Demolition and Dynamite; Friday, Third Period [10/22 ].

[boobs-and-bombs.livejournal.com]

Kūkaku had marched her students down to the Danger Shop at the start of class, which should hopefully mean the kidlets could figure out that this meant they'd be mostly blowing things up today. This was probably highlighted by the fact that the shop was set up in workstations, and each one had all the trappings of making bombs.

"Today, let's have some fun," said Kūkaku, then she shrugged slightly. "Well, we always have fun. It's blowing things up, how can it not be fun? But today we're gonna do a little bit of a game. Get to a workstations; you've got fifteen minutes to try to make up to twenty bombs. If you don't make it to twenty, tough shit, work with what you've got. Once the fifteen minutes are up, you've got ten minutes to get over to your battle stations and place your targets. You've got ten of these babies and your 'playing field' is a ten-by-ten grin. You're gonna lay out your targets, you classmates will lay out theirs and then you're gonna go up against your classmate and try to blow up their shit with your shit. Just choose the coordinate, letters on top, numbers down the side, light your bomb, slip it down the shoot, and wait and see if you got anything. Twenty bombs, twenty tries, or however many bombs you managed to finish. The one with the most hits winds up winning...I don't know. The pride of being good at blowing things up, or something."

"Any questions? Ask 'em now, 'cause the clock starts soon on getting those bombs made. Don't worry. At the start of each part, I'll go over the rules again."

[[ please wait for the slow OCD is up! ]]

[[ Previous Classes ]]

What It Takes To Be A Badass | Friday | Period 2

[flipped-god-off.livejournal.com]

With it being Homecoming weekend, Loki figured he'd tailor his class to the event for both learning and entertainment purposes. Besides, he figured this would be a great fucking way to break him out of the funk he'd been in.

"So, this weekend's Homecoming," he said once everyone had settled down. "And that means carnivals, food, lots of fucking people and, of course, the dance. Now, dancing is one of those lost arts. It's something that can make you look like a fucking BAMF if you do it right and like a fucking fool if you do it wrong. Now, you might be saying that dancing's fucking stupid and it's for girls or pansies or whatever. Well, maybe that's true but today's class is about dancing. You..."

He trailed off and gestured at the class, smirking. "...are gonna fucking dance. Dancing can impress just about anyone if you're good at it. You can be labeled as fucking graceful, flexible or just all around awesome. It's traditionally thought of as something only girls can do but that's not fucking right. It's fucking hard. It's a lot harder than what most people do and knowing how to dance can get you out of some potentially sticky situations. Now, just be glad I'm not making you all dance by yourselves in front of the entire fucking class. Instead, I want you to find a partner and dance. Slow dance, fast dance, whatever. You just have to fucking dance and your partner gets to judge how you look. Yep. You might think your a badass but your partner might think you look like a fucking fish out of water. While your self esteem is important, you've gotta know how to look to others."

And he wanted to laugh.

"So, partner up and dance. Consider it practice for tomorrow and exercise for today. Get to it."

The Science of Deduction, Friday - 10/22

[3patchproblem.livejournal.com]

Class today was held in the danger shop rather than the proper classroom. Which tended to mean they would be working on an actual crime. Or that Sherlock had found something interesting to do with the programing there.

He made his own fun.

When they arrived, all that lay in the room was a chalkboard and a corpse. Written on that chalkboard was: SOLVE IT. With no 'Aaaaagh!' ending it to show the corpse died while writing that out. And, as we all know, that was what happened when someone was murdered while writing.

True story.

This was apparently Sherlock's idea of a midterm exam.

Dealing With Loss [after classes]

[momslilassassin]

"Hey, everyone," Ben said, smiling around the room. "We'll keep this short because the Homecoming Fair has really astral free food and my grandfather in a dunk tank, and so isn't to be missed."

( Yay, LJ cut! )

Battles That Changed (American) History, Period 2, 10-22

[screwyoumarvel]

An e-mail had been sent out, but in case someone didn't get it or didn't know how to use e-mail, there was a sign on the door today notifying everyone that:

Class is cancelled!
Enjoy Homecoming!

((Yeah, I thought I put this up hours ago. Things have been kind of...hectic on multiple fronts here today. Sorry, guys!))

Apathy Club, Some Classroom, Who Knows, Why Even Put A Subject Line Here, Anyway, Friday

[onapalebicycle.livejournal.com]

George got to the room early and set her head down on the desk and prayed for ... okay, she didn't pray, she was sort of a semi-atheist-agnostic-something, and you couldn't pray for death when you were already dead.

At the alloted time, she raised her head and saw -- at least one other person and possibly more but I don't want to mod.

"Okay, was I unclear last week?" she asked. "About not showing up? That was today's assignment. To not show up. Not doing the assignment, that's great, but in this case, no."

She waved a hand. "I don't know. Leave. Go back to the stupid fucking carnival. I can't believe there's a carnival. Or stay because you hate it, too. I don't care. I fucking hate everything. Whatever."

Ah, the joys of Apathy Club!

(obscenely late, today bitch-slapped me, zomg and I apologize for that)