The Art of Baking with Friends, Thursday

[locointhecoco]

Pinkie was scribbling notes on the board when the students came in for class, today. It was a list of rules. New students might be surprised to see a pink pony writing on a chalkboard. Old students might, too, actually, seeing as Pinkie didn't have fingers. She had some fine manual (hoofual?) dexterity despite all that, though.

It was sort of the mystery for the ages, kids.

"Welcome to class," Derek said, keeping an eye on the rules more than the students. In case she tried to slip something in there. "My name is Derek and this is--"

"AND I'M PINKIE PIE!" Pinkie cried a beat too late.

The list of rules on the board so far were:
Glitter is not for eating (except in this class!)
Earthworms are not baking ingredients (unless that's your thing)
Allergies are not imaginary (please let us know if your throat is closing up)
Derek is for tickling (he's going to yell at me now)

"I am not for--" Derek took a deep breath to calm himself. "Ignore half of what she says. Other than the allergies."

Pinkie beamed. "It's the first week, and you know what that means?"

Did it mean a party? Pinkie thought most things meant "party". Her cannon is probably loaded up with glitter as we speak.

"It doesn't mean a party," Derek said quickly. But the glitter canon was already loaded and armed. There was no escaping this one.

"INTRODUCTION PARTY!" Pinkie declared, and fired off a cannon shot full of glitter upon the room. Edible glitter. It's made of sugar, kids. It'll wash off. OR YOU CAN LICK IT OFF YOUR FRIENDS.

Aren't you glad you're in this class? Aren't you?

Derek sighed, just letting the glitter fall. "Name, class, favorite baked thing," he ground out.

"Also," Pinkie said, unrepentant. "We have cookies."

Library, Thursday [All Day]

[talentforlying]

There were muffled thumps and curses coming from the Fandom High Library today, and for once, they weren't coming from inside Special Collections.

Oh no, it was from somewhere even more terrifying - the Librarian's Office.

Eventually Constantine came storming out, two ghost-jars under his arms, the contents rattling angrily. "Look, I don't give a shit if you don't like it in there," he informed the jars, slamming them down on the counter hard enough to shake the front desk. "If you didn't want to end up in there, you shouldn't have been trying to haunt my office you stupid buggers."

"Now you get to sit here and think about your undeath choices, and watch the front door while I finish this bloody paperwork. Students come in, you holler for me." A high-pitched, sad sound came from one of the jars, and he shook his head. "No, that's not me offering you terms of release, that's me telling you what you're going to fucking do, if you want to get terms of release in the first place. Suck it up."

Constantine grabbed a notebook out of his pocket, scrawled out a 'Do Not Touch Or Open Or They'll Eat Your Soul' note and stuck it in front of the jars before stomping back to his office. No, they couldn't actually eat souls - they were poltergeists, not demons - but it's not like John trusted the students not to open shiny things. Teenagers. Worse than Pandora.

The Fandom High Library was open, and the librarian was in his office, going over the new library student staff paperwork.

Meditation and the Art of Kicking Ass [August 28, 2014, 2nd period]

[sith_happened]

Anakin had contacted his class and told them to dress comfortably for class, then given them directions to the Danger Shop. Anakin had programmed it to look like the gym (without hogging the gym in case any other students had a sudden need to hit things) and was waiting for the students to arrive, sitting on the mats in his Jedi tunic and pants. He'd left the robe in his office.

After gesturing for the students to join him on the mat he began. "I'm Anakin Skywalker," he said. "I'm the Dean of Students in addition to teaching the class on meditation and, well, ass-kicking. In my galaxy, the ability to clear your head is linked with hand-to-hand combat. When you are free of the noise in your head, you are able to concentrate more fully on your opponent. Now, I normally don't do introductions, but today I'll make an exception because I need to know both about your experience in meditation and in hand-to-hand combat, and that's not something I can judge immediately by how you sit on the mats here."

He smiled, a brief upturn of his lips. "Before I began teaching here, almost ten years ago now, I was a Jedi Knight in my home galaxy. I've been trained in meditation and hand-to-hand combat since I was ten, and I was considered one of the best warriors of our Order."

And then he'd become a Sith Lord, which was more on the "choking people" and less on the "physical exertion" but he wasn't mentioning that part. "And since coming to Fandom, I've fought any number of bizarre creatures, including dinosaurs, and so I can assure you that hand-to-hand combat, with and without weapons, will be useful here."

He pointed to the student to his left. "You go first. Name and any experience you have in either meditation techniques or hitting things really hard."

Creative Writing--So Simple Even You Can Do It! (Probably)

[doesdoctorstuff.livejournal.com]

So, class had well and truly begun by the time Navaan sauntered into the classroom. Look, it was early! And daylight! Sometimes hungover doctors needed to take extra time with their precautions to make sure that they don't explode! Did you want an exploding teacher? Huh? Did you?

She didn't think so!

"Oh, good, you're here!" Navaan said cheerfully. "I was gonna be mad if they made me get up this early and no one was here." Then you proooobably should have arrived on time, Navaan. "Welcome to Creative Writing--So Simple Even You Can Do It! (Probably). Creative writing is really easy, so long as you know what you're doing and you're not a complete idiot. In this class, which is way longer than my last class, I'm gonna teach you the stuff you need to know, but not being an idiot is up to you. So, yeah...Don't be an idiot."

Helpful, Navaan.

"Today's lesson is all about names. Someone once said that a rose by any other name would still smell good, but that guy was an idiot. Cause even if it did smell good, no one would give a rose a chance if it was called 'Stinky Skunk Turdweed'. They certainly wouldn't be advertised in all the wedding books and stuff, either. Writing is the same. Your name has to match the genre you're writing in. Back home, there's an amazing smut writer named Felicia who writes all sorts of really, really good smut. Even though her books are awesome, she wouldn't have an audience at all if her name was Hortense or Ethelfrida." Navaan stopped and looked at her class. "Sorry if any of you are named Hortense or Ethelfrida, but those are really ugly names. The same goes for Saunterblugget Hampterfuppinshire--he's not going to sell any action-adventure or fast-paced spy thrillers with a name like that."

Look, there had been a movie last night on the Black and White Period Piece Old Lady Boring Movie Channel and Navaan hadn't been able to find the remote. "So, today we're all supposed to get to know one another and stuff. Or something. I don't know, I don't pay attention. Instead, you're gonna tell me what genre of book you're gonna write if you don't prove to be a complete cretin and pick a nom de quill that really sells it. I guess you can tell me other stuff about you, like your class and why you signed up for this class, but I'm guessing it's because you want to learn how to write books and not suck at it. Also the name Felicia is off-limits cause it's mine."

That's right, students. Not only was your teacher an accomplished doctor, she was also an accomplished smut-peddler!

[NAVAAN IS VERY PROUD OF ALL OF YOU FOR YOUR GENRES.]