Creative Arts, Monday, Period 2

[screwyoumarvel]

Steve was standing at the front of the classroom today as the students arrived. He was dressed somewhat more casually than he usually was for teaching, in a blue t-shirt that already had paint smudged on it and an old pair of equally paint-smudged jeans. ( Class under here )

Cultural Understanding, Monday

[badnewsandwit.livejournal.com]

She had to do this again with the Warden? Really? Morrigan was, quite possibly, Not Best Pleased with Flemeth at the moment, but as she was a mostly-decent daughter she hadn't complained.

Too much.

"Greetings. This is your class on Cultural Understanding, and if you are here, 'tis probably because you need it," she said bluntly, surveying the young faces. "If at any point someone starts a fight over cultural understanding - or a lack of it - I will turn you in to a frog."

"She will," Alistair said, sounding less than impressed. He'd whined and whined and whined to Duncan in his letters, but no luck so far. Something about 'bonding with apostates' and 'realising that the Wardens stood for everyone, including those whose company we would not normally enjoy.' "Maker, look the wrong way and she'll probably do that." Beat. "My name is Alistair, I am a Grey Warden of Ferelden. It is my duty to stand against the Blight, which is what we're warding against, before anyone asks." Another beat. "A word to the wise: don't try to match her magic with magic when she gets cross. I can put an end to it if you try, and you won't enjoy it."

"I was not aware that students were supposed to enjoy their lessons at all," Morrigan quipped. "Learning is educational, not entertaining.

"But you. Give us your name, where you are from, and what it is like, and one thing from the opening banquet that was new to you."

"I'll go first," Alistair announced, "Just so you know how it's done. I am Alistair, I'm from Ferelden. It's a temperate country that was freed from its oppressors several decades ago. We have lush forests and great mountains. Our capital is the city of Denerim, which is crowded and a bit smelly, and then there's Ostagar to the south, which is less of a capital, and much more smelly. We don't have cars, and we really don't have as many buttons as you do. We are more tolerant of mages than some countries, and less so than others. One thing from the opening banquet that was new to me was all the skimpy clothes everyone seems to be wearing. Or not wearing." A beat. "Oh, and I noticed some really nice cheeses I'd never seen before." He grinned.

"And I am Morrigan of the Kokari Wilds, near Ostagar," Morrigan supplied. "We have lots of trees, barbarians, and witches that eat children." Yes, she thought she was funny. "I have found that Fandom is much more tolerant of magecraft than Ferelden -" Alistair "-and the first item that was new to me at the banquet was your fizzy drink, with the sugar."

Someone had developed a fondness for soda.

"But that's us," Alistair said, with a look that implied... something about Ferelden's mage-friendliness. There was a reason he hadn't said it was simply tolerant, after all. "Now it's your turn."

Library, Monday

[faithandscience.livejournal.com]

The first day of a new semester was always a good one. New classes were full of such possibility, William could hardly wait until he had his first class. Which wasn't until later in the week. He wasn't the only one eager to begin the term, apparently. There was a pile of physics textbooks waiting on the circulation desk, which he put away... only to find them sitting on the desk once again a few minutes later.

"It doesn't work like that," William tried to explain. "You're to wait until someone checks you out."

Bringing Literature To Life--Through Violence! [Tuesday, Second Period]

[furious-maximus.livejournal.com]

Cindy was leaning on the desk when the class arrived, stirring a cup of coffee. More coffee and pastries were set off to the side for the class to partake if they were so inclined. “Morning class,” she greeted. “And welcome to those of you who are new. I’m Professor Cindy Perrault and this is Bringing Literature to Life--Through Violence.”

Max was standing at a loose sort of attention off to the side just a bit. Jeans and a slightly rumpled white button-down shirt were dressy enough for class, right? He grinned. "I'm Antillar Maximus. For this course you can call me Centurion." His grin broadened. "I suspect you can guess which part of the class is my forte."

Cindy raised an amused eyebrow at him, but didn’t argue. Not everyone needed to know about her weapon specialties, so Max’s statement could stand. “So, the way this class will work is pretty simple. The Centurion and I will be trading off classes; your classes with me will cover some famous battles in literature and then, in your classes with him, you’ll get to experience the way the actual battles and weaponry work.”

Hey, Max knew she could kick his butt, but that wasn’t part of her cover. And if he could help her build that up, he was happy to. “We’ll be doing some pretty physical stuff, so wear something you can move in. And let me know if there’s anything we should know about your physical condition.”

He grinned. “One of the things we’re hoping you can do is put together the two segments of these classes in your head. Understand how the reality of combat and the way it’s used in literature line up with each other. And how they don’t.”

“And we’ll get into all of that next week,” Cindy finished. “This week is for introductions and heaven forbid we skip tradition.”

Max nodded in agreement. “Yes. We’re very traditional in here, after all.”

Cindy snorted. “Damn right we are. So--introductions. First the basics: name, class, and where you’re from. Then the good stuff--tell us about how war is waged back home. Are armed clashed generally small battles, where everyone can see one another’s faces? Massive armies? Fleets of ships or tanks or what-have you? What kind of weapons are used? Or is warfare shunned entirely, and all problems are solved through diplomacy? Whatever you feel like sharing is fine.”

“At the same time, we want you to tell us a bit about how war is treated in stories. Is it a glorious example of individual prowess? Is it a warning against the horrors that people can inflict on one another? Are wars presented as glorious nationalistic narratives, or as a way of highlighting the evils of warmongering? Let’s all get a feel for how we think and talk about war.”

Aesthetics of Badassery [Monday, Period One]

[doubleohblonde]

"Good morning." Bond was leaning on his desk as the students entered the classroom. "I realise it's early and a Monday to boot so there's coffee and pastries and if you're not actually signed up for Aesthetics of Badassery you can take them with you."

He waited a moment for the class to get themselves organised. "Now onto the class itself. We'll be covering several different subjects over the semester, but one that we will no is the classic movie cliché of making quips after committing acts of violence. Any thug can kill, any psychotic can joke about it after, but neither of those things in and of themselves makes you bad, though they probably will make you an arse. Quite frankly the single scariest person I've ever met, the one person who I would never want to seriously cross, is a five-foot grandmother from Yorkshire, who could have me killed for simply telling you that much about her." So Bond would appreciate it terribly if no one ever mentioned that he had to M. "Make no mistake, there will be fighting covered in this class, but it won't be the only thing, and hopefully by the end of semester you will know how to look, think, and dress like real life badasses."

"But that's all for later classes, this week all I want from you is your names, class, and what the concept of badassery means to you."

"And finally, since I need a TA..." Bond ran his finger down the roster. "Congratulations, Bobby."


[ooc: wait for ocd up]

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