fandomhigh | Sex Ed, Wednesday, Period 2

“Welcome back, everybody,” Didi said jauntily from the front of the classroom. “It’s nice to see we didn’t scare you away quite yet.”

“This week, we’re going to start with one of the most important things to talk about when we’re talking about sex -- consent, and how to both say yes or no and understand what your partner is saying or not saying. Obviously it’s a huge topic with a lot of cultural and individual nuances. So of course we’re going to demonstrate it via skits about tea.”

Yes, they’d stolen the lesson plan from Tumblr. It was as good a source as any.

“The idea is, if someone says they don't want tea -- or anything else -- you don't make them drink it. Even if you know for a fact they drank tea with ten different people last week. Even if they changed their minds after you went to a lot of bother to make the tea. No is no.

"So to start with, your co-teacher and I are going to walk through a situation where somebody changes their mind about wanting tea. Now, imagine Constantine and I are on a date, and we had a good time, and we spent the whole last hour flirting and talking about how much we both like … tea.”

"And for those of you that are confused, yes, I'm British, no, I don't generally like tea in that way, but we're pretending for the sake of the exercise," Constantine added helpfully. "And for those of you that are confused as fuck... we're using 'tea' so no one dies of embarrassment when it's your turn. Is this overly-simplistic? Yes, but consider it baby-steps so you can actually talk about it instead of just assuming shite."

Oh yes, kids, you were going to get to do role-play today, too!

“And also because there’s a really cute -- if, yeah, simplistic -- video that uses tea, which we’re going to make you watch in a little while,” Didi added, and then took a few steps to the side to mark that she was getting into character.

“So,” she said.in a voice that did her best attempt at being husky. “Thanks for the date. Do you want to come up to my apartment now? You know. For tea.”

She ... almost got through that without giggling. Go her?

"Fuck, I'm supposed to be at work tomorrow early and it's been a long day--" John, stop snickering. "--but a quick nip of tea does sound nice. Sure. But I can't stay too late."

“I won’t keep you,” Didi promised, and led him toward her imaginary apartment. “Just give me a second and I’ll get the tea all ready.”

John flopped down in a chair, tapped his foot a few times as he waited for the tea and... immediately started pretend-snoring. Because he was fucking classy.

And let's be real, there'd totally been nights he'd fallen asleep on a date waiting for them to get ready.

Didi re-entered, carrying a teacup she’d retrieved from the desk. She tapped John on the shoulder. “John, I brought your tea,” she said. “Are you ready?”

John startled awake looking around and blinking. "Fuck, I dozed off, did I?" he said, looking at his watch. "Sorry, sunshine, but if I'm this tired...I can't stay. I got to get going."

"Maybe next time, yeah?"

Didi’s lower lip quivered. “But ...you said you wanted tea,” she reminded him. “We talked about it. I made it just for you.”

"Yeah, I know, and I feel a right shit, but I can't stay," he said, standing up as if to go. "Looks real nice, though... for, ah, green tea?"

Serving green tea to a Brit. CRUEL, Dee. Cruel.

“Nothing’s wrong with green tea,” Didi scolded. “I don’t know what to do now. I guess I can’t hold you down and pour the tea down your throat, huh?”

"I'd rather you didn't, because that's creepy," John said, taking a step back. "I dunno, sunshine, drink it yourself or stick it in the fridge. Mix it with some lemonade. Go wild. Just... not my cup of tea tonight."

“Well, then I guess I need to let you go home,” Didi sighed.(She was so generous.) “Thanks for the date. We can drink tea another time.”

John turned and looked at the students. "If you get the idea with fucking tea, you can figure it out with sex. Dee and I drew names out of hats and put you all in groups. Navigate your tea party without anyone throwing teacups. Unless that's what does it for all of you, in which case I don't judge-- no, I'll judge but keep it to myself."

Thanks, Constantine.

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Tip didn't have anything stamped on her ass. Which, if she ever learned the significance of that mark, would probably piss her off.

"It's pretty weird," she agreed. "I mean, my big sib warned me about turning into a boy or maybe turning into an animal, but she didn't mention turning into a strange alien horse thing with wings."

"The island needs to stop horsing around," said Dante, because seriously, it was like a disease. "We look like, uh-- has anyone told you about the pony teacher yet? We look like her."

"Oh." Velma had mentioned Pinkie, yeah, but this wasn't anything like how Tip had pictured. ". . . Does she have stripes and a horn, too?"

"... No, she's just really pink," said Dante, who'd never really taken a class from Pinkie Pie.

Just that shade of pink was hard to miss at school functions.

Considering how incredibly purple Tip was, she could buy that.

"Does the horn mean you can do magic? Since -- you know, unicorn?"

She wasn't assuming Dante could do magic at any other time. After all, it wasn't like she could fly on the regular, and here she was with wings, so.

"... I don't know," Dante said. He'd been too busy being pissed to think about it.

(He wouldn't call what he could do magic, exactly. Even if it was sometimes indistinguishable from it. It was just freaky shit.)

"You think that's a thing?"

Tip shrugged, sending her feathers fluttering. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Waking up as a purple pony had vastly broadened her idea of what was possible.

"Aren't unicorns supposed to be about virgins and shit, not magic?" Dante ventured.

Look, that was why he'd never looked into unicorns.

"I think they're about virgins and -- stuff --" She still hadn't developed the habit of casually cursing. "-- and magic."

"Then this really doesn't make sense," Dante said, pointing at the horn with his-- hoof.

He shook his head. "How would that even work? Just think 'rabbit, out of hat'?"

"Hey, I'm still working out how to get these wings to actually fold down," Tip said. "And that's a muscle thing. Just, I don't know, point it at something and try to zap it."

"Sure, that's gonna work."

Dante rolled his eyes, but he turned and pointed his horn at... a chair. He pulled a face as he strained to do something like zap it, or-- "Ugh, this is not doing shit."

He had maybe not realized his hooves were now an inch above the floor.

Nephilim powers did as Nephilim powers did, apparently, even when you were a pony. He'd never been terribly good at respecting the laws of physics even before any of this happened, after all.

"You're floating," Tip said.

Which, really, seemed a touch redundant. He had wings. He didn't need magic to fly, did he?

"What--? Woah!"

Not so much floating anymore. And catlike reflexes looked a lot clumsier when you had to land on hooves instead of feet.

"Okay, that was stupid."

Because seriously, he had wings.

"Maybe if you try to float, you'll zap the chair," Tip said.

This was actually kind of funny.

"Nah, it's your turn," Dante retorted. "Flap those wings."

Tip shrank back slightly. "I'm not going to fly in a classroom."

Mostly because, like she said, she still hadn't even quite worked out how to fold them yet. What if she accidentally hit someone?

Dante rolled his eyes. "Then I'm not gonna try and zap anything in the classrom either."

Tip shrugged again, this time managing to knock over a chair when her wings stretched with the movement. She winced, and a little hashmark appeared on the tip of her longest primary feather, which had gone crooked.

"Huh. Apparently wings get hashtags instead of bruises."

"... That is so fucking weird," Dante said, stepping closer and extending a hoof towards that wing.

"I didn't know feathers had nerve endings," Tip said, wincing faintly. She curled the feathers on the opposite wing in like a fist. ". . . Or that they could do that."

"So they're not like real feathers like, at all?" Dante asked.

He spread out his own, more dragonlike wings. So weird.

"I guess not," Tip said. She curled the feathers in and out a few times, then tried picking up a pencil with them.

Right. Fine motor skills would still take work.

"Are yours this flexible? They're more -- bat-ish."

"... I think I can point with 'em?" Dante said, folding them a little bit until the whole thing was... thinner. Pointier. "I think that's it?"

"Huh. Maybe that's why you got a horn. Because you didn't get the prehensile style wings."

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