Feeding Yourself 101, Tuesday, First Period

[carbsliftthespirit]

Once the students had assembled in the Home Ec room, Raiden greeted them all with a hearty, "Good morning! I'm Raiden, and this is the basic cooking class! If you wanted the advanced cooking class, it's on Monday and you already missed the first one, but I'm sure the moose can sort you out. So!" He clapped his hands together. It was loud. "Let's get started! Before we do anything involving sharp or hot objects, I'd like to know what I'm working with, and I'd like to make sure you all have full bellies. There's a handwavey selection of breakfast sandwiches over there," he said, waving toward a table where there were also carafes of coffee and orange juice, along with assorted other accoutrements to go with the sandwiches. Did you want hash browns? There were probably hash browns. "So please help yourselves, and then I'd like for everyone to introduce themselves and tell me about your current level of cooking skill, and your level of familiarity with the appliances and fixtures at the cooking stations. If you don't know what a stove is or how a sink works, I need to know so I can teach you. Let's get started!"

Basic Training, Tuesday

[knightinshinarmor]

Class met -- as it would every week, most likely -- in the Danger Shop. (Gambit was basically guaranteed to call it the wrong thing every time he talked about it; why was it a "shop" here and not a "room"?) Today it was left neutral when the students arrived, the walls bare and a plain landlord-beige. Just a big empty space ready to be filled with possibility!

Or at least robot drones.

Gambit, suited up in his full working uniform, complete with ridiculous "X" branded accessories, stood leaning against his bo staff, and gave the students a cheeky wave as they entered, counting them up and looking for anyone who might be missing. "Bonjour," he greeted when it seemed everyone who was coming had arrived. "Some of you I know. Some I don't. I'm Gambit. King of Thieves and more-than-occasional professional superhero. I'm here to introduce you to some of the basic training drills I and my fellow X-Men do on a regular basis to keep ourselves in full fighting shape. To do it right, though, I gotta know what each of you can do. So that's what we're doing today."

He pushed himself upright from his lean, gave his staff a spin, then hit the button that caused it to collapse into something pocket-sized and tucked it away, replacing it with a deck of cards that he idly shuffled while he spoke.

"Your job today is to show off. Let us all see what you can do. Maybe you have special powers, like me. Maybe you don't, but you've got skills: great aim, say, or acrobatics. Maybe you just got a lot of cash to spend on goodies and want to use them to save the world. Superheroing, she takes all types."

He flicked the top card of his deck up between his index and middle fingers and charged it, causing it to glow a fabulous fuchsia that matched the breastplate of his armor. "Me, I make things go 'boom'." He flicked the card away. Sure it enough, it burst in a bright flash against the wall, leaving a scorch mark that would vanish once everyone's attention was elsewhere, thanks to the Danger Shop's safeties. He flicked another card up between his fingers and pointed it at one of the students. "How 'bout you?"

[open class is open!]

Ethics, Tuesday, January 6, 2026

[sith_happened]

The Danger Shop was set up to resemble a large, sun-filled room with a number of comfortable looking meditation cushions set up in a rough semi-circle facing the front.On the whole the vibes were very calm and welcoming. Anakin had not picked this simulation.

Anakin, in fact, looked much less relaxed than the room should make him. "Welcome to the Jedi Temple," he said. "Apparently.'

Ahsoka surely didn't know any reason it could have made him off kilter. At all. "Also welcome to this semester's Ethics class," she said. "Given the influence of the Jedi in developing both Master Skywalker's and my own sense of ethics, it seemed a good place to start with for introductions."

"Ohh," Anakin said quietly. "Oh no."

He started to look at the door. "Is he coming?"

"You're going to have to be more specific," Ahsoka replied, because there were honestly so many people Anakin could be referring to, before addressing the class again. "But for now I'd like to tell you all about how Anakin and I met."

There was one "him" that loomed particularly large in Anakin's mind, but he wasn't going to manifest a holographic version of Obi-Wan by naming him. "You were very short then," he said instead.

Ahsoka had been tempted for the visual. "I was fourteen," she said, holding her hand about the height of where the tips of her montrals would've been. "I'd just been assigned as the Padawan learner of the infamous Hero Without Fear, who promptly hid behind his own master."

"In my defense, I was an idiot," Anakin said.

"And not all that much older than I was, when all's said and done," Ahsoka added. "But in the end, I don't think I would have made it with any other master . The point of this is that at some point you will fail, and what's important is what you do and what you afterwards."

Anakin nodded. "I got better," he said. "Mostly."

Mostly. Meanwhile Ahsoka was perfect and had no concerns or worries whatsoever about training her own Padawan.

Of course not! "Today's lesson is to make a good impression," Anakin said, nodding. "Introduce yourself in a way that won't make you cringe to think back on."

The Long Con, Wednesday, Period 1 [1/7]

[talentforlying]

It was a grumpy, rumpled librarian that stomped his way into class after the students had arrived, bonelessly dropping into his chair and kicking his feet up on to his desk as he fished about in his coat for some cigarettes.

God, why the fuck had he been assigned first period? This was some sort of fucking revenge by that sodding moose, wasn't it? John hadn't started drinking yet, but this was fucking inhumane, to be sober at this hour. Bloody hell.

"Right, I'm Constantine, and you're most likely here because you're gullible and thinking this is going to be an easy 'A', a delinquent, or for some strange reason thought this was an academic class with philosophical value," he said, lighting up. "More the fools you, but I can work with it."

"So, let's start with the basics. A con is a game, one where hopefully you're the one writing the rules and the people around you are the pieces you're moving. It's a scam, a grift, a hustle, all those words designed to make it sound as shady as possible, although the number of reasons you could be running a con are infinite, at least when you're justifying it to yourself. It usually just boils down to one, very simple motivation: You want something," he continued bluntly. "So give me your name - or whatever the hell you want to be called for the purposes of this class, I don't care - and tell me one time you ran a scam on someone. Give me an idea of what you already know, kids, then we'll get on to Arts and Crafts."

...did he mean for that to sound slightly ominous? Maybe. It was too fucking early for this shite.