eager.

Maybe they’d be worth the time.

[qs63]

Amestris Military Training

This is the fourth of my series of long posts about the Amestrian Military. This is the speculative part of this meta. Little is known about the training the Amestrian soldiers receive, the most we have seen about it comes from the OVA “Another man's battlefield” and a few scenes in the manga. However, as we have seen through this series of posts, Arakawa took a lot of inspiration from the real world. The Imperial Japan military training seems to match a lot of what we see in FMA. Brace yourself, this is long and history heavy. 

Once again, I'm not a historian and I'm not fluent in Japanese. Please let me know if there's anything I missed or got wrong.

To see the rest of this meta series check out the Main Post.

First a little background about the Empire of Japan. It was the Japanese nation-state that existed from the Meiji Restoration in 1868 until the enactment of the reformed Constitution of Japan in 1947. Its history is divided in three periods named after the emperors that presided over them: Meiji (1868-1912), Taishō (1912-1926) and Shōwa (1926-1947).

This is a period of transformation for Japan, where they opened to the world and tried to modernize themselves and catch up with the western nations… by copying them. Meiji Japan is almost a pseudo European country. Their laws, government organization, education, etc. was reformed and modeled after the contemporary European nations and the United States of America. The influence of the third French Republic was especially strong in the early Meiji period, with it getting revised and remodeled in favor of other systems — mostly German as the relationship with the USA and its allies soured — throughout the years.

This is also the case in their military education. 

Officers training  During the early Meiji, the military cadets (meaning candidates to become officers) received a French style training which was later changed to a German style cadet system. The main difference between the two systems is that the German style required for the cadets to gain experience as Non-commissioned officers before graduation, while the French one didn't. 

Based on what we see in Fullmetal Alchemist they follow the German style system that lasted from 1887 to the American intervention in 1945. The main indication of this is that we see Riza Hawkeye in Ishval as a NCO.[1] She would've never been there under the French system. The time frame of the German style training also matches what we see in FMA. I'll explain this a bit later. 

For now let's concentrate on who and how someone could enter the Imperial Japan Army Officers Academy.

Three types of students could enter the academy: graduates of the Army's Children School, graduates of  Junior high school (both these schools covered ages 12 to 16), and selected active Non-commissioned officers who applied for officer training. 

The graduates of the army's children school didn't need to pass any exam to enter the academy, but only the best were selected. They had to compete for positions with the external candidates, those aged 16 to 19 who passed the recruitment exam (which required at least a junior high school education). Both of these students would enter the academy as cadets.

While the program was revised many times, the longest standing program was the 2 courses 4 years system. 

In this system the cadets would first take a two year military officer preparatory course that was equivalent to regular higher education. They were taught science, history, geography, etc. by civilian teachers. Their rank (the equivalent of private first class), military branch, and unit were designated upon graduating the preparatory course. 

After graduation the cadets would serve in their designated unit for six months (during which time they were promoted to corporal), afterwards they would be given the rank of sergeant upon entering the main military officers course. 

The main course was 1 year and 10 months long, and it was where the actual military training happened. The cadets would be taught tactics, military history, military system, weaponry, marksmanship, etc. they would also receive training in camp duty, shooting, swordsmanship, gymnastics, horsemanship, etc. in addition field trips were also conducted. 

Upon graduating they would become Apprentice Officers (a rank equivalent to Sergeant Major, the highest of the NCO ranks) for a trial period of about six months. Afterwards they would be officially appointed as 2nd Lieutenant (the lowest of the officers ranks) on the recommendation of their original troop's officer corps.

Now you might be wondering why I think Arakawa used this system (or rather one inspired by it) in Fullmetal Alchemist. I have a few reasons.

The first is the characters' ages. We know Roy and Hughes are 18 in “Another man's battlefield”, and we see them training in marksmanship and military tactics. We also see they have upperclassmen which implies the course is longer than one year.[2] We also know that Roy is 20 years old when he graduates the academy and visits the Hawkeye family, thanks to brotherhood giving us the date of Berthold's death.[3]

This all matches with the imperial Japan German style cadet system, where the majority of students would enter the preparatory course at 16 upon graduating from junior high school or the military school, they would then be 18 at the time of starting the main course, and 20 upon graduating from the academy. The ages of the characters and what we see on screen matches the system’s time frame.

Riza Hawkeye is yet another example three years after her father's death and conversation with Mustang, during the Ishval war, she is yet to graduate from the academy.[1][3][4] Either the Amestris academy lasts more than the two years we see Roy and Hughes go through, or she waited about two years to enter the military Academy (otherwise she would have already graduated by Ishval). I don't think it makes sense for her to wait so long to join the academy, specially if it has an age cap (of 19 in Imperial Japan). So assuming she entered right after her father died, that would put her in the last year of the German style system by the time we see her in Ishval, perfect for getting pulled into a war with her already assigned unit. 

This brings me to my second reason for believing Arakawa is using this system: the ranks.

I mentioned before that the cadets in FMA don't seem to have a rank, this makes sense when you consider that in imperial Japan they were given ranks that do not exist in FMA. Instead of adding ranks or messing up with the system Arakawa might have just completely skipped them (much like she seems to have done with the military police). 

I also mentioned that graduates (the so called Apprentice Officers) are assigned a temporary rank of Sergeant Major. In FMA we know that you graduate with a rank of Warrant Officer[1][3][4]. But hold on, that's not the same… well not in name, but yes in practice. Sergeant Major was the highest NCO rank in Imperial Japan. It's not in FMA, that's Warrant Officer. So technically they're equal ranks. Furthermore, It doesn't make sense for a graduate of the OFFICER school to be officially assigned an NCO rank, unless that's for a trial period like in the German style cadet system. For reference, the French style system assigned graduates the rank of Second Lieutenant (the lowest officer rank) upon graduation, since it didn't require the cadets to gain NCO experience. The fact that we are shown both newly graduated Riza and Roy with the rank of Warrant Officer can only mean there is also a trial period in Amestris.

Further proof of this is that within a year of us seeing the freshly graduated Warrant Officers Riza Hawkeye in 1909[1][3], she's already a full fledged 2nd Lieutenant by the time we see her in Resembool in 1910[5], and again she's a 1st Lieutenant a year later when Ed becomes a State Alchemist[5]. Riza is good, but that's a lot of promotions in a short time. It makes more sense if you think that she was officially assigned her 2nd Lieutenant rank after completing her 6 months trial period, and then she was promoted around the same time as Roy got his Colonel promotion, perhaps for her work in Ishval + whatever cases they worked together. Now, that seems a lot more reasonable than Riza averaging a promotion per year in her early military days.

Another hint towards this system is the number of 2nd Lieutenants we meet: Havoc, Breda, Ross, Catalina, Henschel, Darius, Heinkel, Jerso, and Zampano. This is the rank we see the most of, and it makes sense if they all got it by going through the Officers Academy. We know this to be true for at least Havoc and Breda.

Havoc's and Breda’s graduation.[6]

Now you might notice I haven't mentioned the third type of student, the active non-commissioned officers (aka Second Lieutenant candidates). This is because while they go through the academy too, they're very different from the cadets:

They must be under the age of 38 and pass the Army Preliminary Course recruitment examination, which is different from the cadets exam.

They do NOT live on campus.

Their training only lasts 1 year (during peacetime), unlike the cadets 4 years. 

Because they are older than the cadets at the time they become officers, their promotion ceiling is lower as they hit the active duty retirement age before achieving high ranks.

Falman would fall into this category as he was a Warrant Officer for more than six months and clearly looks older than the rest of team Mustang. However, a year does not pass between him getting appointed to the North and him getting his promotion. My explanation for that is that the North has a shorter program for Second Lieutenant Candidates. In imperial Japan not only was the program shorter during war time (10-2 months), but the time also depended on which branch, region, and school you enrolled in. Since the North is quite hostile and is technically in a cold war with Drachma, it makes sense their Second Lieutenant Candidate program is short. The other explanation is that Falman started the program before being transferred. 

That more or less covers the Officers military training and education. Feel free to ask me if you want a more day to day explanation of the cadets’ life at the academy. You can also check this article. There's at least one documentary about it, available on Amazon Prime Japan.

Non-commissioned officers training  NCO’s training in Imperial Japan was first performed by the training corps (1871–1899), then by each unit (1899-1927), then after a decline in quality it was done at a training school (1927-1938), and finally back to the training corps until the American intervention. It's impossible for me to know if Arakawa used this system for the NCOs, and which period she chose to use, given how little information we have about the NCO characters. I still mentioned it in case anyone was curious about Fuery’s training. The training school lasted just one year and it was focused on general education, military education, and technical training.

The military police To end this, I will mention that the military police had their own academy separate from the officers’. They also had their own ranks equivalent to those of the army, i.e. Police First Lieutenant. It is possible this is the case in FMA. They're at the very least not trained together with the military personnel.

Thank you so much for reading all the way to the end. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please don't hesitate to reach to ask questions or just rant about this. I love discussing FMA.

Source Fullmetal Alchemist Manga

Chapter 24: Fullmetal Alchemist [5]

Chapter 58: footsteps of ruin [4]

Chapter 59: the immoral alchemist [1]

Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood

Episode 30: The Ishvalan war of extermination [3]

OVA: Another man's battlefield [2]

The complete art of Fullmetal Alchemist [6]

[batboyblog]

"My Name is Harvey Milk and I'm Here To Recruit You!"

If you don't know Harvey Milk was the first openly gay man elected to public office, to the San Francisco Board of Supervisors in 1977. To this day Harvey remains the most famous queer person elected to office maybe in the world. His short and tumultuous time in office was dominated by the fight for gay rights. In the late 1970s there was a huge backlash against the rise of gay rights spearheaded by a group called "Save Our Children". Across the country they organized elections to revoke local gay rights ordinances in Miami, Saint Paul, Wichita and Eugene in the summer and fall of 1977. In 1978 a California state Senator John Briggs brought forward a citizens referendum, Proposition 6, which would ban gay people and supporters of gay rights from being teachers any where in the state of California. The last year of Harvey's life was consumed with the struggle against Briggs who he debated across the state. In the end the Briggs Initiative was defeated 58-41% with Harvey's home of San Francisco turning out over 70% against. The national anti-gay fever broke and "Save Our Children" never recovered.

Harvey opened every speech he ever gave with "My name is Harvey Milk, and I'm here to recruit you" In the 1970s rather than accusing gay people of "grooming" children (an idea that didn't exist then) they were accused of "recruiting" them. "Recruiting our children to the homosexual lifestyle". So Harvey used it as a joke but also a battle cry

Today it feels like every day there's more bad news. Across the country state legislatures are trying to ban trans health care for minors and even adults. Local school boards are banning books about LGBT people (and others). States are trying to ban drag. violence and the threat of violence are trying to stop companies from doing Pride and attacking Queer events. The internet is flooded with "groomer" attacks on our humanity. There are days it does feel like the 1970s all over again.

BUT! we won then, and there are many lessons we can take from Harvey and his struggle and use to win the fight against the current wave of hate plunging American in darkness. Harvey's been gone a very long time so... My name is Max and I'm here to recruit you, here are some things I want everyone to do.

VOTE BITCH!

Are you an American citizen 18 years of age or older? Are you registered to vote? if the answer is no, register to fucking vote bitch, here check out what you need. If you want registered, click the link any ways and double check. If you're 16 or 17 years old good news more than half the states in America allow you to "preregister" so you're all signed up and become a registered vote right on your 18th birthday. Whats more ask every vaguely left of center person in your life, everyone who supports LGBT rights, if they're registered to vote and if any one says "no" bug the shit out of them till that changes.

But more than just registering to vote you have to go and vote, yes every election. Right now across America conservative queerphobes are using local elections that get little to no attention and are often very low turn out to take over and push wildly extreme and hateful agendas. Local school boards across America are banning books that have LGBT characters or themes. They pushing policies that refuse students the right to their correct names and pronouns. They want to require schools to out students to their parents against their wishes. Check Vote411 or ballotpedia to find what elections are happening around you.

Candidates on a local level, school board, town/city council, county government, even up to state Rep and state Senate candidates are almost always very responsive to questions. Email everyone running and ask them where they stand, you will get answers I PROMISE you will get answers. Its the easiest thing to do and everyone who has the right to vote in this country should do it, vote in every election.

"But I live in a super blue area my vote doesn't matter" SHUT UP! SHUT UP! even if every local election is Democratic it can be more progressive, ask local candidates what they're gonna do to push LGBT rights forward. Will your local school board push teaching LGBT history? respect trans students pronouns? will your local library board host a drag queen story hour and put together programs for pride? ask! push them! let local candidates know!

"but I live in a super red area my vote doesn't count" BULLSHIT! where ever you are there's a local election that can swing to the non-shitty side if people show up, you can be the difference in a school board election. No matter what stand up and be counted.

Come Out Come Out Wherever You Are.

Since the earliest days of the movement in the 1950s and 1960s before Stonewall, through Harvey Milk's time in the 1970s through to right now, the most powerful tool we have is to come out. It is easy to hate the homosexual, the transgender as an abstraction, as a stereotype as an unrefuted lie. It is so much harder to hate a brother, a sister, a son, a daughter, a friend, a neighbor, your lawyer, your doctor, the mailman, your 8th grade English teacher. In 1978 Harvey said:

"Unless you have dialogue, unless you open the walls of dialogue, you can never reach to change people's opinion. In those two weeks, more good and bad, but more about the word homosexual and gay was written than probably in the history of mankind. Once you have dialogue starting, you know you can break down prejudice. In 1977 we saw a dialogue start."

Thats what they're scared of, thats why they're freaking out in Target, why they're trying to shut down Drag Queen story hours and take away the books. Ignorance and hate lives in darkness and dies in the light. In 1978 gay men and lesbians went door to door in California and introduced themselves to strangers to explain the harm Briggs would do to them. They vote for us 3 to 1 if they know they know one of us.

It shouldn't be like this, it should be when you're ready when you have all the words, but they're coming for us all so come out come out wherever you are. If you know your parents will love you but you've been holding off because it's scary or stressful, nows the moment. If you're a grown ass adult who lives on your own and don't need mom and dad's money to pay your rent, tell them, no matter how much it hurts, call them on the phone, write them a letter if you have to. Does your family know but they asked you not to tell grandma, grandma, great-aunt Marge because they're old or whatever, or your aunt and uncle who are born again Christians. Listen if they still vote they could be hurting you and if they really love you they shouldn't want to do that, tell them! tell them who you really are, and it might be the work of years to bring that person around, but you never know till you try it.

Are there family members you have who know and love you but you know they're conservative and still vote Republican and you've been avoiding talking to them about it because it's awkward? Stop avoiding it, explain it to them, explain that it's not "just politics" explain to your loved ones that they ARE hurting you. If they don't hear it the first time, don't stop, if they love you they shouldn't hurt you.

Come Out at Work, Come out at your bowling league, come out to that friend of a friend you see sometimes, wear a pin, rainbow shoes, a shirt in public, tell your co-workers, your clients, your Church, your Synagogue. Wear that rainbow pin, that pronoun t-shirt, put a sticker on your car, your bag, your phone. If it's safe for you to be out in a space, claim it, COME OUT WHEREVER YOU ARE.

COMING OUT AS TRANS OR NON-BINARY

COMING OUT AS LESBIAN, GAY, OR BISEXUAL

Go To Pride This Year.

Conservatives are trying harder than any time in my lifetime to shut down Pride. Florida and Tennessee have passed laws that will limit pride events. Terrorists are threatening and attacking brands that are doing Pride themed events and products. These events and products go back at least 20 years but the violence of attacks against them is really new. So the only answer is to GO TO PRIDE. I don't care if crowds are not your thing, I don't care if its 97 degrees out the day your city does it, I don't care if your local pride is small and embarrassing, I don't care you might see that one ex, I DON'T CARE. If you physically can go to a pride event this June DO IT. If you're scared to be seen, wear a mask, go in drag, put make or body pant over your tattoos whatever you need to do. If we want to have Pride again next year in many areas this year needs to be a show of force. If you've never been and you never go again this is the year, do it, go, find the Pride event closest to you and do it.

Get Involved Whore!

So far I've offered you pretty easy asks for things you can do, voting, coming out, going to Pride. Now comes the harder ones, get involved. In 1978 gay men and lesbians knocked on doors and told voters across the state of California how an anti-gay measure would affect them personally. If they had the nerve less than 10 years after Stonewall to go to strangers houses and come out to them, I believe you can do it too. Get out there, knock doors, make phone calls, mail postcards, wave signs. Talk to Voters from anywhere, find your local Democratic Party, check out LGBT Democrats in your state, check out groups like the HRC and PFLAG

if you've got money give to HRC, give to GLAD, Give to The National Center for Lesbian Rights all 3 of whom have been the tip of the spear fighting the insane anti-LGBT laws coming out of the states.

If you don't have money, check out The Victory Fund thats supports LGBT candidates and find one close to you and sign up to help. Can't find anyone? try Run for Something that supports young progressives. If you live in a Blue area of a blue state, you can check the Sister District Project which links up volunteers with swingy districts across the country. Swing Left does much the same on a more federal level

crazy right wing extremists can count on organized support from Churches and far right groups. You, yes you, talking to you Glenn! HAVE TO be the support network, the volunteer base for LGBT candidates and their allies and supporters. You have to HAVE to get out there, give if you have money, knock on doors, call, text, write letters go to a protest, sit at a booth, register people to vote, hand out literature, WHATEVER whatever. You can do it, please give at least one weekend over the next two years to a political campaign, be it a local school board candidate, town council, working for the Democrats or volunteering through the HRC or a progressive group, the people who want to destroy you are out working to win elections, you have to be too.

Fucking Run, why not?

This is the last thing, the hardest thing and the thing I don't expect everyone to do. Run, yes really, run for office, yes you, yes I mean it. If the crazed insane conservative who thinks Hillary Clinton drinks child blood out of kids like a juice box is qualified for School Board to ban all the books with queer people or black folks, you are MORE than qualified. I don't care if you're a high school drop out with face tats, you're more qualified than these people, so do it, if you've ever thought of it, do it. Frustratingly dozens of dozens of offices across this country are filled every day but uncontested elections only one person signed up, hell that person can be you why not? Look into it Last year 41% of the seats in the Florida Legislature went uncontested, 37% of the seats in Texas, 53% in Tennessee, 58% in South Carolina. It's not for everyone, but if you've ever wanted to, ever thought about it, take this as your sign, do it. Do you have a friend who's so smart, cool, involved and just better than you in every way and you think they should run the world? Nominate them, give them a push to run

I think Harvey put the importance of electing queer people better than I ever could so

Somewhere in Des Moines or San Antonio, there’s a young gay person who all of a sudden realizes that she or he is gay. Knows that if the parents find out, they’ll be tossed out of the house. The classmates will taunt the child and the Anita Bryants and John Briggs’ are doing their bit on TV, and that child had several options. Staying in a closet, suicide, and then one day that child might open a paper, and it says “Homosexual elected in San Francisco,” and there are two new options. An option is to go to California or stay in San Antonio and fight. Two days after I was elected, I got a phone call, and the voice was quite young. It was from Altoona, Pennsylvania, and the person said, “Thanks.” And you’ve got to elect gay people so that that young child and the thousands upon thousands like that child know that there’s hope for a better world. There’s hope for a better tomorrow. Without hope, not only gays, but those Blacks, and the Asians, and disabled, and seniors. The us’s. The us’s without hope, the us’s give up. I know that you cannot live on hope alone, but without it, life is not worth living. And you, and you, and you have got to give them hope. Thank you very much.

If you read all this thanks, I can't make anyone do anything of course, but whatever you choose to do, I'll be out there knocking doors. I wish I did not live in such dark times but as Gandalf The Gray said "So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.” 

Finally to all my Queer brothers, sisters, and siblings, even though I do not know you, and even though I may never meet you, laugh with you, cry with you, or kiss you. I love you. With all my heart, I love you.

[cortosis-ct]

The Bad Batch and their jobs (Modern AU)

In my headcanon they all started out as soldiers. After getting out and accidentally acquisiting Omega, they desperately need money and take any jobs they can get. Eventually, everyone finds something they actually like.

Hunter:

Retail sales associate aka Walmart slave and getting yelled at by Karens all day. He's also doing freelance cleaning jobs, the grosser the better the payment. Think hoarder apartments with fifty cats or scat orgy hotel room cleanup.

He works hard on getting his record cleaned up and eventually secures a job at the fire station. He becomes a firefighter and will eventually be a lieutenant and later captain.

Tech:

Fast food worker which means lots of being yelled at by hangry people who are unhappy with the way their BigMac was stacked. He takes any extra shift he can get.

After several failed rounds of applications, he hacks into a big company's system and puts his name on top of the candidate list. He ends up supervisor for some bank insurance IT stuff with lots of numbers.

Wrecker: Miner. It's hard work and long hours in the dark. He actually earns the most of all of them but that's because it's fucking dangerous and depressing.

The leading instructor for the demolition expert trainees blows up. Wrecker, having had professional training in the military and lots of experience at not getting blown up (again), is their best take so he becomes their new instructor for the new hires.

Crosshair: Nobody is really willing to hire him so he's an unlicensed taxi driver most nights. (He hates everything about it.) He also signed up as a freelance roadkill collector job in Hunter's name and takes the calls when he doesn't have passengers.

He meets railroaders when cleaning up railkill one night. When smoking he mentions how much he hates being a taxi driver and the railroaders recruit him for their company. He becomes a traindriver and finally doesn't have to interact with his passengers.

Echo: They call it online sales associate marketer and customer service advisor. He calls it tele-scam-marketer. Many people yelling at him but at least he can work from home.

At a parent-teacher conference of Omega's school he helps another parent with a technology problem. He's like: "I tried to get rid of that problem for hours and you did it within five minutes. You gotta be a master software engineer." and Echo's like "I get payed to get yelled at as a telemarketer". Turns out the guy is an HR associate at an IT company and gets Echo a proper job.

[delinquentbookworm]

pathetic you say- okay I'll go full evil with this: so, off/on situationship or not... What's it like if Jace and Porter take a break. Who's being the most normal of them

Oooo excellent question, thank you so much!!! The thing is, if Porter ended things, that'd be it, they would just be over. So for it to be a break, it has to be Jace calling it off.

Neither one of them are normal, but Porter looks the most okay, on the surface. He's civil to Jace when he bumps into him in the hallway (which pisses Jace off more than if he was mean). None of Porter's students or any of the other teachers can even tell anything is wrong, barring Zara, who notices that he's a lot more pent-up than usual, a lot more flirtatious, like he really needs it.

In private Porter is absolutely pissed. He's locking himself in the barbarian classroom after school and trashing the training dummies. Because how dare Jace do this, how dare he throw away what they've been building, how dare he make Porter feel like this treat Porter as disposable? He tells himself that this time he isn't going to chase after Jace, this time he isn't going to go try and win him back. He tells himself that he doesn't need Jace, that his plan will work just as well without him. He ignores the relationship part and focuses on the fact that he just lost a co-conspirator. He makes lists of other spellcasters he could recruit instead of Jace, and finds weaker and weaker reasons to rule them out as candidates. Zara has a celestial paramour who would kill him if he tried to shatter-star her, Terpsichore and Lucilla are impossible to be around for extended periods of time, Tiberia Runestaff honestly might have her own nefarious schemes already.

Meanwhile, Jace is acting like he's in his 20s again. He's doing his best to look like he's having an amazing time. He's going out and getting drunk on school nights, he's deep in Fantasy Grindr, he's rethinking his policy on not fucking in public bathrooms. If anyone at any of the various bars he visits asks what brings him out, he says he's 'celebrating', though he doesn't explain what.

He gets a little sloppy with it, a couple times he's hungover enough at school the next day that he has to beg Lucilla to cast Lesser Restoration on him. He still puts up the front of cheeriness, but when he lets his mask drop, he's bitchier and more irritable than usual. He's annoyed that he has to ask for the Restoration, when Porter would usually do it without a word, just to stop him complaining. He's annoyed at the strangers he's fucking, because they don't instinctively know what he wants, because they're too soft, or they're rough but not in the right way, or they're too respectful, or they disrespect him but not in the right way.

After the first couple of weeks he calms down a bit, but there's still a gaping hole inside him. He's lost without Porter, even if he doesn't want to admit that to himself. Porter gave him a purpose, something to work towards. What is he without that? He tries to find something to fill that void, tries throwing himself back into teaching, tries to recapture the enthusiasm he had in his first couple of years, but it doesn't last.

As much as he insists that it's over, for good this time, that he's never going back, he doesn't do the one thing that would actually make his leaving permanent - he doesn't turn Porter in. He has more than enough evidence to hand over to the Council of Chosen, and he could utterly destroy Porter if he wanted. But he won't. And Porter is never worried that he will.

[rightnewshindi]

शिक्षक भर्ती परीक्षा पेपर लीक मामले में झारखंड से 270 अभ्यर्थी गिरफ्तार; जानें पूरा मामला

शिक्षक भर्ती परीक्षा पेपर लीक मामले में झारखंड से 270 अभ्यर्थी गिरफ्तार; जानें पूरा मामला

Teacher Bharti Paper Leak: बिहार पुलिस की आर्थिक अपराध इकाई (ईओयू) ने बिहार लोक सेवा आयोग (बीपीएससी) की शिक्षक भर्ती परीक्षा (टीआरई)-3 में कथित प्रश्न पत्र लीक होने के संबंध में झारखंड के हजारीबाग जिले में 270 से अधिक अभ्यर्थियों को हिरासत में लिया है। आर्थिक अपराध इकाई द्वारा शनिवार को यहां जारी एक बयान के अनुसार, ईओयू के अधिकार��यों ने एक खुफिया सूचना के आधार पर 14 और 15 मार्च को हजारीबाग में…

[shepherds-of-haven]

How exactly did Red end up as the archmage of the Circle? Were there no other staff who were older/more experienced than him?

Good question! I can't remember in how much detail this was expounded upon in the game, but essentially, all Circles have always had trouble finding and retaining long-term faculty, instructors, and staff. In the old days before the Castigation, teaching positions at places like Solhadur were essentially like collegiate professorships at universities: you'd teach your classes, conduct office hours and head up research and projects, but you still had a home, life, and typically family outside of the school that you would return to once your day or week was over.

After the Castigation, of course, instructors don't really have this luxury: it's not as if you can risk being regularly seen making trips up to "the old abandoned castle" on the outskirts of town and then coming home to your house and family in Capra every night, exactly as if you... worked at the old abandoned castle that used to be a Mage academy, so instructors have to teach and live on the grounds under the same restrictions that the students have. Your whole life has to be about the Circle, by necessity, for everyone's safety. Except that students will eventually graduate after a few years and have the opportunity to leave and go their own ways in the world (if they want to); and teachers don't really get that luxury.

So if you try to source teachers from the outside, you already face a great deal of obstacles: you have to 1) find teachers who are experienced, advanced, and skilled enough at magic to teach it (hard enough when learning magic is outlawed by the Autarchy, so you're already dealing with a drastically-reduced pool of candidates), 2) someone who has the aptitude and demeanor suitable for teacher (further reducing the pool), 3) someone who has the willingness and capacity to devote their lives to the Circle and forego having a family, life, residence, or pursuits outside of it* (reducing the pool even further), and 4) to do all of this scouting, vetting, and recruiting in a way that doesn't result you both in getting caught by the Inquisitors or other authorities.

*There are exceptions to this, of course: nothing precludes the instructor from bringing their family to live with them at the Circle, but this also introduces new complications: what will your partner do for a living? What if your kids grow older and don't want that kind of life, or long to have friends outside of the Circle? Etc.

And then even if you manage to do all of this and hire an instructor, nothing guarantees that they'll want to teach forever. So your retention rate is pretty regular, with some teachers exiting after 5-10 years (and some even less), whether due to retirement or illness or seeking a new career or settling down and starting a family/lifestyle that isn't compatible with the Circle or having to go back home to take care of someone, or any number of reasons; but your hiring rate is drastically reduced.

(What about hiring internally, you ask, rather than finding instructors from outside the Circle? Well, consider your average high school or small college population. Of all the students you graduated with, how many of them would want to stick around after graduation to continue teaching? Let's say that number is higher than average because of the altered circumstances of the Autarchy: there aren't a lot of professions that allow young Mages to keep using their powers in a way they've now become accustomed to, so let's say interest in staying on as a staff member is far higher than the average student population. But of that number, who are also actually suited to be good teachers?)

Anyway, in the early days of Archmage Tevanti's tenure, he was actually pretty successful at scooping up a great number of faculty members who were interested in helping maintain the Circle: he was the son of the last Archmage of Solhadur and had that clout going for him, and he was very old when he died (around 200), so when he started his recruiting, it was actually in the early years directly after the Castigation. So there were still a number of pre-Castigation educated Mages willing and able to teach, and under his leadership, he garnered more over the years. But once he got older, active recruitment stagnated, partially because he already had his set faculty members and wasn't actively seeking new, fresh, younger blood; and also because the difficulty and danger of traveling on the roads seeking Mage instructors increased with the return of the Endarkened as well as heightened activity and zealotry from the Inquisitors, especially once Enik took charge. By the time Archmage Tevanti died, recruitment efforts had basically halted entirely, and it was left to "his" generation of teachers to keep things going. But over the years, many had already retired or died at the normal rate of decay, so where he may have started with, say, 40, in his twilight years there were 10. It was just bad luck that, because they were all of similar age to him, many of them also became ill, retired, or passed away around the same time as him, just before, or just after; so by the time it came to choosing a successor, the "senior" generation of faculty members were pretty much all gone or on the way out, and the middle generation were exiting for their own reasons (too dangerous, tired of teaching and quitting after a normal rate (say five years), wanting a career change or new pursuits, settling down and starting families, disheartened by his loss, etc.). So, to his thinking, you'd want someone younger, stronger, and sharper, someone who has a lot of years to give and isn't prone to noping out because of the demands of middle age or looming retirement, someone who could tackle this enormous task of being Archmage with the necessary fresh perspective and vigor of youth... which is why he chose someone like Red, and not the fifty-year-old Charms instructor who had indicated he would be retiring soon to spend more time with his granddaughter within a few years. It was just really, really bad luck that Red's stepping into the role coincided with anyone more senior than him (who could at least serve as an advisor or consultant or mentor) being eliminated/whittled down due to unfortunate circumstances and extremely bad timing: I think he mentions some professors were there to help him in the first years, but one was hit by a curse, one fell ill, and etc. It was probably on Archmage Tevanti to have recruited younger, fresher teachers sooner so Red would have a pre-established faculty before he took over, but again, a lot of circumstances prevented him from being as active in his recruitment as he should have (not even mentioning his long illness), and he really couldn't have predicted how things would go.

This is a long explanation, but hopefully that paints a better picture of how Red was essentially launched into a very stressful position without the guidance and direction Archmage Tevanti was expecting he would have, and why many of the teachers currently at the Circle are around the same age as him! However, after joining the Shepherds, there's obviously a lot more contact with Mages, so the faculty is more diverse in age and experience again and he can take a step back from his Archmage duties without feeling like it's all on him, as there's an actual support system for it all now! Hope that all makes sense!

[infiniteglitterfall]

Okay, I'm a data nerd. But this is so interesting?!

She starts out by looking at whether YouTube intense promotion of short-form content is harming long-form content, and ends up looking at how AI models amplify cultural biases.

In one of her examples, Amazon had to stop using AI recruitment software because it was filtering out women. They had to tell it to stop removing resumes with the word "women's" in them.

But even after they did that, the software was filtering out tons of women by doing things like selecting for more "aggressive" language like "executed on" instead of, idk, "helped."

Which is exactly how humans act. In my experience, when people are trying to unlearn bias, the first thing they do is go, "okay, so when I see that someone was president of the women's hockey team or something, I tend to dismiss them, but they could be good! I should try to look at them, instead of immediately dismissing candidates who are women! That makes sense, I can do that!"

And then they don't realize that they can also look at identical resumes, one with a "man's" name and one with a "woman's" name, and come away being more impressed by the "man's" resume.

So then they start having HR remove the names from all resumes. But they don't extrapolate from all this and think about whether the interviewer might also be biased. They don't think about how many different ways you can describe the same exact tasks at the same exact job, and how some of them sound way better.

They don't think about how, the more marginalized someone is, the less access they have to information about what language to use. And the more likely they are to have been "trained," by the way people treat them, to minimize their own skills and achievements.

They don't think about why certain words sound polished to them, and whether that's actually reflecting how good the person using that language will be at their job.

In this How To Cook That video, she talks about the fact that they're training that type of software on, say, ten years of hiring data, and that inherently means it's going to learn the biases reflected in that data... and that what AI models do is EXAGGERATE what they've learned.

Her example is that if you do a Google image search for "doctor," 90% of them will be men, even though in real life only 63% are men.

This is all fascinating to me because this is why representation matters. This is such an extreme, obvious example of why representation matters. OUR brains look at everything around us and learn who the world says is good at what.

We learn what a construction worker looks like, what a general practitioner doctor looks like, what a pediatrician looks like, what a teacher looks like.

We look at the people in our lives and in the media we consume and the ambient media we live through. And we learn what people who matter in our particular society look like.

We learn what a believable, trustworthy person looks like. The kind of person who can be the faux-generic-human talking to you about or illustrating a product.

Unless we also actively learn that other kinds of people matter equally, are equally trustworthy and believable... we don't.

And that affects EVERYTHING.

Also, this seems very easy to undo -- for AI, at least.

Like, instead of giving it a dataset of all the pictures of doctors humans have put out there, they could find people who actively prefer diverse, interesting groups of examples. And give the dataset to a bunch of them, first, to produce something for AI to learn from.

Harvard has a whole slew of really good tests for bias, although I would love to see more. (Note: they say things like "gay - straight, " but it's not testing how you feel about straight people. It's testing whether you have negative associations about gay people, and it uses straight people as a kind of baseline.)

There must be a way for image-recognition AI software to take these tests and reveal how biased a given model is, so it can be tweaked.

A lot of people would probably object that you're biasing the model intentionally if you do that. But we know the models are biased. We know we all have cultural biases. (I mean. Most people know that, I think.)

Anyway, this is already known in the field. There are plenty of studies about the biases in different AI programs, and the biases humans have.

That means we're already choosing to bias models intentionally. Both by knowingly giving them our biases, and by knowing they'll make our biases even bigger. And we already know this has a negative impact on people's lives.

[mariacallous]

To date, former President Donald Trump and Vice President Kamala Harris have only shared, well, “concepts of a plan” to improve K-12 schools. During this month’s presidential debate, American families, students, and teachers had no opportunities to learn about the candidates’ education positions. Moderators did not ask a single question about education. Of similar concern, we have heard little from either candidate about specific policies to support teachers in our nation’s schools. This is particularly troubling given the convincing body of research that teachers are one of the most important school-factors to improving student learning. 

Trump’s agenda, outlined on his campaign’s website, is aimed at ensuring our children have “great teachers” by adopting merit pay and ending teacher tenure. Harris’s plan seems to focus on bolstering teachers unions, such as by ending “union busting.” Delegates at the Democratic National Convention adopted an education platform, endorsed by the vice president, that includes language about improving school working conditions to “make teaching sustainable.” Neither candidate has spoken in any substantive way about recruiting, preparing, and recognizing great teachers.  

In the closing weeks of the election, if both candidates are serious about strengthening the teacher workforce, specific policies, not platitudes, will be critical to strengthening the nation’s teacher workforce. Of course, a U.S. president can’t singlehandedly fix our teacher workforce problems, but they can help to set a national agenda–while initiating some federal action along the way. Here’s what each candidate should consider as they detail their teacher policy proposals:   

First, the two leading candidates should outline a vision for recruiting a high-quality, diverse teacher workforce. Supporting teacher pay should be central here: A recent survey found that low teacher pay prevented otherwise interested college students from considering a career in teaching. Both Harris and Trump should support the idea of a national minimum salary of $60,000 for K–12 public school teachers. Moreover, recognizing that housing is one of the largest expenses for educators, rural and urban local school districts across the country have started to build housing for teachers. These local efforts should inform presidential candidates’ policy priorities by creating an inter-departmental effort between the Department of Housing and Urban Development and Department of Education to develop housing in communities where we need teachers, one of our nation’s indispensable resources. 

Second, great teachers—like great doctors—are not born that way, but developed. There is substantial variation in how the approximately 1,700 colleges and universities, school districts, for-profit and nonprofit organizations prepare future teachers. Recently, the Texas Education Agency placed the state’s largest preparation program, a for-profit online program, on probation for failing to adequately prepare beginning teachers. Across Texas and the nation, for-profit alternative certification enrollment has increased, while enrollment in traditional teacher preparation programs has declined. One ongoing critique of traditional university-based preparation is its emphasis on teaching theories of supporting student learning with less of an understanding about how to apply those theories into practice. Low-quality teacher preparation will not provide our children with the skills to enter the middle class. A recent report published by the National Academy of Education highlights the characteristics of a high-quality teacher preparation program, which include partnerships between preparation programs and school districts and placing teacher education candidates in classrooms of experienced and effective teachers. Such high-quality preparation can be obtained through traditional and alternative preparation programs, but we need federal leadership to establish and enforce these kinds of standards for programs across the country.

Third, like doctors, teachers who have mastered their craft should be able to demonstrate it and be rewarded for it. So, the leading presidential candidates should also have a vision for promoting and supporting great teachers. Such a plan must include a federal grants program that incentivizes states to support teachers to pursue National Board Certification, the gold standard of teacher certification. Similar to doctors, teachers must meet certification requirements to teach in a particular state. And, doctors, like teachers, through a series of rigorous exams, can earn a national board certification to demonstrate their professional expertise. Prior evidence shows that National Board Certified Teachers improve student outcomes when compared to teachers who are not board certified. But here’s the snag: while 80% of doctors in our country are board certified, only 4% of teachers are board certified. We need to encourage more teachers to earn this distinction and then reward them for their mastery, especially when teaching in hard-to-staff areas. States such as Texas, California, and Maryland have created incentive programs for educators to pursue National Board Certification. For teachers working in the highest-need schools, the annual stipends after earning board certification in Texas, California, and Maryland are $9,000, $5,000, and $17,000, respectively. Across red and blue states alike, policymakers have viewed investments in National Board Certification not only as a way to reward great teachers but also as a policy lever to retain teachers in schools where they are needed most. Presidential leadership on this issue will enhance teachers’ status and paychecks while improving access to quality teaching for disadvantaged students.

There are less than 40 days until the U.S. presidential election. Both candidates’ goals to “Make America Great” or to create an “Opportunity Economy” can be actualized by detailing teacher policy proposals to improve K-12 education. It is high time for more specific policies and fewer platitudes from both former President Trump and Vice President Harris.

[redrikki]

Teen Wolf Rewatch 3.04 Unleashed

There's a serial killer in the loose and Kyle is the next victim, lured to the vet's office by his dog's exposure to mistletoe. Stiles, who recently stood over his childhood friend's murdered body, is anxious and catastrophizing, but it's funny because it's Stiles. Scott and Danny tease him until it turns out he's right about Kyle being dead. Stiles launches into full investigation mode, desperate to prevent the next murder. He's clearly done a lot of research into this human sacrifice thing and that leads him to Deaton. The two of them team up with Lydia and learn that two teachers including Harris have been abducted. Turns out Harris is involved, but that plotline dies along with him, at least until the movie.

When they find Kyle's body, Isaac think the werewolf twins did it. Scott refuses officially agree with either of his friends on who done it, but soon joins Isaac in fucking with the twins. The two of them and Allison have big throuple energy as they get locked in closets and mess with bikes. Scott even gets to use the Alpha voice to calm Isaac down after the closet thing for some True Alpha foreshadowing.

Meanwhile, the Alpha Pack are impaling Derek so they can lecturer him. Deucalion seems to think that killing ones betas is like Pringles, once you pop you can't stop. Is he honestly trying to recruit Derek or is he hoping to get Derek to kill Scott pre-ascension? Either way, Derek isn't going to risk having his beta Isaac around to kill. He drives Isaac from the loft in a scene reminiscent of Isaac's last fight with his dad and of course Isaac goes to his new boyfriend, Scott.

Boyd makes an unexpected one-scene appearance to drop some wisdom. I wonder what he told his family/the police about where he was and if Erica's parents know about her. Anyway, Boyd and Kyle were in JROTC. The ROTC is how the military recruits and trains officer candidates while providing a free education. Like Derek, they entice desperate youth into their wars with the power of a promise. Wild how Boyd basically signed up for the same thing twice.