#also the faculty sent out an email about them

[bataranqs]

5 Happy Things

May 13, 2024

Been drinking this expensy chocolate milk that this family from my church makes and it's so insanely good and doesn't trigger my lactose intolerance we're winning

Had manga class todayyyyy

Finished last week's overspilling projects for my Shakespeare course!!!

Texted my mom after waking up quite late and she was like "yay I'm glad you slept well <3" hi that's love

Made pasta with spinach and a new pasta sauce! The new sauce is not good but I had it!

[creamhoodie]

Hot Kettle

synopsis: "Reader is a new teacher at Jujutsu High school. She and Gojo have mutual feelings for each other but she at first thinks he is a player and avoids him. After being snowed in and spending time with each other, they learn more about each other.

A/N:Not sure how I feel about this but I've been working on it for weeks and have writer's block when trying to write anything else.

tags/warnings: NSFW, smut, unprotected sex, fluff, afab reader. Switching perspectives between Gojo & Reader. Flashback scenes written in italics. Other jjk characters mentioned.

word count: 8.2K

Snow flurries fell on the campus of Tokyo Jujutsu High and the ground had frozen into crystals.

You had only been working as a professor here for four months and it was your first winter here. 

Principal Yaga had sent out an email saying that classes were canceled. Of course the students rejoiced, but for faculty members snow days meant faculty meetings. 

You made your way to the designated meeting spot now, your snow boots clicking along the ice as you made your way into the building. 

Upon arrival, you found the room empty. Strange. Surely this had been the designated meeting room as stated in Principle Yaga’s email. 

Perhaps you were early? You had a tendency to arrive notoriously early for meetings and events. No matter, it gave you enough time to pop into the lounge room and heat up your ramen as a substitute for the breakfast you had skipped in order to arrive on time. 

You made your way into the lounge room that was only two doors over. It was also empty, but that was expected given the ghostlike fashion of the building besides your presence. You placed your tote bag down on the table and took out your heatable ramen. Fortunately you had packed a plastic fork. 

That meant the only thing you needed was water. The kettle was out already, strange but there was nothing suspicious about this given that and the toaster were often left out after use and not put away into their assigned cabinets. 

You went to grab it and as you did let out a blood curdling shriek as the white hot pain in your palm and fingers signified it had recently been used. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Oh my god we’re sorry Professor!”

“What do you mean we? I told you to put it away!” 

As your eyes opened, having winced them from the pain, your eyes focused to find three of the students: Megumi fushiguro, Yuiji Itadori, and Nobara Kugisaki.

They were all staring at you with concern and from the mugs they were holding in their hands and their words you pieced together that they were the culprits.

You didn’t have a chance to respond however as footsteps came running over and to add more insult to injury, your fellow faculty members were peering in: Principale Yaga, Mei-Mei, Kento Nanami, and of course dreadfully… Satoru Gojo. 

You felt his eyes watching you underneath his blind fold.

“What happened?” He asked, his voice sounded unusually harsh.

“We wanted to make hot chocolate and we were in a rush because afterwards we were gonna have a snowball fight using our techniques. I guess we didn’t put the kettle away properly and the Professor here got burnt,” Yuji explained for the group. 

His explanation did nothing to dissuade Gojo however.

“And how many times have we told everyone to put the kettle away properly so that this doesn’t happen?” 

By this point, all eyes were on Gojo. He was sounding so stern and angry, nothing like himself. He was usually the most carefree of the adults. 

“Gojo, it’s okay. They didn’t mean to, I should have been more careful,” you said. 

“No it’s not okay,” Gojo said, going up to you now, his thumb wiping away a tear you hadn’t even realized had been shed from the pain. 

Now your face was flushing and you were glad that the onlookers would just take it as embarrassment from the situation not knowing that there was more at play here, that there was history between you and the blind folded man which added to your embarrassment.

“That’s enough. Gojo, would you escort her to Shoko please? She should still be in her office since she hadn’t met with us yet for the meeting,” Principal Yaga said. 

“Can Nanami escort me instead please?” you asked.

You didn’t want to be alone with Gojo, it would only make things more awkward, no right now you needed to be with anyone but him. 

“That’s fine with me, I’ll go with you,” Nanami said, ever the gentleman. 

You gave an apologetic smile to the students as you followed Nanami.

“Oh and Nanami? Relay to Shoko that the meeting is canceled. I’m sure given the morning’s events and the weather that’s the last night anyone wants to do,” Principal Yaga said. 

You felt several eyes watching you as you followed your tan suited escort, but only one pair of those eyes mattered, pairs that you had actively been trying to avoid. 

The thing you enjoyed about Kento Nanami was that he didn’t pry, meaning he wasn’t one to ask invasive questions. 

While others may have asked about Gojo and why he had reacted the way he had, Nanami had only assured you he’d get you there safely and that Shoko has healed far worse. 

He had a calm presence and demeanor, the type that set you completely at ease. That is why though you had only been here a short while he was your favorite coworker.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure this isn’t how you wanted to spend your morning,” you felt the need to apologize to him all the same. 

“It’s no matter. I’m sure you didn’t want to be burnt this morning, but life is full of things we can’t anticipate,” he replied kindly. 

You followed him to a part of the school you hadn’t been before. Luckily you've had the fortune of not having to visit Shoko for healing purposes until now. In a way it was embarrassing as you were sure Nanami had been here for much for dire wounds, battle wounds really from his missions since he was a grade 1 sorcerer. But Nanami didn’t judge, he wasn’t the type to goad or say hurtful things. 

After what felt like forever due to the burning sensation in your hand, you two at last arrived in a wing of the school that seemed more like a hospital with its medical items laid out and its fluorescent light. A figure with long brown hair was slumped in a swivel chair in front of a computer.

“Shoko?” Nanami asked, shaking her shoulder slightly so she’d wake up.

Her eyes fluttered open and as if she could sense it she seemed to know there was a problem.

“What is it? Who needs to be healed?” She asked, but she answered her question upon looking at your tear stained face. 

She stood up and took your hand. Her gaze shifted between you and Nanami, clearly questioning.

“The kids left the hot kettle out and she got burnt,” he explained.

“Ahh,” she said in understanding. 

Your face flushed even more. It was so embarrassing. But Shoko was focused on healing you now and her mind had gone into the place only she and few others knew.

You watched as she worked her magic. You had heard others speak about it in awe but having never witnessed it yourself, it was amazing to see. Your palm and fingers once jaded red were now returned to their baby soft pink, they seemed even more soft than before as if you had just been reborn. Most importantly, there was no pain. Matter of fact if it wasn’t for your current location and Nanami at your side, you would have almost thought you dreamt the whole thing.

“Better?” Shoko asked, her eyes were dim and jaded and you remembered thinking how she always looked sad. 

It had always been strange to you how someone with an ability capable of performing miracles could be so sad but you chalked it up to the fact that healing wounds lost its charm when it was those close to you on the brink of life and death.

“Thank you,” you said as she slumped back into her previous position.

Nanami filled her in on the meeting’s cancellation as she took out a cigarette and lit it. 

The first time you had met Satoru Gojo was in one of the faculty meetings that he had hosted at his place. It was your first faculty meeting in fact, and it had been hosted on your third week at the job.

By then you had met all the others, besides him. 

You had been filled in on the details about him from students to faculty alike and had gathered a mosaic of him from their words: the strongest, childish, intelligent, 

Those were all adjectives that had been used to describe him.

However, nothing had prepared you for when he had asked for you to stay behind once the meeting had been dismissed and everyone else had left.

“You’re new. We haven’t been properly introduced,” he said to you then outstretched his big hand for you to shake.

“I don’t really think you need an introduction. I’ve heard a lot about you,” you said, noticing how he still held your hand in his own despite the shake being far from over.

“And what is it you’ve heard?” He asked in a teasing fashion, his lips curled up at the ends.

“Only that you're the strongest sorcerer, Nanami said you’re childish, the students like you a lot,” you paused.

“What is it?” He probed. 

“I’ve been told you have these eyes that are so vividly blue,” you said, not being able to hide your curiosity.

He chuckled in understanding.

“You want to see them? You can take my blindfold off,” he said. 

At last he released your hand so you were able to do so. You had to stand on your tippy toes and he had bent down to help you as you flipped up the blindfold so it was resting on his forehead. 

You had gasped at the mesmerizing blue that was like no other.

“Like them?” he teased. 

His words had sent a jolt of heat in somewhere you were sure was not appropriate. 

“They are beautiful,” you had found yourself whispering. 

After that encounter, you and Gojo had experienced various flirtatious exchanges. The two of you had only gotten physical once and it had been unexpected. 

You had been cleaning up your classroom, the students having long been dismissed when he had come in.

“Still here?” He teased. 

“I’m not in a big hurry to go home,” you said offhandedly ignoring how his presence next to you, heat radiating off his body was making you nervous. You finished wiping off the chalk board and looked up at him. 

“Lonely at home?” he continued to tease. 

“No,” you said a little too defensively before adding, “I just like being here. You may have been here for a while but I’m still trying to get established.” 

It was true, you had shared it with him in one of your lounge room talks where he had asked you about your background. You were a foreigner that had cursed energy and had taught at a non sorcery university in your home country. Having heard of Jujutsu High and being introduced to Principal Yaga through a mutual connection, the principal had then invited you to come teach at Jujutsu High. 

“That’s right, I’m sorry,” he said, tugging at a strand of your hair.

“Why are you still here anyways?” you asked, turning the question back on him. 

“Because I knew you’d be here,” he answered honestly.

“Me?” you asked dumbfounded. 

He chuckled, stepping forward.

“How long are we gonna do this dance, princess?” he asked, calling you the nickname he had coined for you. 

“What dance?” you asked.

But you knew, of course you knew. All those flirty exchanges, light touches, teasing, and lounge room talks weren’t for anything. 

“That we don’t want each other,” he said simply. 

“And who says I want you?” you asked defensive again. Okay maybe you did want him, but he didn’t have to be so arrogant about it. 

“Hmm. Well what was it you said about my eyes again? ‘They are so beautiful.’ “

You flushed in anger and embarrassment now and tried to push past him, but he held onto you effortlessly by your shoulders. You were pinned against the chalkboard.

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours and your body instantly relaxed, you felt him smile at that. 

He was right of course, even if he had gone about it in the way he had, there was no denying the sexual tension and chemistry between the two of you. 

Giving yourself over to it now, you moaned as his lips moved to your neck, teething slightly at the skin. 

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he groaned into your skin. 

Your hands went to his hair, fisting the soft white locks. 

Nothing else seemed to exist besides you and him. 

“Gojo,” you whined wrapping your legs around his waist and he seemed to know exactly what you needed as he hoisted you up easily and placed you on your desk, notebooks clattering on the floor. 

“Fuck,” he cursed as your long skirt spilled around your thighs revealing your silky skin and damp underwear. 

You bit your lip as his fingers found your clit. You felt like you were in heaven and his name had spilled from your lips over and over again like a prayer. 

Satoru Gojo…

Of course you had wanted him who wouldn’t? He was impossibly handsome, he had truly won the genetic  lottery in more ways than one, and he was so gifted with his fingers that were making you reach new heights even you hadn’t taken yourself to.  

That line of thinking created a problem brewing in your mind: Everyone wanted him.

So what made you different? You were the new girl on the block, and you didn’t know him all that well despite your talks with him. You didn’t know him all that long. Maybe you had been overthinking, but it was that thinking that had taken you out of the mood.

“Gojo stop,” you choked out. 

His movements stilled, hearing the tone in your voice.

“Is something wrong?” He asked. 

You couldn’t exactly tell him your worries as you didn’t want to make things awkward. Besides what were you supposed to say? ‘I’m worried I’m just another one of your quick hook ups?’ You didn’t want to be clingy or weird especially if he just saw this as a casual encounter.

“No, no, everything is fine. I just should be going now it’s getting late,” you rambled straightening yourself up and standing up from the desk. 

You had been grateful you hadn’t seen his eyes as you were sure they were confused.

“Well can I  walk you to your car?” he offered. 

“No, that’s not necessary but thank you for your concern,” you had stated. 

Then you had rushed off. 

Your relationship with Gojo has been rocky ever since. You actively avoided him and he started doing the same. In a way you wondered if you had bruised his ego since he had never been used to rejection. 

Having assured Nanami you would be fine, you had driven yourself home. There was no reason for you to stay on campus given the meeting’s cancellation and the snow day. Moreover, you weren’t up to sticking around because of the morning’s embarrassing events. 

You made your way into your small apartment, and kicked your shoes off.’

When you were about to settle down on your couch and watch some television, the doorbell rang. Perhaps it was Nanami doing a possible checkup on Principal Yaga’s orders? 

You opened the door and found the person you were actively avoiding: Satoru Gojo.

“You forgot this,” he said, holding up your tote bag that you had left behind in the lounge room. 

“Oh, thank you,” you replied, still stunned. You stood there frozen for too long until he cleared his throat.

“It’s kind of cold out here, you know snow day and all,” he said, shivering with emphasis.

Even though it was the last thing you wanted to do, you invited him in. 

“Make yourself comfortable. Do you want anything?” you asked, closing the door behind him and watching as he looked around your living room. 

“No, I’m good. I can make you those noodles you wanted earlier though,” he offered. 

The noodles? Oh yes, the ramen pack. You had forgotten about them. It was endearing in a way that he had even remembered them. 

Before you could answer, he was picking the plastic bowl out of your purse and heading towards the kitchen.

“That’s not really necessary..” you began to protest as you followed him but he cut you off.

“Have you eaten today?”

Your stomach betrayed you, giving a rumble by way of answer. 

He chuckled before saying, “thought so.” You watched as he filled one of the pots with water before placing it on your stove and turning it on. The kettle would have been much more straightforward but given the morning’s events you figured he didn’t want to use it. Once the water heated up enough, it didn’t take too long on account of you having a gas stove, he transferred the dry noodles from their plastic bowl container to the pot.

Watching him in this domestic setting did something to you. Though you couldn’t see his eyes, his face was calm and focused. 

“Watching me?” he teased.

Your face blushed scarlet. 

“You know it’s not really fair that you wear that blindfold around,” you said. After all, it gave him the advantage of being able to catch you gawking at him. You suspected this wasn’t the first time he had noticed. 

“Would you like me to take it off?” He asked innocently. 

Remembering your only other exchange with him that involved his unsheathed eyes, you opted against shaking your head then adding a firm “no” in case his eyes weren’t on you for once. 

All the same, you continued to stand there leaning alongside the counter watching him as he had now taken to stirring the boiling noodles with a fork. After a few minutes of this, he transferred the now ready noodles into one of your bowls. 

“Do you prefer your noodles with broth or drained?” He asked. 

“Drained,” you replied, 

“Me too. I find that too much liquid laps up the flavor,” he said, going to drain it now in your sink. He then added the flavor, stirring it. When it was at last ready, he set it on your kitchen island, beckoning you to come sit. 

Hunger winning out, you did as he had instructed, not even bothering to care that he sat in the seat next to you. 

The noodles were good and just warm enough for you to enjoy and satisfy your hunger. You eagerly stuffed your face forgetting for a moment the man at your side. 

It was only when you finished eating that he at last spoke up.

“I wanna talk to you about what happened between us,” he said. 

Of course you had expected this, but it didn’t make it anymore easy to breach this topic. 

“What is there to talk about?” you asked, deciding to play dumb. 

“The kiss we shared,” he said, turning his body towards you.

He knew damn well it had been more than a simple kiss. If you hadn’t put the brakes on when you had maybe the two of you would have gone all the way in the classroom! 

“I don’t see why we have to discuss it. We kissed, so what? We can move on from it,” you said. 

“But that’s the thing. I can’t move on. I think about it all the time,” he said. There was a unique yearning in his voice, a tone you had never heard from before. At last you turned to face him as well and though his eyes were still hidden there was an expression of sadness on his face. 

“Well I’m sure you kiss people all the time,” you said. In an effort to put some space between the two of you, you stood up and walked away from the kitchen back into the living room, hoping he’d follow so you could direct him to the door. 

“That’s it then? You think I just kiss anyone?” he asked, following you as you had anticipated. His long legs allowed him to catch up to you quickly and he caught your wrist, swiveling you around to face him. “Don’t ignore me. You feel something for me too, I know it.” 

His proximity to you had your breath hitching, it had been a while since you had been this close. 

“Gojo-“ you began to protest.

��Satoru,” he corrected, wanting things to be less formal. 

“Maybe you should get going,” you said but your voice wasn’t as convincing as you’d hoped. 

“You’d really throw me out in the snow like that?” he teased. 

“You’d be fine,” you retorted. 

By now your resistance was waning, despite your better judgment, the scent of his cologne and the feel of his warm body was threatening your resolve. 

He seemed to know that all too well. 

“Let me kiss you again. I’ve missed your lips,” he whispered. 

Your knees buckled a little. 

He bent down, lips brushing against your jawline, the scent of him intoxicating.

It was futile, you wanted him desperately and he knew that. So when you didn’t push him away his lips lingered merely inches from yours, his minty breath in your face, leaving the option to you. 

Giving into your urges, you had only to bend forward, and once you did his lips were on yours. Like before, the passion between the two of you was intense, even more so given the built up frustration from how you had avoided him then. 

His tongue soon found yours and your legs hoisted yourself around his waist. 

“Satoru.. bedroom,” you whimpered. 

He understood, still holding you as you guided him to your bedroom. 

You didn’t have time to feel embarrassed about the plushies you had on your bed despite being a grown woman, as he plopped you down alongside them.

“Lay back,” he commanded. 

You did, but watched as he got on his knees in front of you. 

“Satoru, what are you doing?” you asked, still breathless from the kisses you had exchanged. 

He took his time answering you, a sly grin on his face as his hand caressed your pantyhose clothed thighs that were exposed as your skirt fell in ripples around your waist. 

“I’m gonna make you feel good. The way I wanted to before you left that day,” he said. His hands went up to the top of your waist band, pulling your pantyhose down effortlessly. He gasped at his newfound discovery. “No panties? You really are so shameless.” 

Your face was red.

“I- there was a line with my skirt and the tights are thick,” you stammered, feeling the need to defend your choice of wear. 

“I like it. How often do you go commando under these long skirts of yours?” he probed, fully removing your tights and leaving your legs and sex naked underneath the layers of your skirt. 

“Only when I wear the tights underneath,” you replied.

His hand cupped your heated sex, your arousal leaking into the palm of his hand.

“That’s right you did have some panties on in the classroom that day,” he said recalling. His fingers parted your wet folds. “You think one of these days you could just go completely commando for me? Nothing underneath? Not even your pretty little tights?” 

By this point you kept feeling pangs of pain and your clit throbbing, there was no denying the effect he had on you. 

“Somehow I don’t think that would be appropriate for the classroom,” you stated. 

This only seemed to encourage him more. 

“It’d be fun though. Just think about it,” his hand released your sex. He seemed to have something devious in mind. He came closer to you whispering in your ear. “You and me. The fun we could have. The quickies we could partake in between classes.” 

You’d be lying if you said his words weren’t appealing to you and vivid images of you hoisted against a desk and him shooting his load into you were intruding your mind.

“Satoru…” your voice had an edge to it. One that still remembered why you had put the brakes in between the two of you in the first place. 

He seemed to understand.

“Oh that’s right. You think I do this with just anyone. That I’m something of a player huh?” He asked, and you were surprised to hear offense in his voice. 

“I just don’t know you all that well yet,” you stammered apologetically. 

You felt that it was an almost stupid thing to say given the state the two of you were in. 

“Do you want to know me?” He asked. 

“Yes,” you replied. 

“Good, because I want to know you too,” he said. He sunk back down to his previous position between your legs. He pulled his blindfold down, letting it rest at his neck so his crystal-like eyes were visible. “And right now, I want to know what makes you tick.” 

When Principal Yaga had first told him there would be a new professor from overseas joining them, it hadn’t mattered to him greatly. 

Another teacher? Well that was good. A foreigner? Interesting. 

However, it hadn’t been something he had given much thought to.

So when he first met you at the faulty meeting he had hosted in his apartment, he had been surprised to find out how beautiful you were. You were also young, a little bit younger than him but still so young for someone so well accomplished (yes after your flirtatious encounter where you called his eyes beautiful he had looked you up). 

He must confess, he read your academic articles all thirty of them and he was always finding an excuse to speak to you in the lounge room. 

At last when he hadn’t been able to fight the longing for you anymore, he had waited until after hours, knowing you’d still be on campus. 

“Still here?” He had taunted. 

“I’m not in a big hurry to go home,” you said.

That was interesting to him. Surely a woman like you had someone waiting for her? It was something he had pathetically tried to find the answer to online but had fallen short given your profiles being professional in nature.

Desperate for the answer he continued to tease.

“Lonely at home?” 

God, he could shoot himself in the foot for that one! How incredibly cringe. He was used to getting away with it on account of his good looks, but you were different than most. You didn’t seem to fall easily to his charm. In a way it was humanizing, you didn’t let the veil of his looks and his power get in the way of seeing him for what he was. 

“No. I like being here. You may have been here for a while but I’m still trying to get established.” 

As suspected, you didn’t find his comment charming, answering rather defensively. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he said, tugging a strand of your hair and considering it a good sign when you didn’t shoo him away. 

“What are you still doing here anyways?” You asked him. 

His heart was racing from how your eyes looked up at him and he was (not for the first time) grateful that his blindfold kept him shielded for surely he looked like a lovesick schoolboy.

“Because I knew you’d be here,” he said.

“Me?” 

The way you asked so dumbfounded made his heart ache for you more. 

Yes you, he wanted to tell you, he wanted to tell you just how completely unaware you were of the effect you can have. 

Even more so when you allowed him to kiss you, he felt like he was on cloud nine. Your body had felt soft on him, it was everything he had dreamed about, everything he had allowed himself to feel despite his fragile heart being ever so cautious.

“Gojo stop,” you had said suddenly, and to his horror.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. 

You had only made excuses and ran off leaving his fragile heart to shatter into a million pieces. 

“Fuck, Satoru- you’re so good at this,” you moaned, your back arching as you fell back against the mattress. 

He tongued at your folds, lapping at your clit and your arousal as if he was dehydrated and needed it in order to live. 

His fingers spread you open for him, flashing him with your inner pink, the sight nearly sending him into a frenzy. 

Your hands went to his white hair, gripping the locks and using them as an anchor as his tongue continued to pleasure you. 

Your moans were just as pretty as he had imagined and between that and the taste of you, he was determined to make you orgasm hard. 

It didn’t take long for him to find your sweet spot. You were starting to realize that of his mouth had more uses than just teasing and your toes curled. 

“This is where you’re weak, huh?” he said, sensing it from how your grip on his fingers tightened. You felt him curl his fingers up inside of you, continuing to pleasure that new unlocked spot as he leaned forward tongue still sliding down your sensitive clit. 

“Mm- Satoru I’m close,” you warned.

“I know, I know,” he cooed against your skin. 

Continuing that pace and motions, you felt it arising now, the tell tell signs of orgasm and the adrenaline feeling as if you were falling off a cliff. “That’s it, baby, let it go.” 

And you did, coming down from your high as your fluid flooded his tongue. 

You panted and watched as he lapped you clean, relishing the taste. Then, like before, a devious look rose to his crystal eyes. He came up to you, hovering gently above you, hands on the bed to steady himself.

“You should really taste yourself,” he said. Before giving you time to register what he meant, he kissed you and you moaned against his lips. The taste on his lips was sweet yet metallic and it was yours. It was so lewd, the way you enjoyed it, but again the fire of desire was burning for him so you simply indulged in the passionate makeout.

“Want help with that?” you asked, eyes pointed at the bulge in his pants as the kiss broke apart, salvia still connecting the two of you faintly. 

You swore you saw him blush, but having a new found confidence, you didn’t wait for him to answer, fingers shakily undoing his pants. 

“So eager,” he teased, stepping back to fully shrug the pants and his boxers off. His shirt followed after.

His cock was big, bigger than any you had been with, and the head was just as pink as his lips. A forming bud of precum was visible at the tip.”Like what you see?” 

“Very much so,” you admitted. You were ready for him to sink into you, but an expression of concern overtook his face. 

“I don’t have a condom,” he explained, “I know you think I do this a lot but I don't, I don’t just have them on me.” 

You chewed the inside of your cheek. You weren’t exactly on any birth control right now since it had been a while since you were sexually active yourself, but you didn’t want to turn him down. Plus you were aware of where you were in your cycle so the chances of pregnancy would be slim.

“It’s fine, but I’m gonna need a morning after pill just in case,” you stated. 

He seemed to perk up.

“Does that mean I can spend the night?” He asked. It never ceases to amaze you how someone of his stature could still have such a childlike demeanor. 

Oh what harm could it do? You had already made it this far with him.

“Yes,” you conceded. You tried not to think about the fact that he was still technically a coworker and you intrusively wondered how the students would react if they knew the two of you were engaging in such activities. 

“Hey, what’s going on in that pretty little head?” He asked. 

“Nothing I just, we’re still colleagues,” you said. 

He smiled and lined himself up with you, the tip of his cock fettering your entrance.

“And? Colleagues can’t blow a little steam off together every now and then?” 

You gasped feeling him against your slickness, not in yet but only just, still lingering at your entrance.

“That’s not really helping your case of not doing these things with just anyone,” you said. 

He laughed.

“I can assure you before you I had no need or desire to fuck a colleague,” he said. 

Then at last, he began to sink into you. At first only the delicate pink tip, then an inch, then two more, until the full length was bottomed out inside of you. 

“Oh, you feel so full,” you whispered more as an exclamation to yourself but he heard all the same. 

For him, it has always been a fantasy to fuck you in your work clothing, as he had told you before your long skirts offered the illusion of quick access whenever at his disposal. 

He began to thrust lightly, allowing himself to relish all your warm walls. 

“So sexy,” he praised as his pace began to quicken. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure and you could feel his pulse beating away inside of you. 

It felt natural being under him like this, almost right as if you were meant to be underneath him like this taking every inch of his impressive rod. 

Although you were no stranger to sex at your age, his thrusting made you feel something you never had before. 

“Fuck me back, you’re a big girl aren’t you?” he teased, his mind probably following your line of thinking.His words emboldened you, and your vaginal grip on his cock tightened, and you began to thrust your hips up to meet his pace. 

You craned your neck a little to watch as his cock went in and out.

He caught you looking. 

“So you like to watch, huh?” his voice was heated. God, he was finding out so much about you. You were just as dirty as him, even if you were usually so well composed. 

“Satoru!” you yelped as he easily lifted you up, bodies still connected and dragged you to the restroom. 

“Oh this is perfect,” he whispered. 

Your bathroom had a large full length mirror and another large mirror above the sinks. Here, no matter where you’d look, you’d be able to see him fucking you. 

“Satoru, can I take my clothes off?” you asked, horrified at the idea of your work clothes getting soiled. 

“I have no objection to that,” he said. He placed you against the countertop, and undid your blouse removing it and your bra. 

Then came your skirt. 

Regrettably, for this he had to slide out of you, but it only took a moment. 

“Face the mirror I want you to be able to watch,” he said.

You did, gripping the counter as he slid into you from the back.

This all felt so surreal. 

Had it only been just this morning that you had burnt yourself? You had still been avoiding him then, now he had you bent over in your own bathroom as he thrusted in and out of your vagina raw from behind. 

You supposed this was what fucking a colleague entailed, it was much more chaotic than in the movies. 

Your eyes caught sight of his face, red and sweaty, eyes closed and turning your head to your side, you saw his length going in and out of you from the reflection in the full length mirror. 

His fingers kneaded the flesh of your ass, and you threw your ass back against him, cheeks enveloping his cock.

“Fuck,” he cursed. 

Your shared moans echoed in the bathroom’s acoustics and it only set him off more. His pace quickened and his hands reached around to cup your breasts, squeezing the sensitive nipples. 

You turned your head and your lips found his, all the while his thrusting and you grinding your ass back against him were bringing you both closer to reaching your peak.

“Satoru-“ you warned, but he seemed to understand.

“I know, I know. I’m cumming too,” he panted. 

Breathing heavily, you felt him shoot his load into you as you came on him, fluids dripping to the floor. 

He gave a shaky laugh.

“Erm- I can clean this up. Don’t worry about it. You should go lay down,” he said after using your hand towel to clean in between your legs. 

Mumbling in agreement, you went back to your room. 

Heart beating fast you tried to reconcile with the fact that you just had sex with a colleague and moreover you had agreed for him to stay the night. It wasn’t that you regretted it, Gojo was many things but a bad lay wasn’t one of them. 

You opened your drawer and quickly changed into a matching lounge set. You heard Gojo humming and moving around in the bathroom as he cleaned up. When he came out, he held your clothes in his hands, still naked himself. He placed your clothes on your bed before going to pick his own up and putting them back on, laughing slightly.

“What’s funny?” you asked. 

“You,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. His lower half was covered once again as his boxers and pants came back on. 

“What about me?” You pressed. 

“You’d think after what we just did you wouldn’t be so shy still. It’s cute,” he said, pulling his top on and adjusting it so his v-line was no longer visible. He left his shoes off and when you raised your brows he said “remember I’m staying the night?” 

Of course you remembered. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, shrugging. 

He let out a belly laugh. 

“Why do you keep laughing at me?” you asked, growing frustrated. 

His face softened as he smiled at you fondly. 

“It’s just I don’t think I’ve met someone who is worse at expressing their feelings than me, it’s comforting.” 

Well, he was right in that assessment so you couldn’t help as your lips twitched upwards in a smile of your own. 

If today was going to be his only chance to make a good impression of you, he was going to use it to his full advantage. 

“You know what I always loved to do during snow days? Build a fort and watch movies with hot chocolate.” 

Luckily, you had taken his suggestion well and so he had taken it upon himself to build said fort by maneuvering your furniture and bringing your blankets and pillows over to the living room in front of the tv. 

He was aware of your eyes watching him as he did so. 

“What?” he asked, his hand rubbing the back of his neck self consciously. 

“You’re just different than I expected,” you said genuinely, your voice free of judgment. 

He nodded in understanding, he was used to people having the wrong impression about him. His looks, his talents, which were given to him at birth, all of these were things that shaped how people viewed him. He couldn’t fault you for having thought the same, but it did relieve him that you seemed to be gaining a more comprehensive perspective of him now. 

“I’m gonna make us hot chocolate, you’re still banned from using the kettle after this morning,” he said, making his way to the kitchen and looking through your cupboards. He found the hot chocolate packets and went through the motions of heating up the water again just as he had done for the ramen earlier. 

“Speaking of this morning, you should really apologize to the kids. You were kind of stern with them,” you said, appearing at his side and leaning  against the fridge. 

You looked so beautiful to him in the fluorescent lighting, your lips still puffy from the kisses you had exchanged and your hair tousled. He wanted to freeze this moment and live in it. He could see himself growing old with you and sharing domestic moments such as this. Satoru you poor romantic thing, he thought to himself. He had quite a habit of being a yearner, of letting his feelings consume him. 

It was his biggest flaw.

“Yes, maybe I should. Tomorrow I’ll make sure to do so,” he said. 

He finished preparing the hot chocolate and carrying both mugs he said: “now would you like to choose the first movie?” 

Watching movies with Gojo was peaceful. You each took turns choosing a movie. He preferred comedies and animated movies while you chose cult classics. 

Strangely enough, you felt comfortable with him. His commentary every now and then throughout the movies and the way he laid close to you in the fort, with only your knees brushing past each other occasionally, made you feel like he was trying to put you at ease.

Despite the two of you having sex earlier, he didn’t make any moves to touch you again, and you felt that it was intentional with him leaving the choice up to you. 

After the last movie finished, credits rolling, he turned down the volume before facing you.

“So what’s with you and Nanami?” he asked. 

You could tell from his expression he was trying to seem nonchalant, but his eyes that had remained unblindfolded betrayed him, there was worry in his pretty blues. 

“Nanami? Nothing. He’s just a colleague and I enjoy working with him. Why?” you asked. 

“I just wondered because you chose him to accompany you to see Shoko over me,” he said. There was a long pause before he added, “you know we’re colleagues too.” 

Your face flushed as you understood. 

“I don’t like Nanami like that,” you mumbled, no longer able to meet his eyes. Luckily, he didn’t press you more, your answer being sufficient enough for him. 

You felt him shift besides you until he was no longer on his back but facing towards you. Having had his blindfold still off you were able to notice more of his emotions he usually kept hidden. Now there was a hint of sadness in them, the same sadness you had seen on….

“Satoru, why does Shoko always look sad?” You asked. 

He gave you a wry smile. 

“It’s a long story and I’m sure only Shoko can speak for herself, but I can tell you about it as best as I can.” 

So he did.

He told you the story of three young gifted sorcerers and their ‘blue spring,’ as he had coined the last time the three ever felt a sense of normalcy. The story involved himself, Shoko, and someone named Geto, but mainly it orbited around him and Geto. Gojo told you of the mission they had failed at, to keep a young girl named Riko alive since she was the Star Plasma Vessel. You could tell by how he spoke of it that he felt largely responsible, especially since he hadn’t rested as much as he should have. 

“But that wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have possibly known about Toji and he was strategic so you’d never see him coming,” you said. 

“Maybe but it’s my fault for not noticing after how Geto changed. It affected him more than me in a way because of his ability to absorb curses. All that negative energy and the way it made him feel especially after he was jaded by the fact that non sorcerers couldn’t care less about sorcerers who protect them.”

Feeling that this was the first time he had opened up about this, you turned your body to face him as well and took his hand in your own squeezing it for support. 

“Maybe you didn’t notice it because he kept it to himself? You can’t fault yourself for that,” you said.

“Or maybe he didn’t tell me because of who I am, who I was born into being and my abilities. You know I’ve never known what it’s like to feel weak to feel truly powerless? Sometimes I don’t even feel human.” 

You felt a twinge of guilt for having thought he was some sort of womanizer, after what he had told you, that seemed so far out from the truth. It was clear he wore his heart on his sleeve and that it was his nature but he was guarded, even felt isolated because of the magnitude of his strength.

“I don’t think that’s fully true. Maybe in terms of power and your cursed energy but what you described: regret, guilt, and loneliness. All those things are very human,” you said. He smiled at you, and it reached his eyes so you figured your words had been of some comfort to him. 

“In a way Shoko probably feels more regret than I do, though I can’t be certain,” he explained to address your original question. 

“How so?” you asked. 

“Shoko’s ability is to heal. Curses destroy, people get hurt, and she heals. It is the same over and over and after a while you can start to wonder if there’s a point, if there is an end to the cycle.”

“Just like Geto did,” you finished for him, making the connection. 

He nodded. 

You laid there in silence for a while, listening to the gentle sound of his breathing. 

“Why me?” you asked, finally asking the question that has been the source of your previous resistance to him. 

“You’re beautiful, I thought so the moment I saw you. In truth it was after reading your published articles that I wanted to know you more. I felt like you’d understand me. You know your article analyzing Shakespeare's King Henry?” 

You nodded. How could you forget? It had been a pain to publish through all the hurdles of academia. 

“There was one line from the play you wrote about and it really stuck with me,” he said. He waited as if he wanted you to guess which line it was, and instinctively you knew.

“Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.”

You don’t remember falling asleep or making it to your bed but when you wake up with the warmth of the sunlight kissing your face you immediately sit up as you remember the previous day's events. Your blankets having been used for the fort were draped back around you. 

A glance at your bedside tells you that Gojo had been to the store already, the morning after pill box sitting there waiting for you to take with a glass of water next to it. You go through the motions of taking it and then follow the scent of bacon and eggs to your kitchen. 

Gojo is there, cooking breakfast and his blindfold is back on. 

“Good morning,” he says, seeing you linger at the entrance. 

“Satoru, what time is it? It’s so bright out,” you asked, going to sit at the kitchen island. 

“A little past noon. Shhh don’t worry. Classes are canceled for today again so I turned your alarm off,” he said, setting a plate of food in front of you alongside a cup of orange juice.

“I don’t remember falling asleep,” you said, biting into the fat of the bacon. 

He laughed.

“Yeah you went out like a light. I think it’s my fault we spent the whole day watching movies and I trauma dumped on you,” he said. 

He sat down next to you with his own plate of food and orange juice. 

At his words, you briefly remember strong arms carrying you to bed, lingering lips on your forehead and a gentle kiss on your skin. 

“Did you sleep here last night?” you asked him remembering how he had wanted to spend the night with you.

“I did. I slept on the couch. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he explained. You nodded, yet a part of you was worried. Would you two go back to formalities? After everything the two of you had done and shared yesterday you couldn’t phantom that possibility. Fortunately he felt the same way. 

“Listen, the kids told me they are gonna have another snowball fight today before all the snow melts up. They asked me if I wanna join and I want you to come with me,” he said. 

You finished eating and looked at him. 

“I’d like that,” you replied. 

His hand reached for yours and he interlocked the fingers with you. 

“I want to be your man, if you’ll have me. I know we’re still getting to know each other but I can see myself spending forever with you,” he said, his cheeks were rosy.

“I want to be with you too. Forever is a long time,” you said. 

“I know so let’s start with now and we’ll lead our way into forever,” he said. 

When he leaned forward to kiss you, you didn’t deny him, savoring the taste of him and bacon grease. 

[amathslutsguidetofandom]

Infinite Solutions - 1

PAIRINGS: Law!Professor!Andy Barber x Math!Professor!Reader

SUMMARY: MIT is famously known for its high level of education. What happens if it's not only filled with knowledge? What if it is also filled with confusion? Confusion of a new, hard-working Mathematics professor? A professor who might be falling in love with her fellow co-worker? What if that co-worker was in the Law faculty? What if that Law professor is Andrew "Andy" Barber?

WARNINGS: Swearing (if you squint).

WORD COUNT: 1,905

ENJOY!

"Shit!" You feel the puddle soak your new, expensive black slacks. Swearing at your recklessness, you ignore the mishap and continue to walk on the cobblestone. The Massachusetts chill is cooler than usual, and that’s why you have your coffee in hand. The sip you take instantly warms and floods your entire being with comfort.

You see students sitting on the lawn with textbooks and papers surrounding them like an iron fence; you lightly smile at the reminder of how you were in their exact position and place when you were in your undergrad.

MIT is filled to the brim with students as they walk to their respective classes. You see the building of your destination, and you trek towards it. The feeling of your wet pant leg sticking to your skin is something that you were not really into, but at this point, you really don’t care. You were going to be late if you pay any more attention to that mistake.

You push open the doors and walk in and make your way to an office you used to frequent back in your young adulthood.

-------

"I must say, that when I got your application, I was quite shocked," Schmidt says from his seat with a light smile on his face. You give him one of your downwards smiles, “I can assure you, Mr. Schmidt, sending my application in was something I thought I never had to do. I mean, it was an arbitrary decision; I wasn’t really thinking about it when I sent it in.”

He laughs at your response before taking a sip from his coffee. "And please, call me Tobias," the German mathematician replies kindly before gathering some papers on his desk and standing, and you follow suit. "Let me show you to your office; I heard it has one of the greatest views," he opens the door and lets you go ahead first.

The halls of the building were old and gave you some sort of idea of how much mathematical knowledge has soaked into its walls over the years. You used to walk these halls all the time, use some of their empty classrooms all alone, and solve the most complex problems on their blackboards.

Now, you’re here walking beside your boss, the Dean. But in a previous life, that was your bachelor's, he was your first-year Multivariable Calculus professor.

The little journey to your new workspace isn’t long, but it consisted of you and Tobias chatting in the first half. “If I may, may I ask what happened over there,” he points at the wet splotch on your pant leg. You shake your head and wave him off, “a long story you do not want to listen to, I assure you.” The rest of the walk is just the two of you recollecting about your time back when you were an undergrad.

“You used to send emails at 3 am,” he says with a throaty chuckle. You widen your eyes as you remember what type of student you were. “Oh dear, I did, didn’t I?” You both share a laugh until he stops in front of a dark oak door.

"Well, here we are," he smiles warmly and unlocks the door with a key before handing it to you. You nod your thanks and follow him inside when he opens the door.

When he mentioned that the view was going to be gorgeous, you thought he was overstating it. But now that you are here, and you are looking out of the window with your eyes. You are stunned.

“And I know how much you love the blackboards, so I recommended them to book this office, specifically, for you,” he states before setting the papers he’s carrying on the, your, desk.

You look at him confused, then see the blackboard attached to the wall opposite your window. God, you think you could die at ease now. Your desk sits in the space between the window and the blackboard.

There are metal drawers at two corners of the room, and lamps situated on top of them illuminating the room in a decent glow. “This—” you scoff shockingly, “this is amazing, it’s literally more than I could ask for.” The 50-something man chuckles and smiles at your reaction. “Welcome to the School of Mathematics, Professor.”

-------

You type furiously at your keyboard, the monitor taking in your input as you type the last of the lecture notes for week 5. Finally, you click on the period.

Sighing, you lean back and stretch your arms. Your back tenses as you finally straighten your posture from the hunched position you were in.

The clock above your door shows that it's half to midnight. You do a few finishing touches to your notes before posting it on the website so the keener few of the students can get their studying done.

At the end of it all, you shut down your desktop and get your stuff packed. Your phone pings as you receive messages from friends and family congratulating you and liking your post on Instagram.

The picture you posted was of the view you had from your desk, and it really was Pinterest-worthy, so you decided why not and post it on social media.

You leave your office and lock it before exiting the building and returning to the Cambridge chilling weather.

-------

You're nervous.

Really, really nervous.

It’s the first day of classes, and students are already starting to file in. You thought there would only be a handful at your 8 AM class, but here you are, seeing that the whole class is full.

The hand on your watch strikes 8 AM, and you look up and see all the different types of students waiting for you to start the class.

Taking in a deep breath, you adjust the microphone that’s clipped on your navy silk blouse and switch it on. Then you rub your hands together before walking to stand in front of the blackboard.

“Morning everyone!” You start with a bright smile on your face. “I’ll be your professor for this unit, for this semester.” You tell the class your name and what title you prefer to be called. “You really don’t have to call me Professor; you can call me by my first name. I’m not that much of a pain in the ass,” the majority of the class chuckles at your swearing.

“Welcome to Multivariable Calculus (ADVANCED),” your grin widens, and you rub your hands down your thighs. “It really isn’t for the faint-hearted,” you state with a slightly serious expression.

“But you can push through if you put in the hard work. Mathematics is a beautiful subject; it’s one of the few technical subjects where you can actually express your creativity and think in so many different ways to come to one answer,” you talk with your hands as you talk about the subject you're most passionate about.

“So, really do not be scared. Just put in the hard work, and if you do feel like you're falling behind, please, please, please contact me or the TAs that are assigned to this unit. We are here to help you with any mathematical problems you have,” you smile reassuringly, and you smile even wider when you see some of the students nod at your words.

“Alright, before we get started, do any of you have any questions about the unit or in general?” you ask before crossing your arms and adjusting the microphone a bit.

A lanky, you assume, first-year student raises his arm immediately after you asked that question. You look at him with a smile. “Yes?”

“Um, you are—” he says your full name in a questioning tone, as though waiting for you to correct him. You furrow your brows a bit but maintain a small smile. “Uh, yeah, that would be me.”

His eyes brighten a bit, and he asks a follow-up question. “You worked for NASA for three years, right? You were the main mathematician that calculated the landing trajectory and coordinates of the latest Mars rover.”

You are speechless; you thought that you’d be able to leave that life of yours behind you. “Uh, yeah, th-that’s true,” you answer with a pursed smile.

“Alright, any other questions?” you pointedly try not to look at the same student, and no one raises their hand. You clap your hands. “Alright, let's get started.”

-------

You look at your watch and see that two hours have gone by quickly. “Alright, I think I must wrap up in a minute. So, just a few late things,” you pause and look back at everyone and face your back to the used blackboard.

“Please do the practice questions; they really are helpful. And if you do have any questions, please either email me or any of the TAs, and we will reply. Just give us at least twenty-four hours to reply,” you smile and cross your arms.

“Ok, I think that’ll be it for today. Have a good one, y’all,” you nod and smile as you see your students start to flood out of the lecture theatre.

A few students line up to ask you a few questions about today's content, and you happily answer them and make sure that your explanations are detailed and clear for them to understand.

Soon, you are packing your stuff and wiping your writings off the blackboard. You switch off all the electronics, then finally the lights, before walking out of the classroom.

-------

It’s the end of the workday; you taught a total of three classes. And for each of them, you were equally enthusiastic about enlightening the minds of everyone present in the room with you.

You do your final routine of closing your office. You are quite happy with how today turned out; a few students took advantage of your office hours and asked you a lot of advanced questions, which tickled your brain in a really fun way.

You finally lock the door of your office and adjust the strap of your messenger bag over your shoulder.

You exit the building and head down the stairs. As you do, you hear someone call out your name.

You stop in your tracks as you sort of recognize the voice. You turn and see a 6’3 man jogging to catch up to you. His hair is the same since you first met him, his beard is much fuller, and his eyes. His eyes have always been the bluest you’ve ever seen.

But he's broader, stronger, and much taller.

“Oh gosh, it really is you, Hey! I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, you look different, but the same,” he chuckles as he pulls you into a hug. You hug him back, but you’re still in shock.

It’s been years since you both have seen the other.

“God, the last time I saw you, you were on TV,” he scoffs and laughs at the same time. “You were wearing the NASA uniform and giving that speech about your work,” he smiles at you so brightly; you think it’s the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen.

When did he get so handsome?

You just nod to whatever he’s saying; you seriously don’t think you can speak right now.

“How are you?” he smiles, gripping harder onto his briefcase as he waits for you to answer. And you smile.

“I’m well, Andy.”

🎀🎀🎀

TAGLIST <3: @sarahdonald87 , @yiiiikesmish , @jamneuromain

Here we are babes, with the first chapter of Infinite Solutions.

Took a while, but we made it. 😌😌😌

Again, if you want to be tagged, please comment so I can keep a list my loves.🤗🤗🤗

Till' then

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

[kynimdraws]

INFO POST

Name: Kylee (they/them). 30+

A totally normal Korean American mostly known for my drawings, specifically my Pokemon nuzlocke comics. But I will talk about other things on occasion because I do have periods of being fixated on certain topics. I also am a doctor!

Interests: Pokemon, League of Legends (everything except the game lmao), Fire Emblem, Advance Wars, Animal Crossing, Mother series, Korean history/culture, character design

General FYIs: 

General inquiries/commission work/etc should be sent thru kynimdraws [at] gmail [dot] com! Tumblr messaging/asks/etc is not 100% reliable

I will not follow NSFW accounts but I am fine talking/interacting with them. There may be suggestive shitposting but I like keeping my content on the SFW side

I am VERY picky about who I follow/interact with online. Fandom content in particular is a minefield for me aka I have many things I dislike and don’t want to see, even if it might be a popular thing in media that I otherwise enjoy. Therefore, I will unfollow/block/mute liberally. There are times I accidentally block a blog bc I mistake them for bots. So if you got hit with that, just send me an ask or email me

I am very open about what I like and dislike, and none of those things are a direct attack on your sensibilities. I have never gone out of my way to directly send hate or whatever have you if I end up seeing shit I don’t like. My complaints in my little online space ain't a personal attack on you.

My ask/submission box/DMs  are open for criticisms if you have any issues you want to resolve in private. No one is perfect and I may have done ignorant shit that needs to be pointed out. I have deleted or edited posts in the past if people tell me what I did wrong. PS I get that some of my stuff may upset you, but try to act civil when pointing shit out please.

I try to tag all my things whenever I can. Again, send me a message if anything bothers you. I am all for good debate but if you send me excessive hate or threats bc I have different opinions about matters that are trivial, I will block/delete them.

If you wish to use any of my hcs, please credit me. And if you are comfortable with it, send me the works so I can check them out! Or @ me if that is easier.

---

FIRE EMBLEM FYI: Specifically for 3Houses/3Hopes because I need a separate one for this franchise specificially given how many crazy things I got due to being involved in this fanbase via my fanworks:

DO NOT try to convince me to like or tolerate Byleth/student ships, ESPECIALLY the ones with the lords (aka CIaude, Dimitri, EdeIgard). I already summarized why I don’t like FE3H Byleth ships with student chars here. While the spinoff game FEW3H has now removed that teacher/student problematic situation, the fandom keeps putting the FE3H elements into the FEW3H fanworks (i.e. remembering Byleth from “another life” trope)...so no thanks!! DO NOT SHOW ME IT!!!

As for the Byleth ships with faculty members, my response is here so don’t try to bait me about that topic either thanks.

I do not care whom you ingame S-support. 3Houses limits the dating-sim part of the game to that character, so I cannot care less about how you play the game. The main issue I have is when people treat Byleth the “character” as a legit ship material when I personally think they are a cool character ruined by fans who are too obsessed with badly executed self insert otome tropes bc they self-project super hard onto them. Just to be clear, any FE3H or FEW3H OC/Canon >>>>>>Byleth ships personally. Even Byleth-sonas that remove the teacher/student aspects are better than canon FE3H!Byleth

Please don't drag FE VA statements as some sort of “gotcha” on my opinions like this post here. IDC what other people prefer with ship shit, that’s their problem and not mine. I am not gonna bother them about it. So don’t bother ME about it.

---

Links to check out:

Myths of Unova + Episode Grey (Pkmn White/White2 Comic)

Tales of Sinnoh (Pkmn Diamond Comic)

Art Site (Portfolio)

Twitter 

Instagram 

[strywoven]

hello all ! i've returned to apologize for the lack of activity / presence due to the rigor of school ( hopefully this will change with summer break ) . i've decided that , rather than updating you sporadically every so often that maybe it would be more organized to do quarterly updates ? so , every 4 weeks through my term , i'll pop in and let you all know what's what. does that sound good ? here we go !

i really only have a few things worth mentioning , but i feel like you might get a kick out of them !

i made the dean's list after just one semester ! to follow this achievement , just this week i received a letter from the faculty that i've been invited the join the Psi Chi honors society for psychology students. this is all totally unexpected ! they're also considering me for a leadership position , even as a starting undergrad. after telling my family , they said , "well what's next ? being accepted into MENSA ?" to which i laughed in their face ( not to be rude , but because that's a bit above my pay-grade methinks ) .

i've made a rapport with my professors ; especially my moral theology professor whom i love to hold after class and talk to periodically. just recently we got into a debate over happiness v. satisfaction and if there can be "too much virtue" . when he began his response with , "well , according to the Christian tradition--" i interjected sardonically with , "oh , the CHRISTIAN TRADITION !" to which he started laughing. it's a great time , we keep each other amused , is what i'm saying. he's also married to a psychiatrist and made the joke that he hopes i won't psychoanalyze him.

my history professor has , for 3 weeks , been only calling me by my surname. i don't know why , because he can see my full name printed on every post i make. when i sent him an email he wrote back , "i must apologize , i think i've been calling you by the wrong name." oh , have you ? hm. what funny guy.

and , there's some stuff going on behind the scenes that have me a bit ... uneasy. but i'm not one to post about it here. overall , though , i think we're doing okay ! :) and as usual , please feel free to reach out in the meanwhile , even if i'm a bit distant or slow to reply. i - like a few of my friends here - am making a shift towards being more plot-focused for interactions , so i would love to talk to you guys more about things !

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Zack K. De Piero

Published: Jun 29, 2023

A so-called antiracist work environment was, actually, a hostile work environment

I’m a white writing professor, and apparently, that’s a problem. That was the unmistakable message sent to me at Penn State University – and that’s why I’m suing them.

In November 2020 – nearly half a year after George Floyd’s murder – I was subjected to a “White Teachers Are a Problem” video for a monthly professional development meeting for writing faculty. Its featured speaker, Asao Inoue, is a self-described antiracist practitioner. Not an obscure one, either: About a year prior, Inoue gave the Chair’s Address at a prestigious writing studies research conference – the same field in which I earned my Ph.D. – where he declared, “White people can perpetuate White supremacy by being present [...] Your body perpetuates racism.”

At the heart of Inoue’s appalling comments is the baseless attribution of negative characteristics to a particular race. Inside radical academic bubbles, that might be applauded; in the real world, that’s called discrimination. And it’s illegal. When discrimination enters the workplace, depending on its frequency and intensity, citizens can file a hostile work environment lawsuit against their employer.

At my Abington campus, my direct supervisor pushed an aggressive “antiracism” campaign through private emails and monthly meetings. She laid the groundwork by echoing a colleague’s stance that “reverse racism isn’t racism,” thereby abandoning cherished human rights principles. “[R]acist structures are quite real in assessment and elsewhere regardless of [anybody’s] good intentions,” she claimed. “Racism is in the results if the results draw a color line.” Later, citing a “Black Linguistic Justice!” resolution from an increasingly politicized research organization, my supervisor issued two directives: “assure that black students can find success in our classrooms” and “assure that all students see that white supremacy manifests itself in language and in writing pedagogy.” 

Translation: the English language is racist, teaching writing is racist, and grading black students by consistent standards is racist.

Tough spot if you’re a white writing instructor and one of your black students doesn’t submit a big paper. Even tougher if you work at a “majority minority” campus: out of 20 undergraduate campuses across the Penn State system, to its credit, Abington is the only with a majority of minority students. But the toughest position goes to every black student in this environment – an educator seems to believe they’re incapable of achieving academic success on their own merit.

Misguided as my supervisor was, she wasn’t just one rogue professor in the bunch. Antiracism fever ran rampant through the school’s institutional culture. To commemorate Juneteenth 2020, Abington’s DEI director told us to “Stop being afraid of your own internalized white supremacy” and to “Hold other white people accountable.” That same week, amidst faculty panic over a masked-up return to campus, one colleague invoked “history and white male privilege” to forecast, without discernible evidence, “One can already see a mile away that there will be some who resist wearing masks, etc. Such resistance is also more likely to be led by white males and in classrooms taught by women and people of color.”

In September 2021, I complied with my state-mandated duty to report bias of these (and other) incidents.  The Penn State Affirmative Action Office summoned me into a Zoom meeting where its associate director informed me, “There is a problem with the White race” then directed me to continue attending antiracist workshops “until you get it.”

The next antiracist workshop was titled, "The Myth of the Colorblind Writing Classroom: White Instructors Confront White Privilege in Their Classrooms." During this meeting, my supervisor provided a quote: "Without attending to issues of inequity and particularly the role race [plays] in constructing social inequities, we remain unaware of and thereby unwittingly reproduce racist discourses and practices in our classrooms.” As the target audience for this message, I sensed that I’d soon get accused of racism for holding my students to reasonable (and necessary) standards – I could feel my $53,000/year, non-tenured and non-unionized job hanging in the balance. So, I asked for examples of how I could bring equity into my classroom and what this actually looked like in practice.

Rather than help me to “get it,” the Affirmative Action Office deemed my questions to be evidence of bullying and harassment. Yet, my supervisor’s years-long actions were “in line with the Campus Strategic Plan.” Human Resources asked me to sign a performance reprimand, then Penn State inserted those charges into my annual performance review.

Now I’m fighting back. With a Right-to-Sue letter from the Department of Justice, it’s time for Penn State to account for real racial discrimination, harassment, and retaliation. I’ve got the support of Allen Harris Law and a nonpartisan civil rights group, the Foundation Against Intolerance and Racism.

“Antiracism” isn’t quite the right term to describe the performative activism that’s happening across academia and corporate America. Let’s call this hustle what it is: plain and simple, racism. And just like racism, the so-called antiracist movement threatens everything in its path: freedom of speech, due process, healthy workplace relationships, professional excellence, academic rigor, and the psychological welfare of teachers and students alike.

Zack De Piero was employed by Penn State University - Abington College as an assistant teaching professor of English and composition from 2018-2022. He has a Ph.D. in education from the University of California Santa Barbara, where he studied the teaching and learning of postsecondary writing. His personal views in this piece do not reflect those of his current employer, Northampton Community College.

Zack De Piero, PhD began working at Pennsylvania State University in August of 2018 as an English writing professor at the Abington campus. 

Almost immediately upon the outset of his employment, Professor De Piero noticed a race-essentialism focus, which he feared would be harmful to his students, a majority of which were from minority backgrounds and ethnicities. 

Professor De Piero was required to attend professional development meetings to view videos such as “White Teachers Are a Problem”, and was directed to “assure that all students see that white supremacy manifests itself in language and in writing pedagogy.”  Incidents like these made it clear that Penn State harbored a bias against him based on his skin color. So he took the prescribed course of action and filed a bias report.  The Penn State Affirmative Action Office quickly called Professor De Piero into a Zoom meeting where its Associate Director informed him that, “There is a problem with the White race” then directed him to continue attending antiracist workshops “until you get it.” 

It became impossible for Professor De Piero to effectively perform his job duties. In August 2021, he was forced to leave a job he had prized and students he cared for deeply. 

Professor De Piero has now filed suit against Penn State in federal court, alleging violations of his civil rights under federal and Pennsylvania law. 

Professor De Piero is represented by FAIR Network Attorneys Michael Allen and Samantha Harris of Allen Harris Law.

==

It's a cult.

The only thing that will turn around this insanity is suing the crap out of them.

[naturalrights-retard]

He's Assoc. Dean of the MD program at University of Toronto. Is this the role model for doctors at U of T?!? Will any of the doctors at U of T speak out about this? Or will they all remain silent?

Executive summary

In Canada, if you don’t follow the recommendations of the public health authorities like the Ontario Ministry of Health, the College of Physicians and Surgeons of Ontario (CPSO) will try to take away your license to practice medicine.

Assisting them in that process is none other than Dr. Marcus Law, Associate Dean of the MD program at the University of Toronto in Canada. Dr. Law is the top officer for the MD program which is one of the largest MD programs in Canada.

Dr. Law agrees with the CPSO that requiring doctors to follow guidelines is more important than patient outcomes. Law investigates non-compliant physicians and writes them up if they don’t comply. Patient outcomes are irrelevant.

What this means is that doctors who disobey directives, even if they achieve perfect patient outcomes, can have their license to practice medicine revoked.

Does the University of Toronto faculty agree with this priority? I sure don’t. Medicine should be all about patient outcomes, not following orders.

Introduction

Recently I sent the following email to Dr. Law with three easy questions:

I’m a journalist with 1M followers worldwide. I have three questions for you I’m hoping to get your answer on:

Is physician compliance with local health directives more important than patient outcomes? So if a doctor A follows Ontario health protocols and 10% of his patients die and doctor B doesn’t follow protocols and has 0% deaths, do you believe the best action is to recommend that doctor B’s license to practice medicine be revoked?

Can you explain why the COVID hospitalization rate in Ontario increased 31% in 2022 while the COVID death rate increased by 39%? Weren’t the vaccines supposed to do the opposite?

The health authorities worldwide refuse to make the death and vaccination records public in order to do a proper epidemiological study that would show whether the vaccines are safe or not. Do you believe in data transparency or do you believe that withholding the data and keeping it secret (and unanalyzed) leads to better health outcomes? If it is the latter, do you have a reference for that in the medical literature? I’m anxious to see it! And if you do believe in data transparency, can you describe what efforts you have personally made to champion this?

Thanks!

-steve

Dr. Law chose to ignore all my questions.

Is that what leaders of the medical community do? Duck questions? Is this the model of behavior for doctors to follow to duck questions that you don’t want to answer?

In Dr. Law’s view, if you don’t do what “they say” you should have your license revoked even if your patient outcomes are superior compared to physicians that toe the line.

Basically, doctors need to do as they are told, not treat the patient to the best of your ability.

Is this the kind of medicine that they teach at University of Toronto?

Dr. Law’s response to my article

After I wrote this article, I sent it to Dr. Law for comment.

That was four days ago. I also emailed his assistant.

It seems they are fine with my article, so there you go.

Dr. Law should stripped of his position as Associate Dean

In my opinion, medicine should be about patient outcomes. That should be the only thing that matters.

Anyone who prioritizes following orders over patient outcomes should not be allowed to practice medicine. They are not serving their patients.

Appointing such individuals as an associate dean is beyond ludicrous.

If the University of Toronto doesn’t take appropriate action to relieve him of his position as Associate Dean, I believe it will reflect very badly upon the university and that medical students should consider enrolling elsewhere where patient outcomes are prioritized over “following orders.”

Summary

If you think society benefits by grooming robot physicians who do what they are told, Marcus Law is your man. You need not take any action.

On the other hand, if you disagree, …

Please take action by contacting Dr. Law’s boss

If you think Marcus Law is a disgrace, you may wish to contact his boss by email or phone here and let him know politely what you think of Dr. Law and whether he will take any action with respect to Dr. Law. I wrote that I hoped the Dean would read the article, that I thought Dr. Law was a disgrace to his profession and should be moved into a position that is a better fit to his beliefs.

It only takes 2 minutes. We need to hold these people accountable.

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary87

12/7-8/2023

thursday - friday

“Did you say the stars were worlds, Tess?" "Yes." "All like ours?" "I don't know, but I think so. They sometimes seem to be like the apples on our stubbard-tree. Most of them splendid and sound - a few blighted." "Which do we live on - a splendid one or a blighted one?" "A blighted one.” - Thomas Hardy, Tess of the D'Urbervilles

as my girlfriend was hiding from being shot, she was hiding in the dark with her colleague, she checked her email because as people were unsure if the shooting was still taking place, or even that the man had been shot by police, someone who must have had the alert, and had access, to the registry of everyone teaching interdisciplinary studies, their emails, to send this message (credit to roberto lovato on twitter):

she did not receive this email, instead she had received one saying that the landlord is not going to be renewing any leases at this apartment complex, and that we will have to move by march.

the shooter was eventually shot by police, but no one knew for sure if it was multiple people. this was circulating, sent to me by my cousin:

he told me to listen to the police scanner, so i did. they were clearing every room, slowly, it took them hours to get to where my gf was, and along the way, anyone who stepped out, anyone who tried to flee, was pointed at with a rifle, held up by pigs, basically. the terrorism did not ever end for any of them, all at the brink of pissing themselves because they didn't want to scare a police officer and get killed. one of my gf's colleagues had a rifle pointed at him while he was trying to go piss, and they called him a straggler, and told him to fuck off, basically.

there was, simultaneous to the shooting, someone being arrested in a hotel, near campus, this seemed related to people online i think, but i never got a clear vision of what that was. all there is now, is one dead shooter, only attacking the business school building, specifically hunting down faculty after being told they would not hire him. he also sent out poisonous letters, it seems, to faculty of old schools he worked at, and places that also refused to hire him. he posted the content of the letters online. they aren't worth reproducing, i guess, they are wildly misogynistic, at the same rate, he seems to have been driven insane by academia, and pushed towards reactionary tendencies by being useless to help anyone really or accomplish anything in terms of making it not a special kind of hell. he accuses multiple people of fucking their students, he calls himself a genius constantly, he is paranoid of marxists, and on his website he also has a lot of writing re: conspiracy theories, he liked alex jones. overall, he was terrified and disgusted. he believed people he worked with were doing things like seeing child prostitutes in thailand, using work resources for csa materials. i don't know how much of that is paranoia directed at someone who might have been gay (this kind of accusation is common to level at gay people, as we see especially now), he even accused who i assume might have been lesbian coworkers of having their students give them head, or if this is somehow, a little real. i know these things do happen, teachers using their students. favors for sex between faculty, too. incapable of confronting the material causes of the hell we are in (actually dealing w/ marx intellectually/trying to understand) this particular business teacher/economist doubled down on the capitalist fantasy of meritocracies and conspiracy to account for his failings.

there is little sympathy, but there's something unpleasantly complicated about how he got to where he got. he was desperate for work, to cling to a life i guess. he took issue, and tried to kill faculty in the business school.

the police relocated many students out of their dorms, into a giant stadium, i don't know why, i guess to hunt for any potential other gunmen.

we saw my friends last night, after all of this, and we did fun stuff, but this other shit is still here, the unsurety of our housing, the guns, the police, but whatever i guess, right.

it's crazy seeing parts of the world act like this is all unreal. there is a massive amount of faith in the hyperreal, which maintains its existence, i wonder if baudrillard ever mentioned that. i don't recall, but in the semantic processes, the image making, the visions, the map that exceeds the territory, or the map which gifts us our territory, there is massive faith in those laws and processes, the positivity always, a super-ideal reality, there is only the heavensent, and so, tragedy, horror, abjection, are either absorbed as highly intentional events which seek to make something of humanity, or untrue totally. horror becomes either plan, god, or nothing at all.

everything defused, and at the center, the police managing, keep information blurry, they themselves not wanting to believe anything other than the activity they are engaged in is helpful, problems are imagined to keep the policing going, upwards, upwards, upwards. they do not realize it is all death, sinking into static images forever, no great upheavals, even the shooter is under this order, he doesn't realize that this is what he hates.

anyway, anyway, anyway, i don't know.

i don't think we live in a place where people are supposed to be, if you care about anything, there is only a terrible grinding, and not knowing. i've had nightmare about my girlfriend being killed like that. i'm so dependent on her. i don't know what i'd do. i don't like the world, i think maybe, i can admit, i don't like a lot of people. it's awful to say, i think. but everything is going to make me sick. hearing about teachers trying to keep school running like normal are so disgusting, and idiotic. the normal cannot disappear. people dying just has to be normal. there is no war on the public, there never was, new ways to die, urban hazards, there is nothing to see other than antibiotic responses to disease, and it's okay to see it.

the rodeo is in town, as she was taken to the stadium, she was taken thru barbed wire, and led in a snake-shaped path or something by a guy in army gear with an ar15, probably, and ended up somewhere in front of a barbecue food truck. there were cowboys milling around. as people were hiding in the dark i was watching the horses from our window, and the alarm and its robotic voice said words, they weren't even scared of it anymore, no whinnying. nothing.

it woke me up, i didn't think it could be that, my girlfriend told me it was and i didn't even ask if it was what i thought it could be. i don't know. she was in the dark, her colleagues argued, some at least, they were all horrified about this happening. obviously. nothing will happen, though. we are all going to collectively deal with the fact, and forced to act like this is not a fact, creating a quiet misery that we will either forget or use as staging grounds for a horrible kind of birth, of what i can hardly say, tumorous sadness i guess, that we now live in a world where this will never be taken back, and that there is no response possible, at least at the level of each of us alone. together, what could we do, all there is in my heart is the wish for a world wholly different.

i can't get over the email she received, and that we are unsure of what will happen. all either of us have done is live/survive, it feels like some kind of punishment.

i know it's not the whole world, and that landlords are especially shit. it's just extreme, i dunno, it feels like this is reproduced everywhere, on every level. maybe i am just winded and weak.

i am craving some sort of punishment, i just want to be ended but i want it to be funny i guess. that makes me greedy/selfish, i can't stop wanting it though. i just want to be exploded. tortured and left on the side of the road. right now is just that without the fun parts (possibly puking, blood, being connected to my body).

instead i am just distantly afraid.

an intolerable heat, i guess.

yesterday we saw the christmas lights at this chocolate factory. that was nice. it was very pretty, my gf saw these angel ornaments, all lit up and stuff, and she said they're like the ones in fwwm, to take me away, she meant it in a sweet way, but it made me realized all over again what that scene means to me, and how i felt then, just wanting to escape all of this awful stuff. but it's sad, i want to be here for her. i wish we could go away forever. into a life that is not shoved into various unrealities at all times.

anyway, look at these sprites from despiria.

i'm tired, now, so

byebye!!!!!!

[whentherewerebicycles]

okay that was a great weekend with an excellent and hilariously witty crew of people lol. I am glad I went but also my body is broken from travel and I badly need to be back in my little routines!! 2.5 hours left in this flight then I gotta get the shuttle to my car and drive 40 min home before I can crash in my own bed at last!!! thankfully I have three full days of solitude before bachelorette weekend activities begin which should be enough time to get back on a normal sleep schedule, go for a couple short runs and a few long walks, and cook myself food that includes actual vegetables. I’m still responsible for the pugs which means I’m not fully relaxed (so many dogs and only half of them housetrained 🫠) but it’ll still feel REAL good to be in my own space with nowhere to be.

somewhere between four and nine business days left on the job decision wait. it might be sooner than that as the first round went a lot faster than they originally said, but I’m not going to count on it! I sent a thank you email to the committee earlier today and I feel like I’ve done everything I can to demonstrate that I’m a good fit. if I look deep into my heart I feel like I don’t expect to get the job, mostly because I am my mother’s daughter and that means I assume that if I want something too much the universe will choose to shame/humiliate me for wanting it. fun feelings to unpack someday or never! but I still really enjoyed most of the experience (except the last 24 hours of working on that talk lmao) and I feel like this experience has fully reinforced for me that I just really really REALLY want to get back into a university setting. I don’t find learning & development work interesting enough to find another job in my current field and I can’t stay in my current job—I’m too emotionally checked out. so if I don’t get this job, I’m going to give myself a day or two to be crushed, and then I’m going to turn around and apply for two open positions at the same campus (I really liked the general vibe there apart from the meh feelings about how white the faculty/staff seemed to be). I may also apply for a lower-ranking job in the same office if I feel like they let me down nicely/seem generally positive about me. anyway I know I am doing the thing where I try to preemptively rehearse and rationalize my feelings away so they can’t hurt me when they happen but just let me practice my silly little coping mechanisms okay.

mm ok I think I’m gonna read fanfic because I feel too tired and bleh in my body to do anything more productive than that.

[mariacallous]

Since Twitter launched in 2006, the company has acted as a kind of heartbeat for social media conversation. That’s partly because it’s where media people go to talk about the media, but also because it’s been willing to open up its backend to researchers. Academics have used free access to Twitter’s API, or application programming interface, in order to access data on the kinds of conversations occurring on the platform, which helps them understand what the online world is talking about.

Twitter’s API is used by vast numbers of researchers. Since 2020, there have been more than 17,500 academic papers based on the platform’s data, giving strength to the argument that Twitter owner Elon Musk has long claimed, that the platform is the “de facto town square.”

But new charges, included in documentation seen by WIRED, suggest that most organizations that have relied on API access to conduct research will now be priced out of using Twitter.

It’s the end of a long, convoluted process. On February 2, Musk announced API access would go behind a paywall in a week. (Those producing “good” content would be exempted.) A week later, he delayed the decision to February 13. Unsurprisingly, that deadline also slipped by, as Twitter suffered a catastrophic outage. 

The company is now offering three levels of Enterprise Packages to its developer platform, according to a document sent by a Twitter rep to would-be academic customers in early March and passed on to WIRED. The cheapest, Small Package, gives access to 50 million tweets for $42,000 a month. Higher tiers give researchers or businesses access to larger volumes of tweets—100 million and 200 million tweets respectively—and cost $125,000 and $210,000 a month. WIRED confirmed the figures with other existing free API users, who have received emails saying that the new pricing plans will take effect within months.  

“I don’t know if there’s an academic on the planet who could afford $42,000 a month for Twitter,” says Jeremy Blackburn, assistant professor at Binghamton University in New York and a member of the iDRAMA Lab, which analyzes hate speech on social media—including on Twitter. 

Twitter did not respond to a request for comment.

For subscribers to the cheapest package, the number of rules through which they can filter data from the app’s Real Time PowerTrack API will be capped at 25,000, and the number of queries of the Full Archive Search API will be capped at 50,000. The number of Twitter handles they can analyze through the Account Activity API will also be limited to 5,000, and there will be a max of 20 requests per minute for the Engagement API Totals Endpoint, which allows researchers to see how well tweets are doing in terms of engagement.

While this sounds like a substantial dataset, it only accounts for around��0.3 percent of Twitter’s monthly output, meaning it is far from being a comprehensive snapshot of activity on the platform. Twitter’s free API access gave researchers access to 1 percent of all tweets.

Elissa M. Redmiles, a faculty member at the Max Planck Institute for Software Systems in Germany, says the new prices are eye-watering. “It’s probably outside of any academic budget I’ve ever heard of,” she says, adding that the price would put off any long-term analysis of user sentiment. “One month of Twitter data isn’t really going to work for the purposes people have,” she says.

Kenneth Joseph, assistant professor at the University of Buffalo and one of the authors of a recent paper analyzing a day in the life of Twitter, says the new pricing effectively kills his career. “$42,000 is not something I can pay for a single month in any reasonable way,” says. “It totally destroys any opportunity to engage in research in this space, which I’ve in many respects built a career on.” 

The pricing documents were provided to WIRED by a researcher who asked for anonymity, since they are still accessing Twitter data through an existing API agreement and worry it could be terminated if they were identified. They say the new costs were “not viable for the academic community.”

“No one can afford to pay that,” they say. “Even rich institutions can’t afford to pay half a million a year for a thimbleful of data.”

It’s not clear whom the new pricing model is targeted at. Nir Grinberg, an assistant professor in the ​Department of Software and Information Systems Engineering at Ben-Gurion University in Israel, used to work at a startup that used Twitter’s data.

“It seems like a really steep increase for a tiny amount of data. One percent of Twitter a few months ago was free. Now Twitter is offering 0.3 percent for half a million dollars [a year],” he says. “It’s just crazy. I honestly don’t know who could budget for this.”

Researchers say the damage won’t just be to academic discourse. Twitter is a vital dataset for understanding how the internet works and what conversations are being had in the notional global public square.

Joseph recognizes that there are other platforms he could research, but notes that Twitter’s potent combination of journalists, high-ranking politicians, and business decisionmakers makes it a vital area for research. “Twitter is a particularly special space for understanding elite discourse,” he says. “To rip that away from all of us trying to use the system to understand it is a tough pill to swallow.”

Blackburn, however, says researchers will continue to find a way to scrutinize what’s happening on Twitter. “We’ve been mostly cut off from Facebook for years and we’ve continued to make progress,” he says. “It’s not like science is going to be held hostage by a guy that played himself into burning $44 billion on a website that makes no money, just so he could force all its users to read his shitposts.”

[the-foolish-scholar]

Strength

Okay so I actually designed the card above myself! I was sitting in a lecture and heard my professor share the proverb that’s on the card and I got inspired to make it. One day, I will design my own deck, but I’m in no rush to complete that project. Anyhoo, The Strength card is the ninth card of the Major Arcana. In traditional depictions of the card, we see a woman controlling a powerful lion. The woman is dressed in a white robe, representing her purity of spirit. The robe is accompanied by both a belt and a crown of flowers which remind querents of the beauty and balance of nature. Above the woman’s head rests an infinity symbol, symbolizing her infinite potential and wisdom. The woman controls the lion not by force, but by compassion and care. She looks down upon it with a warm smile, petting it. This imagery teaches us that we may tame our passions and channel the energy from them into achieving our desires. Not with force or coercion, but with emotional strength, trust, and patience.

-

Earlier today (I started writing this yesterday, I’m too lazy to edit it) I had my first class through the University of El Salvador. I will continue to have class on Saturdays up until late October as I was invited to participate in this certificate program being held by faculty from a few different departments at the national university. God willing, I will have a certificate in the political history of El Salvador in about seven months. I’m extremely thankful and I’m still in shock that this is happening.

I never planned on enrolling in a formal course while I was here, nonetheless a certificate program! But, I came across this post on Facebook advertising the program and it piqued my interest:

I tried to fill out the form to apply but it was already closed due to a high volume of applicants. Accepting my losses, I reached out to the email provided in the post and asked if the coordinator of the program would be able to send me some recommended readings since I would not be able to participate in the program. Within less than an hour, I got a response. They told me that they would gladly share some sources with me—and that if I wanted, they could potentially share them with me as a student in the class! They reopened the link so that I could apply!

I was ecstatic. I couldn’t believe how much luck was on my side. I quickly filled out the form and sent an email back thanking them for giving me the opportunity.

The next day I got a message telling me I was accepted. I was over the moon but also a little bit nervous to now have this new responsibility. The coordinator of the program sent me the link I needed to access the course along with my log in credentials. They also filled me in on the structure of our first class so that I would be prepared. I expressed how I worried about my language abilities impacting my ability to perform well in the course, but they assured me that I would get the hang of academic talk as time went on and told me to not worry. It’s like I’m taking a political science class but all in Spanish… A challenge, but one I’m up for!

On the day of class I logged on with a cup o’ joe and a sticky note with a meticulously edited blurb I intended to read to introduce myself to the class with. The faculty began to introduce themselves and discuss the importance of the program. After they all had introduced themselves, the coordinator of the program began their presentation.

I was so thankful to have the slides, as they spoke so fast. This is their second time running this program and boy is it comprehensive. The course’s methodology is made up by live lectures, pre-recorded lectures, auditory and visual media, and readings. As students, we’ll be expected to work in groups and hold debates in class. And, we’ll be expected to complete homework, which I believe to be short essays, along with a final project. If I’m being honest, I have no idea how I’m going to do it all. I just know that, somehow, I will.

There are seven units. The first is a general overview of El Salvador’s political history along with an analysis of Salvadoran society. From there, we’ll learn about the origin of the territory and the lives of the first peoples in the pre-Columbian era. The third unit covers the colonization of the indigenous from their perspective, which I am really excited to learn about as history rarely represents such perspectives—like the quote on the tarot card I designed explains! The course will then go on to cover Central America’s independence and the construction of the Salvadoran state. In the fifth unit, we’ll take a deep dive into the structure of the coffee republic and the peasant organizing that took place in response to the oppression during the time period (for more details on this, refer to my post titled The Magician). We’ll then learn about the military dictatorships and the civil war, closing out the program discussing the post war period, neoliberalism, and contemporary politics.

After we finished learning about the course, it was time for the students to introduce themselves. I had done so many mindfulness exercises to try and stay calm but the nerves kicked in. I was so afraid of fucking up. The coordinator of the program called out names and I kept wondering when it was going to be my turn.

About halfway through, they called on me. I felt like I was going to die. I turned on my camera and microphone and spit out what I had prepared. It was definitely far from my best (albeit more regular) pronunciation, but nevertheless, I did it. I’m pretty sure everyone could tell how nervous I was, but I tried my best to appear like I was relaxed. I’m the only non-native speaker in the class after all!

We were supposed to bring up a historical figure that we were interested with/that we identified with and I brought up Patricia Puertas, a peasant organizer and martyr who knew Rutilio Grande (the first priest to be assassinated for speaking out against injustice). Faculty were impressed with my reference of her, which made me feel proud of myself, as she’s one of the lesser known figures in Salvadoran history. Below I've included a collage that was made, with all of the historical figures that were brought up by my fellow classmates:

I know about her because a theologian who’s work I’ve read mentioned her and because last year when I was here on a delegation with CIS, we went to a meeting with a group of organizers that named their group after her.

I never felt more relieved to turn off my camera and my microphone in my life after I was finished speaking. I hadn’t been in a situation where the pressure was on like that in quite some time. I thought about how all of the international students that I’d met at Miami went through the same thing; and I felt so much empathy for them in that moment. What a stressful way to get an education!

But, I did it once, so I can surely do it again. I’ll get more comfortable and I’ll get better at speaking like an academic in Spanish sooner rather than later.

I think that it’s just frustrating because while I have all of this knowledge and things I want to express I have a limited capacity for saying it in Spanish, which I assume makes me come off as unqualified and less intelligent than I actually am. But people ought to understand that, and if they don’t, well I don’t care what others think of me that much at the end of the day.

Participating in this is also a good way to dip my toes into continuing my education abroad, as I’m considering getting my masters either here or in another Latin American country. If I choose to go down that route, having this experience under my belt will surely help me be more confident and capable down the line.

While I’ve been jumping all over the place in terms of next steps, I’m pretty sure that I want to pursue a masters in sociology (and eventually a doctorate, fingers crossed) keeping a focus on religion and social movements.

After class got out I kind of just lounged around. I watched Succession and I read for pleasure. I was really tired so I kept dozing in and out of sleep. I wanted to go out but I was too worn out.

Today, as it is now Sunday, Palm Sunday to be specific, I woke up early. At 5:00 AM. I went to mass with the Italians and my landlord at 6:00 AM. There was such a huge turn out. I was surprised to see so many people that early. I cannot imagine how big the crowds got at the later masses. The Italians participated in a procession outside, but I chose to stick with the landlord and we attended mass inside of the church.

We bought palms, or ramos, from vendors on the street and then grabbed a spot in a pew near the back of the church. We got pelted with holy water which gave me the boost I needed since I had not had the chance to drink any coffee beforehand. I noticed that all of the religious figures in the church that were not Jesus, except for a portrait of Saint Romero, were covered in purple cloth. I didn’t realize that was a tradition and I’ll be spending the rest of the afternoon looking into the ritual and its purpose. The homily was rather traditional, but the priest did condemn economic injustice. After communion was passed out, we dipped, getting back home a little after 7:00 AM.

I lounged around in bed for a bit. When the Italians came home we briefly discussed the differences in homilies between both of our masses. I was running out the door to head to a café to write this post and conduct some secondary research but I was intrigued by where the conversation was heading. We agreed to discuss more later. And that’s pretty much it when it comes to what I did this weekend?

I had a delicious traditional breakfast complete with scrambled eggs with ham, refried beans, cheese, plantains, and bread. The coffee at this place I’ve been going to never disappoints either. It’s cheaper than any of the chains and they give you a good portion. I’m cashing out here and then I’m gonna sneak into a hotel pool nearby.

Oh, also, when I was at the UCA on Monday I was a guest speaker in Tizziana’s classes. In her beginner class I discussed why I had decided to learn Spanish and then I encouraged them to speak without fear of making mistakes, as it’s better to make a connection and share one’s perspective than to sit in silence. In the upper level class we had a more in depth discussion about language exchange and life in the United States. Tizziana had to leave the advanced class early but I stayed with the students and that’s where the fun really started. Let’s just say that I’ve given them some new vocabulary and gained a fair amount of followers on Instagram. And I also got to teach both classes some mindfulness exercises!!!

Okay, I’m signing off. Thanks for reading! I hope you all had a great weekend.

Z

[bllsbailey]

Letter From RI School of Design President to Occupying Protesters Is Something Else—So Is the Result

On Monday, more than 20 activists took over part of an administrative and academic building at the Rhode Island School of Design in Providence, as part of the campus protest actions over Israel's actions in Gaza. 

They posted videos of their occupation, describing the piled-up chairs blocking the hall as a "thesis." There was also a picture painted on the wall of Leila Khaled, who was a plane hijacker, as a member of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP), "a secular Palestinian Marxist–Leninist and revolutionary socialist organization." You can watch the occupiers' video here on X.

They were demanding that the school declare the "Israeli Occupation of Gaza as genocide," and that the school divest from companies that are "implicated in sustaining Israeli Apartheid."

But on Thursday, the school president, Crystal Williams, had had enough. She sent out an email noting that their occupation of the building was interfering with the ability of the other students to get to their work, that even after multiple requests the occupiers had prevented other students and faculty from doing what they needed to do, and that was "contrary to our institutional values." She said there was finals work and showcase work that other students couldn't access, and grants were being jeopardized. That interfered with the mission of the school and was against the code of conduct. But then came the funny part. 

She said the occupiers had to get out by 2:30 and undergo a "restorative justice process." They had to return the space to its original condition. They also had to meet with the students and faculty whose work they had "negatively impacted, listen to the impact of their actions, and engage in respectful dialog, and reimburse those who have spent personal funds on no longer viable projects as a result of the occupation": 

a. If students vacate by 2:30 p.m. and the above restorative justice conditions are not met, students will be held accountable under the current conduct codes. If students do not vacate the space by 2:30 p.m., we will proceed with expulsion from Rhode Island School of Design.

Wow, what a concept. Rules and threat of expulsion. Actually, holding students to account for what they do, even saying that they had to clean everything up. 

So, what happened? 

They left the building and have agreed to comply with the "restorative justice process," according to the school. 

"Our focus is now on enabling students with work in the building to retrieve it and then to conduct a restorative justice process to restore the space and address the harm that was done," Pres. Willams said.

Now, that's the way to do it, with a little of their own "struggle session" theory used on them in reverse, to make them see how they'd hurt other people. 

Related:

Here's the Dumbest Protester Move of the Week: Activist + Shield + Cop Has Bad Ending

WATCH: Princeton Hunger Striker Complains About How 'Unfair' It Is to Them

[bobbyfiend]

Justice failure

I failed, and I don't know how to fix it, if at all.

I work at an extremely white, cutesy university in the USA. Of course all the faculty express "liberal" opinions, but the Israel/Gaza war has some of them pretty confused about what the "good liberal" side is.

A colleague with an Arabic last name (that's about all I know about him) posted an article to our one-and-only faculty email list ("sell your couch! Advocate for justice! Ask when midterm grades are due! All in one forum! no, you can't have any others!") that implied criticsm of Biden's pro-Israel, effectively pro-violence stance. I replied saying that Americans sometimes have blinders when the nation of Israel is involved.

Well, someone with a potentially Yiddish or Hebrew last name (I also don't know him) posted that I needed to keep my uninformed opinions to myself, that "politically charged" posts like this were unwelcome. I responded that yes it was politically charged, as was a message posted within minutes advertising a vigil for Israeli victims. I suggested that he probably meant to tell that person to take their politically charged post down, too. I went on to say I support victims of violence, especially civilians, especially children, whether Israeli, Palestinian, Kurdish, Ukrainian, etc. and that no violence is justified. I said I support efforts toward peace, though not through violence. I said I was good friends with the pro-Israeli victim vigil, and would attend if I could (all true; I'll be out of town).

A few minutes after I posted this, I noticed his message implied that he was grieving family members killed in the violence. Fuck.

Maybe that should not have changed anything, but it did. I regretted a political argument and moralizing about a conflict I have no connection to, when someone suffering from the conflict was in the room. I felt there was no need to rub salt in those wounds because I do support the victims of violence. Israeli or Palestinian.

So I deleted my post. I also sent him a message expressing my condolences, and telling him I deleted the previous post.

Okay. Now I feel like shit because one view of what happened was this:

Arabic person points out some non-pro-Israel realities

White dude agrees

Apparently pro-Israel person tells him to shut up and uses his personal victimization as a rationale

White due shuts up

and now another person has jumped in, not seeing my personal response to the guy, saying that his "candor" about his grief deserves public acknowledgment. Pretty sure there will be little or no non-pro-Israel content in this or any other public forum at this small university.

So, fuck. Personal victim connection shuts down dialogue, leaving only one voice. Yeah, I suck. No need to remind me.

[cityonlinementor]

Mentor Message 3.23.23

Everybody’s got SDCCD email after 3/27!

1. Student and Employee Primary Emails

Primary emails are switching over for all to SDCCD email on 3/27.  All SDCCD information from the colleges/myportal will be automatically sent to the SDCCD emails.

·         Please remind students to make sure they can access their student emails accounts.

Students received their SDCCD student email info when they registered for classes. This informational email was sent to the address they used to register for classes. Directions for students to access their SDCCD email and setting up multi-factor authentication (MFA)

Don’t want to use a SDCCD email account? People can set up forwarding  from their SDCCD Outlook account.

👩🏽‍🔧Faculty Workaround: If you haven’t done so already, consider copying your students’ primary emails from your myportal rosters BEFORE 3/27 so you can still easily contact & help them with student email. After 3/27, the student.sdccd.edu emails will replace what the students were using as primary emails. This will be the same for Canvas shortly after.

Student Help:  support@student.sdccd.edu

Call     619-388-1140

Why bother? Our District is moving to single sign-on. This means SDCCD email for everyone will become the new login for Canvas, certain resources, and official communication from the college. This is also what gives people access to Office 365 applications such as Word, Excel, PowerPoint, Cloud Storage, etc.

2. Help provide some socio-economic equity in your classroom

Help alleviate some of the financial barriers for students by implementing Online Educational Resources (OER) or Zero Cost Texts (ZTC) in your classes. Not sure where to get started? Check out some of the sessions from OER Week 2023 Sessions:

OER Week Recorded Sessions:

H5P &     ADAPT Overview with Maddie Button

Common misconceptions about switching to OER: Are     you ready to ditch the textbook?

Using OER to improve the student’s experience and     success in my classes

Where To Find OER and Grants. Get Some Help, Too

SDCCE Canvas OER Resources

 Before you leave…

Spring cleaning! Consider clearing your desks & securing personal property in your office if your office computer is out of warranty & scheduled for replacement. Dell workers are in the process of taking away old equipment & putting in new computers. Many thanks to Dean Tyler & Jen Foxley for the heads up that this is currently in process for AH. Be sure to save your data either in the cloud or an external drive.

*How do I know if my office computer is getting replaced? If your computer is still on Windows 7 or XP, it will be going…

3. Grading papers over the break? Concerned about getting AI-written papers?

Faculty have been reporting success with using the following free resources to scan for AI generated work:

Chat GPTZero 

ZeroGPT 

Some Possible Teaching Recommendations:

Put addendum language into syllabi about what AI use (if any)     is acceptable: Sample syllabus language from OSU’s     Creative Commons

Use AI to model how you     might want students to use it as a classroom tool 

Have discussion before     assignments are due & expectations: Samples     of language/resources from UCLA

Use or     require info 2021 and newer: ChatGPT can't scan (yet) for anything from     2021-present

Use multi-tier prompts that elicit critical thinking or     personal judgement. AI can't "think" critically, so if the     prompt is requiring students to write about something that requires     evaluation that is subjective, emotional, or requires specific contextual     information, it can't do it. It also doesn’t always process the     entire prompt if there are multiple parts. For ideas/verbs see a digital     “update” to Bloom’s Taxonomy in Tech and Learning or ASU’s     graphic linking digital tools to each level

Have a good Spring Break! I’ll be checking email periodically through the break, so feel free to reach out if you have questions or need help.

[golden-----hour]

5

3/10/23

I feel very proud of myself! Here are the reasons. I just finished my 7:30AM - 12:00PM shift. It was an easy day. I can wake up and go to work. I feel lucky that waking up does not hurt as much as it used to in High School. I was explaining derivatives to an OA and it caught me in a fury of numbers. I found the equation to describe the change of the numbers of fourth power numbers. Which is to say the numbers between 1,16,81, 256 etc. I came up with the equation: 4x^3-6x^2+4x-1 which generates the sequence: 1, 15, 65, 175, 369, 671. I have not done math in a little while so it impressed me that I was able to generate it. I felt useful and intelligent. My coworkers were confused by me and I explained that I don’t like to be bored. It was a lot of fun. Once the caffeine hits my system, I’m gone. I also forwarded the link for submitting an advertisement to the Student Centers for Stephanie from my Bilingual Research Class for her endangered language project workshop. I knew how to find her email. I coordinated with Jenn for Make-a-Wish for next week’s schedule and coordinated with Demi to ensure I can do both next week. I went to the Main Lounge and played piano and talked to Elizabeth and that faculty member about music at the piano. He asked me to play Clair de Lune and I did not mind. Hablé con Elizabeth sobre su hijo y como aprender tocar el piano y quiere que aprenda “Happy Birthday.” I also made a reservation for Mangia Toscano at 7PM so I can get dinner with my friend Sam! I played Rachmaninov. I came to Brower to eat food. Miquel told me he sent the Catalan poem I wrote for him to his mother, who said it was “precious.” Miquel loves the poem I wrote so much that it made him cry. I got my third and final reference for my internship application for the Court Interpreting Internship I am applying for this summer! I asked my interpretation professor from Spain and he agreed and I even emailed him in Catalan! This week, I made a Linked-In and completely revised my resumé. I just need to write a Cover Letter and wait for Liz’s new email for her Philadelphia job. I’m seeing my friend Matt in 45 min, who I met over the summer because he came in to play the piano and I said, “What is your story?” and I showed him my Golden Hour Poetry (before JVKE ruined the phrase) and we reconnected after Spain and yes, everyday I wake up and wonder when Fulbright results are coming out. I have never wanted something so badly in my whole life. I am listening to Arlo Parks and thinking of Ananya and how I am doing everything I have ever dreamed of and I remember so viscerally when I was at Make-a-Wish having just left and evening was a vibrant amber hanging in the pine trees across the parking lot and black silhouettes spread their wings against the radiant firmament (word occurred to me for some reason) and I felt utterly there, like dumbfoundedly there, wildly there. And I knew Vulnera was different and that it ended again, for me, in that moment. I have made it despite the horror I have witnessed getting older. I led a sectional in University Choir and people ask me if I study music and I say I don’t, I just love it. I do Sinfonia with Jay as well and feel proud. When I get the chance, I go to the gym and have good sex with pretty men and I can hold my glorious sadnesses and set them down if I need to and the coffee is sprinting through me and I feel warmly about graduating and I will do everything I need to do to be okay and to not be in vulnera. I am actively trying to invest into my life and my wellbeing and my friends and my existence. I do not deserve vulnera. I am in my name and my story. People value and love me. I can leave a room. I can try to leave a room. I can leave the room 598 times and then try again. Now Black Dog is playing: the E major seventh to A major seventh is being saved. Miquel said to me: T’estime molt molt molt molt molt. 

[surviving-the-semester]

I called to leave a message for my doctor (with the plan of calling back in the morning to check if they had any same day appts), but the operator freaked out a bit about my stats. So they wanted me to talk to the on call doctor if I wasn't going to choose to go in to the ER.

Luckily the on call was lung/asthma literate. They checked that I wasn't dropping into the 80%s, that I'm doing nebulizers (and showing temp increases in spO2 with them), am on a steroid, and that I didn't feel like my SOB is more significant than with other cold triggered asthma flares. They agreed that I could stay out of the hospital tonight (with the caveat of not dropping into spO2 80%s) and get in contact with my doctor in the morning for a same day appt.

I also sent an email to my main faculty in both programs with a sort of "if I end up in the hospital for the start of the semester here's the game plan I have &/or what are your suggestions?" type message, with the statement I am still hoping the steroid really starts pulling its weight and things improve over tonight.

And I did manage to apply for that Colorado State University position. So woohoo!