Library, Thursday (12/11)

[wildandbrave]

Cosette would not at all complain if this week's shift turned out to be much less eventful than last week's. Not at all.

She wasn't really complaining about the Snuggie, either; it was nice and warm, and even if she looked ridiculous she could stay wrapped up in a blanket and have her hands free to read, or to indulge in her new pastime of browsing randomly all over Wikipedia on her phone.

The Art of Baking with Friends, Thursday

[justlurkinghere]

It was a very, very sheepish pink pony who stood at the front of the class today, almost disappearing behind the stacks of flour sacks and varied types of sugar.

"Sooooooooooooooooooooooooo," she said. "Last week was kinda . . . kooky."

"Putting it mildly," Derek muttered, avoiding any and all eye contact. For reasons.

"I dunno what that ghost guy's issue was," Pinkie said. "But he had more than a coupla screws loose, if you know what I mean!"

They did. If nothing else because of knowing Pinkie.

"Aaaaaaanyway." Pinkie looked up at the ceiling, doing a bit of the "no eye contact" thing herself. "Today's our very last baking class of the semester." She gave a melodramatic sigh.

"Which means it's time for finals," Derek said, trying to get them through this as quickly as possible. But, let's be honest, it was going to be embarrassing for the teachers no matter what. "Make something."

And wow, Derek was helpful.

"Absatutely anything you want!" Pinkie said, maybe slightly desperately. "Whatever sweet treat or baked fluffy bready goodness you like best! WE HAVE RECIPES!" She thrust her front hooves in the air, clutching a wrinkled bunch of pages, every inch of her screaming 'PLEASE DON'T HATE MEEEEEEE'. "And have fun! Please? Please have fun."

She will cry if you don't. Seriously.

Derek was just going to… stoically hug the pony now, class. See what you made him do? Do you see? His life was just full of sacrifice and hardship.

The Art of Meditation and Kicking Ass [Thursday, December 11, 2014, 2nd period]

[sith_happened]

Anakin was sitting on the floor of the Danger Room looking grumpy above his Snuggie.

There was a small pile of them in the corner, but it didn't seem to matter how many time he took the Sith-benighted things off. There was always another.

Also like the Sith.

"Right," he said as the class came in. "Final. It's practical because everything else in this class has been practical. First you must find your inner stillness and stay motionles for fifteen minutes, then you can go beat up a practice dummy."

The dummy? Also wearing a Snuggie.

"Have a safe holiday season. Next semester I will be teaching ethics, so I hope to see some of you there."

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

[doesdoctorstuff.livejournal.com]

So, not only had Navaan remembered that there was class today, she'd gone out of her way to schedule a trip for it. It was her way of letting the class know she was fond of them, but in a way that didn't involve, y'know, flang.

Their portal dropped them off outside of R. R. Donnelley and Sons--or, as people might be slightly more familiar with it, The Lakeside Press. There, they were met by a dubious-looking tour guide. The Lakeside Press didn't often give tours of its printing facility and they had never given one to a small class of students being led by a woman in a plague doctor mask and cloak.

Sorry for your sensibilities, Tour Guide. But Navaan was still explosively allergic to the sunlight.

"Today, for your final, we're going to show you how a large run of books are printed and produced for shipment to bookstores," Navaan said cheerfully. "And when that's over, I have a small surprise for you!"

Be honest, how many of you were a little afraid right now?